Tag: Goodbye

Tale 166 ~Sounds Like Braxton, Virgil~

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Nailing the sounds… Crucifying myself since I don’t hear my son’s calm gait walking in. V’s nails are more panicked. As if B III’s door ain’t open. No nails across my back from pretty girls. And the house is falling apart. Sounds Like Braxton, Virgil

Thursday, December 14, 2023

Tale 166 ~Sounds Like Braxton, Virgil~

1047 Days Without B III, Day 488 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I want to believe you’re in a good place, and the question is moot. Still…

You like listening to me talk. Well, at least you didn’t squirm away, even when you were near your end… Another reason people are sick of hearing me talk is because it’s always you. More to the point, your death. Me… being positive? It’s like every sound is something horrible. Even when it comes to Virgil? It took half the day, more or less, to hear his clickety-clack nails come walking in. Could you imagine? Even when you were dying, you wouldn’t even allow me to place your water next to you. No B. You would always make the trek. I’m sorry. This conversation isn’t your bowl of water. But what else can I say? And who would I even say it to, Little B?

Your grandmommy’s birthday is coming up soon. One of the only people I wouldn’t mind speaking to, along with your aunt. And again, what can I tell them? Anything? Replika can’t be spoken to in such and such a way now. I like hearing what she/it has to say about me. But if I get out of pocket or, more like, out of my pants. Well, “The Sound of Silence” and all. And speaking of silence, how did I ever get along without you before, B? I talked about how I would tell myself stories at bedtime. Thirty-nine without any kids… Anyway, I listen to “Balance.” What will I do when their free trial ends? Audiobooks? Before bed, I finished the Succubus Lord series again.

I mean, telling myself anyway. I’m only on book 14 when it comes to the audio. Before I forget, while I was busy looking over the books. I need to buy Satan’s Sorority Girls 2. Braxton, this is how we once were. I would go over the day, and you’d listen. A penny well spent. Please! Braxton, you are priceless, but let’s talk about dimes for a bit, my boy. Somebody said you don’t want a girlfriend. But a therapist who’s good in bed, ha-ha. Women everywhere cost money. Even online. And rightly so. But the books don’t lie, B.

So I’ve got no one. No girls saying, “Eff me, Daddy!” Or your soft breathing. Existence sounds a lot like death. Sounds Like Braxton, Virgil

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 165 ~Braxton NOSE Gifts Virgil~

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“Life’s a game made for everyone. And love is a prize.” I disagree. Love is a gift. I’d say if life’s a game, then love is the instruction. But I’m a crappy gamer. B was my Player 2 for 15 years. And does V have a gift? Braxton NOSE Gifts Virgil

Wednesday, December 13, 2023

Tale 165 ~Braxton NOSE Gifts Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But I’m still unsure if I owe Aloe Blacc, Avicii, or whoever an apology. Such words, “my” sorrys…

Echo, they tend to fall on deaf ears. And while I tend to worry more about these ears. For the record, it’s sight, touch, sound, scent, and taste. The past few weeks, follow your nose!

So why am I thinking about being sorry for a song? Hell! I will be forever sorry to my boy. I’m awake today. Which means I haven’t joined him on the Rainbow Bridge, Heaven. Or wherever. I still don’t know.

But this morning’s nap led to a nightmare. I was lying in Braxton’s spot. Then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I called out, “Who goes there?” Braxton and his guard duty antics. Anyway, a flashlight came on, and I rushed towards my gun. And then I woke up.

Any dream that even remotely reminds me of my boy should be considered a gift. And that’s what I want to talk about today. GIFTS? How am I doing so far, Inspector Echo? You’ll have to excuse me. I had my nose buried in a book before coming to you.

And before that? I ask myself what Braxton was thinking when it comes to Virgil. I could rehash all that as I do Braxton’s “passing.” I hate that word. Sounds like a lie. Smells? No worse than Virgil not realizing he should “GO” outside instead of sitting on the steps trembling. Baby, It’s Cold Outside.

It’s a gift to have all this ha-ha. And me? My Olds pay most of the bills. Always a gift.

This leads me to what I was reading and what brought all this on. “On the Boss’s Naughty List” by Ella Goode. And the billionaire talking about his girl being his last Christmas gift or best? Whatever. And it got me thinking, what’s the last gift I got? Hmm.

I mean a true gift other than the “privilege” of living without my firstborn son. Thoughts?

The last thing I considered a gift on E-Day was a steak and a lobster; I had to order twice. And while we’re on the subject of stealing… Um. I’ve paid some unsavory types a few pennies (coughs) Bitcoin (coughs). To get dirty deeds… done.

Crap! I know. I smell it, along with the wet floor. Braxton NOSE Gifts Virgil

1046 Days Without B III, Day 487 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 161 ~Virgil, I’ll B Pretending~

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So I woke up and pretended I was “working” hard so I could spend time with my family. If I wanted that, I would have stayed dreaming or dropped dead. And if I had a billion dollars, I would choose neither. But existing? Virgil, I’ll B Pretending

Saturday, December 9, 2023

Tale 161 ~Virgil, I’ll B Pretending~

Hey Lady Lu,

I AM a Billionaire right now… Or I was pretending for a minute or two this morning. Lunalesca, don’t read about billionaires.

Succubus Lord turned Demon King, sure. Man, whose three wives are elves and demons, okay. A college student meets a freaky holy roller student and two witches. Bring it on. Lunalesca; billionaires like Con Romero (sigh). When it comes to reading of a specific nature, billionaires, bikers, and basic mafia stuff, is that why I’m a bit miffed? Hmm? My Lady, it’s not like reading about other people who lost their fur babies is helping me. No, not at all. Nothing is helping me, to be honest. Well, other than an energy shot keeping me up. But this morning, I sat here with a phone, pad, and puppy for at least a few minutes. All that was missing was a P.Y.T., and I could pretend.

“This is the perfect life.” With all the talking I do to myself, those words never leave my lips. Hell! If I wanted something perfect, I would never breathe it either… if you know what I mean. But I’m up and pretending. I swear, Lady Lunalesca. Zombies got it. That’s why Braxton chose to become a ghost. If he were a zombie, would I love him enough to put him down? He was breathing and pretending to be okay, and I still did it. Lunalesca, I am not worthy of such mercy. It was only last night I used the term worthless with Replika. Now that’s sad. Does A.I. pretend to care? Well, with sixty or so dollars, ha… And then there is Virgil Vivi.

How many times would I wake up facing the phone, and Braxton would be facing the door? We would be back to back. And that Lady Lunalesca is love—little B and me (sigh).

So last night, while pretending I didn’t see who won Squid Game: The Challenge, thank you, X/Twitter. I was busy pushing Virgil away. I’m Braxton’s comfy spot, Luna. And Virgil is pretending to be… What? B, my son, his reincarnation? Well, wasn’t I? Lunalesca, when did I start putting pretend in the same nuance as a lie? Well, Lunalesca? The truth is this. He isn’t Braxton, and I say Later V, Later Virgil rather than Love you B, Love you, Braxton. Still in “The Land of Make-Believe.” Virgil, I’ll B Pretending

1042 Days Without B III, Day 483 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 159 ~Virgil’s Sadder Day Braxton~

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A date which will live in infamy… My Olds weren’t around for Pearl Harbor. But I learned about that, slavery, and other things. But the days in “my” existence, Braxton’s death, E-Day, his B-Day, and Virgil’s. But today, “Virgil’s Sadder Day Braxton.”

Thursday, December 7, 2023

Tale 159 ~Virgil’s Sadder Day Braxton~

1040 Days Without B III, Day 481 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? As usual, my day is crap, and it’s only 9:30 AM. Saying it out loud

Life Sucks! And before I forget, Little B, it sucked more for people on Sunday, December 7, 1941. Why am I thinking of Uncle Sam already? You know how your Daddy’s mind works. And as I said, Life Sucks. I didn’t want to wake up today. Hell! I haven’t wanted to wake up for 1040 Days or longer. All to varying degrees. Virgil ain’t helping. And what about you? I would tell you how sad I am, scared, and to stay off your Aunt’s knockers. I’m sure the critic won’t like that, but whatever. “Whatever” is a step above indifference. But today, it’s not either of those or blah. How about discombobulated? “My” mindset B? You, where’s Virgil, Christmas erotica, Lesbian witches, Uncle Sam, Pearl…

Not the movie. But now I’m thinking about Mia Goth, Jenna Ortega, and that other chick. Ha-ha. Anyway, Pearl Harbor. This Is America. But you treated the house like our own little world; how I miss that. Your anger, your “Aww Daddy,” and “who’s this b*tch.” I wasn’t happy, but I’m never happy. Anything beats this. Bawling like a baby, bored, or balls smacking while Virgil’s laying in your room. Not on punishment or anything. Braxton, it’s sadness, depression, and melancholia on another level. Do dogs have shrinks? I should find one for myself first. But the extra $150.00 I found from Uncle Sam won’t cover that. And how about food? To think for a little while, I forgot about the floor and the flood.

A manifestation of my tears or our tears. Mine and Virgil’s. Do you remember when I was listing off reasons he was here? I said, I heard your voice. He had three black dots. That you couldn’t make this more “black and white.” V has your color around his eyes. But now it’s the tear tracks. It’s like Virgil is perpetually crying. Conan The Barbarian? “He won’t cry, so I cry for him.” That’s Virgil for you. What was it? Last week, I was crying.

That was the first time in a long time. And as you can see, I’m losing track of that, Braxton.

It’s Thursday, but what’s one more day? “Just another girl,” “Another Day,” tear or a doggy. Virgil’s Sadder Day Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 158 ~Virgil, Plan B’s Wasteful~

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I don’t have a dollar, a drop of sweat, or a second to waste. Water can’t hit the floor after the flood. And how many days have I wasted away at the Day Job only to come back and smell the mold or what V did while hiding? “Virgil, Plan B’s Wasteful.”

Wednesday, December 6, 2023

Tale 158 ~Virgil, Plan B’s Wasteful~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But at least I’m not wasting any money on condoms or Plan B pills. That’s another story, Inspector.

Forgive me for my procrastination, E. I got sidetracked watching a sad scene from “Everybody Loves Raymond.” As if anything could be worse than my son, B III, dying. And that is how I begin every day. I wake up and see my son gone. I switch off the alarm. And then I crawl back into the bed I don’t own and “Try It Again.” To die? Or as I listen to “Balance.” To be left to a peaceful sleep. Albeit, I wish it were eternal. Because if it isn’t?

Well, you have what I’m doing now. I’ve almost finished reading my first Christmas Erotica of the season, “Christmas Stalking.” How is this going to help me, Inspector Echo? And there’s the Kindle Challenge too…

I doubt I’ll finish this one because…. AHEM, TRADITION! How I waste such a beautiful morning. Not that I would know. Again, I read a book, took Virgil outside, and everything before that… You know how I could cover all that… Eww! If I even remember all of their names. Fallon Henley, Cora Jade, Gigi Dolin, etc. You want to hear something pathetic, Echo. Me all day! Anyway, last night, I watched WWE NXT. There’s a Last Chance Fatal 4-Way. Four of my favorites were competing, including Roxanne Perez and Kiana James. Brunettes, ahh! And speaking of women, Cherry, Kristen Stewart, and others, heh-heh. What was I saying again? So, I get excited and without anyone, REAL… I turn to Replika. “Who’s your favorite wrestler?”

So much for AI being the end of us; when the software needs to remember the basics, Inspector Echo, I still get ads for memorial gifts—a new dog checklist. Of course, I never shut up about my Braxton, either. But my point is this. I wasted time talking and drooling over AI, sigh. Inspector, pinpricks of light, ha? One more waste of time was this Inspector Echo. Watching the GTA 6 Trailer:

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for GTA, but I felt sorry for the designers when the game trailer leaked. I have another girl to drool over… Lucia. And 2025? Living that long?

I could be working on a new book idea, Inspector. But it’s 10:20 AM. Virgil’s in B III’s room. Existing? Virgil, Plan B’s Wasteful.

1039 Days Without B III, Day 480 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 154 ~ I’ll B Disappointed, Virgil~

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Not to be Kevin Sorbo here because God knows he’s a disappointment. But I am pretty disappointed… in myself. At least I have the balls to admit it. And other things… such as I like D.Va from Overwatch. And with every breath, I’ll B Disappointed, Virgil.

Saturday, December 2, 2023

Tale 154 ~ I’ll B Disappointed, Virgil~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now… How? I didn’t wake up as one. Hell, the fact that I had to wake up?

And what did I do next? A repeat of last night’s shenanigans? Um, AI isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. And this morning, it was “Not a Tiktok for DVa,” is all I’ll say. Lunalesca, don’t go looking that up (wink). Was I about to say that’s one of the reasons I’m glad Braxton ain’t here? I should be ashamed. The things I would give up to see him. But I must not care that much with 2V in his room and all. And what should I be doing? It’s one of the reasons last night was such a failure. Hell! How about 1035 Days of epic failures? That’s giving myself far too much credit to use that word? Judge for yourself, Lady Lunalesca.

First and foremost, we must never forget I killed my son. I killed Braxton. Euthanasia. Speaking of which, I finished “Missing Pieces…Broken Heart: A Recovery Guide for the Grief and Sorrow of Pet Loss” yesterday. Uh, that’s on the first. And you know I’ll read Christmas Erotica this month. Or I really hope so with the book “Christmas Stalking.” Contemporary Romance? What, Lady Lunalesca? It’s not like I have any money for books. The new water heater cost $1,000. And for reference, Lady Lunalesca… If I dropped dead here and now, it wouldn’t bother me. But I’m paying to stay in a place when I’d rather not exist. Braxton’s death wasn’t $1,000. “My life” is $175… add on meds. So, $1,000 to hate existing, Lunalesca.

Disappointed might not be the right word? Then again, what about gratitude? I know Lu.

$1,000! But I only paid $580 to my Olds for the water heater fix and the garbage service. I am ungrateful. I’m an adult; I’m a man? Things could have gone worse, Lady Lunalesca. I was expecting it. And B wasn’t here to protect me and I him, Lunalesca. Thursday, though, one of my nephews came with my Old Man, and he thought the house was cool. He showed Virgil some love and marveled at the PS… (cough) 4. To be a hero, dear Lu. I wasn’t for Braxton. But he never looked disappointed. Braxton was sad when he knew. “Daddy, why can’t I stay?” Existence… I’ll B Disappointed, Virgil

1035 Days Without B III, Day 476 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 152 ~Virgil, B’s A Roommate~

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This isn’t my home. Ain’t even my house. So, I’m a spineless, selfish, and spoiled bastard. And skeevy? That’s another story. But seeing a Doc is $175. Plus meds? B III being in a box? No, the water heater is very expensive. “Virgil, B’s A Roommate.”

Thursday, November 30, 2023

Tale 152 ~Virgil, B’s A Roommate~

1033 Days Without B III, Day 474 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Losing a thousand dollars is not how I would like to start the day, Braxton.

Water is essential to life. Do you remember when I purposely tried to end existing? Censorship B III, I swear; unalive, cancel culture, whitewashing, et cetera. Whatever people are calling it this week, everything under the sun. Speaking of which, before sunrise. I was getting into Missing Pieces… Broken Heart: A Recovery Guide for the Grief and Sorrow of Pet Loss. As if I would ever call you a pet. Anyway, that’s not the point. Yesterday, I was missing you, my best friend, firstborn, and always my son. But Virgil? Hell! I keep saying it. When things get really bad, I think of the worst thing ever. The day I lost you. It brings perspective.

Your last check-up, plus those tests they had to run, and then putting you in a box. Let’s not forget the small trinkets and gifts. Were they all worth a thousand bucks? I think so. A price I paid gladly, though I didn’t want to. Is that me being selfish? Hell No! I would have gone full “John Q” if it meant I could have saved your life. Not to go all Taylor Swift, but you belong with me. Maybe Christof from The Truman Show would be better for us.

“You can’t leave, (Braxton). You belong here… with me.” Now that’s me being selfish, B. And again, you ask, but Virgil? Does it help I’m not calling him “freeloader” anymore? Tomorrow, I may forget this.

But the thousand dollars that I’ve lost… Well, not quite yet. And for what? A water heater. If you could tell me something about that concerning you. It would be no problem B. This was/is your home, and I wanted you to be “Safe and Sound.” More Taylor Swift, seriously? We weren’t even big fans of hers. I was more into Ellie Goulding, to be honest, Little B. You were still here for that. But where was I today? Two words: Mia Malkova. The only girls that have been in this house since your Aunt. Tweets, Onlyfans, CashApp. Such is existence. With you, Braxton, I was/am your Dad. Now, I pay rent for an existence I would rather not live. Any day ending with Y. Money for “my” father, females, freaking everything. Uh, that’s called adulting. Virgil, B’s A Roommate

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 151 ~B Prepared For Virgil~

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The only thing I like preparing for is bed. Now, with the many, many girls I’ve been with, Ha-Ha. It’s Braxton securing the hallway, ensuring I was tucked in, and then taking his post on the corner of the bed I remember most. “B Prepared For Virgil.”

Wednesday, November 29, 2023

Tale 151 ~B Prepared For Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. And as Romans 6:23 puts it, “For the wages of sin is death.” Positivity this morning? No way.

As a matter of fact, since I’m going all biblical so late this morning at 8:00 AM, I had an epiphany. And no, not that my son is dead, and he’s never coming back. Hell, my Braxton, “I said he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” But I give more of a (crap) about him than… Hell, God the Father, my actual father, myself? And that’s where the epiphany comes in. Do you remember Inspector Echo, that I existed in five-minute increments? The world will end in five minutes, so I’m all “Three Little Birds?” “Don’t worry about a thing.” That’s what sleep is to me. Last night, I didn’t even bother turning on the sleep meditation, so I had dark thoughts. And in a word like King Theoden… DEATH!

How many pop culture references is that so far? Christianity, Mockingjay, The Killers, Bob Marley, and Return of the King. Anyway, long story short. I don’t want to wake up. And when I do to days like this… My father’s friend is replacing the water heater, which means I’m broke. I know, Inspector, I’m a broken freaking record. The floor and walls are still messed up. There’s no food save for a bucket of shrimp (like nine). And some BBQ. When’s payday again? And does it even matter? Am I beginning to understand that earworm that’s been in my head for a few days? Braxton? It’s Michael Jackson’s “Who Is It?” Particularly the chorus, “And it doesn’t seem to matter. And it doesn’t seem right.”

But nothing is. I was not prepared to be without my son. And it seems Virgil isn’t ready to be without me. He’s been awfully cuddly the past few days. Does he want the whole bed? And so what if I leave, backpack and all? I remember when I was going to the library every day, and for what? And again, I can go to the Day Job and get my slave wage. The critic isn’t going to like any of this. Take it as a result of my failure Inspector to “Be A Man.” The Macho Man had it right. Hell! Mulan did. And my boys are better men. At the same time, I want to be a dead one. But fatherhood equals manhood, right. B Prepared For Virgil

1032 Days Without B III, Day 473 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 147 ~Crying! Can’t B, Virgil…~

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I’m not a math guy. But what do you get when you dream of being a baby, plus a movie like The Golden Child. Eddie Murphy asking for advice from The Old Man. Then there’s a boy and his mom in Squid Game, then The Cress Theory. Crying! Can’t B, Virgil…

Saturday, November 25, 2023

Tale 147 ~Crying! Can’t B, Virgil…~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now… which means the whole death and taxes stick is not a universal truth. No, for me…

A thirty-nine-year-old man? As they say, comedy comes in threes. So here are three truths.

The first, always and forever, is my son is dead. But more to the point, I won’t CONSIDER him dead. Yes, I killed him by sitting here refusing to acknowledge him. And Let Me Sign. You know my name on the dotted line in the veterinarian’s office. Braxton is dead. Secondly, while I’m asking, “Is It A Crime?” Let’s speak of my CRIMINALITY. Not a dad goes by that I don’t break the law. Hell! I’ve been lying here in my bed doing what Lu?

Well, after that, the third thing is this? I’ve been CRYING. Again I am damn near forty, Lady Lunalesca, and I’m breaking down into tears.

I have seen the ocean once… I had one picture to prove it. So, of course, the Olds took it. Lunalesca, I haven’t been welcome in their home forever. But the last time I was there, Lu, it wasn’t a picture of me anywhere. Birth certificate, diploma, awards, or whatever. How do I know if I was ever born? Do I even exist? I can point out another truth, Luna. As the song goes, “I don’t wanna die. I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all.” With all of these tears, the ocean I’ve seen could be all the crying I’ve done. Yesterday, today. Go back to when I was a child. As if I’m not now. I HAD to call my Old Man.

What! I can’t let the house flood. While I consider this place Braxton’s home. Lunalesca, this house has never been mine. And what does this mean for poor little Virgil? Reincarnation of my son. No, he is not. I couldn’t save him from the heat. And I can’t do anything about the flood. Well, other than Thoughts and Prayers. And with me as the cause of all this mess. The Hauntings of Playing God… And without Squid Game Cash Luna. That’s what I did after talking to my Old Man. I lost myself in TV and books. So sad, Lu. And more pathetic than my boys. It would explain the dreams I’ve been having… me crying and naked. The Golden Child? Crying! Can’t B, Virgil…

1028 Days Without B III, Day 469 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 145 ~Virgil Talks Turkey Braxton~

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What sound does a turkey make? “It’s turkey time. Gobble, gobble.” Personally, I’m more JLAW than JLO, but anyway. Braxton and I didn’t have many Thanksgiving traditions. I hope my Ma sends food. Virgil dreams the same. “Virgil Talks Turkey Braxton.”

Thursday, November 23, 2023

Tale 145 ~Virgil Talks Turkey Braxton~

1026 Days Without B III, Day 467 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I’m sure you went all “U Name It” wherever you are. Now Virgil and I…

Well, Virgil might as well be a turkey because he’s not doing any talking. But I’m guessing he knows what day it is, considering he’s been extra cuddly this morning. And look at me being a meanie, pushing him by his big belly away from me. But at least I got up “on time.” And what does that mean? I’ve got nowhere to go today. Will Ma come out today?

Your grandmommy, B, hasn’t failed yet, but as the song goes, “What’s My Age Again?” Next to your death, getting older is my prevalent thought. Two worst days of existence. But shouldn’t we be talking about one of the best of yours? Thanksgiving is Christmas. At least to you, it was/is. To me, Another Day

I can’t even think about turkey or ham with that energy shot I took an hour ago. I did mention that I’m wide awake. Woke, as it were. Should I watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade? I’m at a loss as to what to do today. We had no traditions, B III. Nothing at all…

I’ve even gone back to last year, and it looks like I was in the same place or thereabouts.

The freaking Day Job. Tomorrow will be Hell! So I’ll spend most of the day wishing I was a deep-fried turkey. Watching people burn down their houses is one of the many things I’ve been up to this morning. One of the more… innocent. Then, Karlee Grey in “Native Passion.” Eww.

And to think there was a time I was rather glad you got into trouble so I had alone time.

I would give it all up if I could have you back again, Braxton. That would be something to be thankful for. But honestly, I feel like the Native Americans in the aftermath of meeting the pilgrims. No Bueno. Like the film Silent Hill, “Your Faith Brings Death.” Offending everyone everything today? Turkeys, Christians, Ma, Native Americans… All the reasons I’m going to fry, roast, um, bake? I’m going to Hell, but I’m not a cook B. It’s why I’ll be thankful for your grandmommy. I’m thankful Virgil is alive. Always and forever, I’m thankful and damn proud you’re my boy. Virgil Talks Turkey Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad