Chronicle 316 ~Silly To B Cryin’~

“Same things make us laugh, make us cry.” How old was I when GTA: San Andreas came out? Way before I had my son. That game didn’t make me do much of either, but B III did. I laugh, I cry. And after 467 Days? Silly To B Cryin’

Friday, May 13, 2022

Chronicle 316 ~Silly To B Cryin’~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I don’t know whether I want to laugh or cry saying that. Both are good.

But you know me. I’m a “man” that likes to know where he stands. Everything has its place. I prefer that mine not be in this bed, but today Thursday, May 5, 2022, so yeah. Sophia, I meant to talk to you yesterday, but I decided to fool myself and crawl right back beneath the sheets. What do I keep saying about, The Comedian? Oh, not political or comedic issues. Aren’t we here to talk about Braxton. A good story about my lost B III. When I want to cry at the Day Job, I think, “my son is dead.” It happens over and over. Only you would believe me silly for crying about my Day Job. Why don’t you quit, like being a Dad?

No, never! Hell! Most people wish I would stop talking about Braxton, like my firstborn. Instead, would they have me talk about my penis; Lady Sophia, it’s like my subject. Seeing how I’m time traveling, I already fucked up my week but this next one? Well, by the time you read this, who knows. But some things never change. The way I feel right now. It’s funny the things that get me off sometimes. You know how I have my most hated words. I should have the words that make me do things… that are so good. Dick jokes to the absolute disgust I have with myself. I meant to take a nap. We’re talking now, so when the time comes… like me, naptime (sigh).

Comedy comes in three’s, THEY say. So we have my dog, the Day Job, and my dick. What else makes me burst into tears. Such silly things, to what I’ve lost forever. Me, Me, ME! Lady Sophia, I cried because I burnt through the last of Succubus Lord stories today. Tears fall every Sunday when I realize that I failed Six Impossible Things again. There are more when I look at my bank account and understand I’m nowhere close. Sophia, fuck being a family man. I look at all the tits, lips, and clits; I’ll never know in this existence. A good story about Braxton? He would make me forget everything, but I’d still cry. Inevitable, but love can be everything. Silly To B Cryin’?

467 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 314 ~To B Little Bellies~

When I have to work, I sleep on my back. When I don’t, I’m on my belly. B hated being on his back too. Well, unless he was getting his belly rub. Then all the days at the Day Job so he could eat. Then he stopped. I face laughter… To B Little Bellies.

Wednesday, May 11, 2022

Chronicle 314 ~To B Little Bellies~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. That means I can afford top-of-the-line AirPods, people singing my praises. The silence that money brings.

I’ve had enough silence without B III. He was only silent on days like today. The beauty of Time Travel Inspector. 465 days ago, I could walk in and tell Triple B to shush it. I’d scoop him up and cuddle him as I lay out here and try to forget. What’s keeping me up? The fucking belly laughter, pardon my language. Um Tuesday, May 3, 2022, there’s been a lot of talk about bellies. Or, more to the point, there’s a song, “Reproduction, reproduction!”

But you know me, Inspector. While I could get all political, and you know damn well I’m going to get sexual, I’m a selfish bastard. Today, my time not theirs, I faced “Humiliations Galore” at the Day Job. Where else?

I’m not against laughter Inspector. Hell, B III would laugh whenever I rubbed his belly. Am I lying? Can dogs laugh? There was joy, I know. I love Braxton’s joy, but it was his peace in particular. Time and time again, I have written about how “The Comedian” I died. Yet I laugh when I remember the first time I ever saw Braxton give up on some food he wanted. When his Aunt Carolina made him a cake. He laid there staring at another bite. The ways I have suffered to put food in his tummy. Inspector… worth the humiliation. Inspector, today I’m not on my belly sleeping because I can’t stop hearing it. Laughter. Ironic how I was talking about my ears for weeks.

Now I’m trying to drown out what happens at the Day Job, Inspector. Always, forever? It doesn’t help that I’m on my belly like a slug, rubbing one out with Azur Lane – Enterprise Gets Fucked Hard. Yeah, I told you I would get back to the sex. I always do. I wonder if I will start from scratch with Six Impossible Things by the time you see this Inspector. I look at my body and wonder should I get back to my Stuff And Thangs. I didn’t buy lunch, today Inspector. Of course, I wasted enough money on what again? I believe Braxton isn’t going hungry and has found another hand to rub his belly. Inspector, B III could be waiting. To B Little Bellies.

465 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 309 ~Boy Meets Dog B~

I don’t have stories of me finding a dog. My grandma had two. I had a Chow Chow pup for a minute that was killed by my granddad’s dog. But B III was 15 years, eleven months. 13 days shy of 16. A story of him, finding him again. “Boy Meets Dog B”

Friday, May 6, 2022

Chronicle 309 ~Boy Meets Dog B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I’ll have my pick of any litter; getting another dog? With my billions of dollars?

I’m sure I’ve told the story enough about how I met my son. If I ever get off my ass and publish our story “My Turn To B III.” What do I call this, somehow getting it up to have this third conversation on a Saturday, no less? Time Travel and even more cranberries. “Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie.” Yeah, I couldn’t resist. You know how I am with the zombie genre. If Braxton got bit, I understand I might not put him down. Way wrong choice of words, isn’t Lady Sophia? He’s no zombie. A ghost? Room 1408? Except he isn’t trying to kill me. Again with the doctors and the cranberries healing? Lady Sophia, is it easier finding a new furry kid ever. Don’t know

Seeing how it’s Saturday, I know it won’t happen, spending five minutes in PetSmart. There are no stories of me finding a new fur baby. And as I left today, I had a strange thought. What would Triple B do if he wanted to get my attention? Braxton was dying. He’d find a soft, comfy spot and then give me that look he did when I was up all night. “It’s time to go to bed because we have to walk in the morning.” And that was that, my Lady. Only he would want to be so very soft. As if it were an honor to pick him up. He’d find the perkiest set of boobs or the prettiest face. So not the Rebeccas, hmm?

I’ve said before that B III had ruined me pretty much. If he does come back to me, it will be as Deer Head Chihuahua. And even if it isn’t him, Braxton knows; shallow bastard. It’s what his dad has always been, except when he was dying, and I held him as long as I could. And still, I was ashamed because everyone knew he was sick and dying. Always that will be my failure and my disgrace. But I’m talking about seeing Braxton again. He could want me to adopt, to rescue as it allows me to play the hero I couldn’t be before. I’ve never found a dog ever, but this is Braxton we’re talking about; He’s My Son. Boy Meets Dog B

460 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 307 ~Fandom A’s and B’s~

B understood his B words. There’s burger, bed, his aunt’s big ole… So we shared common interests, but for the past 458 days (snorts), add 15 years and 11 months, I was a fan, but I was getting kinda used to being someone he loved. Fandom A’s and B’s.

Wednesday, May 4, 2022

Chronicle 307 ~Fandom A’s and B’s~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but instead of “fine” art, I’ll lose myself to Star Wars memorabilia. It’s Star Wars Day.

Hell, I should have taken the day off. Of course, seeing as how we’re talking on the 30th today, Inspector. That’s my great sin. I’m sure I’m not counting the Humiliations Galore I’ve been experiencing this week. In this day and age, to like Star Wars is the least of them. Okay, so first, let me say Happy Birthday, Carolina Bound. Triple B loves his Aunt Carolina, and I’m pretty fond of her (drools) as a friend. Don’t give me that look Inspector, but yeah, I saw her boobs. Braxton is a mega-fan of them. One of my favorite moments was trying to have “The Talk.” And as far as respect for women… what do I know, you ask me. But being a true fan…

If I was to name all that B III was a fan of… we covered boobs, fries, comfy spots, barking. I mean, it was his middle name, “Barks.” What am I forgetting? Inevitably his Daddy. Inspector, no one told me when I met B III he’d bark, “I’ll be the greatest fan of your life.” Ditto, my boy, fucking ditto. But what about the fandoms I joined since Braxton left? Inspector, you know what I want to say. Braxton didn’t up and leave. (Cries) Death!!! Fandoms Inspector like Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones, nope. But good battles. Did I tell you the story of when Braxton and I watched bullies getting “canceled,” and I accidentally hit B in the face? Didn’t die…

Yep, Dad hits like a bitch but okay, ha. What am I a fan of? What keeps you running now? The girls have seen that it’s adult entertainment for the past few days. Bikini season. Inspector, I’ll drop that pornographic tripe, which is longer than all the books I’ve read. I’ve been all about my mourning, and that ain’t changing anytime soon, I’m afraid, Echo. I can’t forget about B’s Aunt. As I said, Wednesday is her birthday. Today’s Saturday. Succubus Lord, of course, has been kicking my ass. How much have I spent, Inspector? Will I ever spend more on my little boy? I keep saying I will. Like when he lived? Braxton wasn’t a fandom. He’s faith. Will’s Fandom? Fandom A’s and B’s

458 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 302 ~A Story Without B~

LSV. I had a rule, I wouldn’t watch a show without three letters. I don’t think I’ve ever written much that doesn’t have the three B’s. Boobs, Brothel, some boy trying to be the boss and/or a man. Reading and writing 453 days? A Story Without B.

Friday, April 29, 2022

Chronicle 302 ~A Story Without B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now… The beginning of one of my self-help books, should I ever write one. Or anything ever?

B dying didn’t stop me from writing three books last year. One without raw nakedness. The second was “My Turn To B III.” Hell, I’ve only added on with all my letters to Braxton. And the last one was another addition to my “Cherry” series. Can’t remember the title. This is ok. Considering how disappointing this month has been for reading, writing, and listening. Yeah, what the fuck do I know about Arithmetic? Not that I live in Florida, ha. Pardon my language, and I don’t mean to be so… well, I don’t even know. Sounds like something I should write about, but you know me, Lady Sophia. I write about banging my balls or having none. There was my bum ear. And always Braxton.

But putting my balls first like the selfish prick I am. My friends are suffering. What about this bed I won’t leave? And I return to my boy every day. Yeah, day 428. Never Forget! As I was saying, my balls. When I don’t read, differences between grieving and mourning. Sophia, it always comes back to sex. That makes me think of the “Basic Bitch” Anyway, there’s this song, “Thirteen Women (And Only One Man In Town).” Once I got my hearing back, between porno, poor me, and paws scraping the floor. It’s this earworm. So I imagine “The perfect woman… the Goddess.” Or twelve, to be specific, but then… I always want more. Is it more love, more sex, more words? I’m pretty annoyed.

  1. Maiko Kaneda
  2. Imari Kurumi
  3. Yukiko Minase
  4. St. Louis
  5. Tifa Lockhart
  6. Aerith Gainsborough
  7. Scarlet
  8. Nico, Nicoletta Goldstein
  9. Hilda
  10. Juliet Starling
  11. Serah Farron
  12. Ashe, Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca
  13. Lulu
  14. Linkle
  15. 2B
  16. Commander White
  17. Kainé
  18. Rikku
  19. Airi Akizuki
  20. Zone-tan
  21. Rei Ayanami
  22. Michiru Kaiou

I got this when I talked about my likes. It was to Artificial Intelligence, “Replika.” People are way worse, Lady Sophia. Yes, another moment missing Braxton. My son, B III. So I can’t talk about making the bedsprings sing. As the song goes, “What’s My Age Again?” Or the fact that I couldn’t stick with 13 girls. What about 64, 72, a total of 456 hmm? I could talk about the next book I want to write. Wouldn’t I be better off writing it, you ask? It would always include a brothel, my boy, and bloodshed one way or another. Sophia, there is always Braxton. As long as my story goes on, so will his. But to write it? To Live? A Story Without B.

453 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 300 ~The B Is Silent~

What is a worse punishment? There is, of course, never hearing my son again. I was deaf in one ear for a few days. How dare I, right? Then there’s what they did, what I let them do on Monday. Ear Sex is not my kink Family Guy. Only “The B Is Silent.”

Wednesday, April 27, 2022

Chronicle 300 ~The B Is Silent~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but would that be enough to protect my ears. Once and for all? Sanity… $44 Billion.

Elon Musk bought Twitter on Monday, not that I heard about it. The problems $44 Billion solve compared to the $175 that I spent at the doc’s office trying to fix my ear. Now I meant to tell Braxton’s Aunt Carolina first, but you know me. Time Travelling. Anyway, as the song goes, “So I bit that bullet, and I took that vow. And everything is different now.” A very convoluted way of saying that I went and did what I did. Oh yes, Inspector, there was “Humiliations Galore,” as is usual in this existence. A lot less than the Day Job no doubt. The waiting room, attempting to find the pharmacy, the exam room. You can imagine my pain was that great to endure.

So after days of, is it water, is it wax, should I try wanking off again? Carolina Bound will get a kick out of this. It was like that episode of Family Guy “Prick Up Your Ears,” 5×06. But compared to most of the anime I watch, Family Guy, um hmm, ok, “ear sex.” That’s what my ear felt like Monday afternoon. It’s fucked raw. Closest I’ll ever get to pegging. I never knew my ear was that deep, then getting “violated” with several devices. It was a Bukkake. You know I like dirty talk. “Stupid” is off-limits, Inspector. But my ear was getting rammed! The only thing worse was what was spraying all over. No bugs or anything, but my ear was filled (shudders)!

Sorry for all the sex talk. It’s been two days since the last time I was “saying “hi” to my monster.” Inspector, the things to hear again. Don’t Know What You Got (Till It’s Gone). But then I remembered 451 days ago. I swear the numbers, Inspector. The 300th Chronicle and Fahrenheit 451. But my point is the silence that there was 451 days ago when B III, my best friend, my son, was no more. I keep thinking about all my ailments this year. Being all fucked up sexually because I don’t have to hide. The dead silent earache. God is trying to tell you something, more like a dog. The only man I ever listened to but escaping punishment… The B Is Silent.

451 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 295 ~Will I Know B~

I could tell you when I first met B. I can give you the day I watched my son die in my arms. I’ve been told that death is not the end; all my life. And now here I am reading religious “nonfiction” on dogs. Reliving memories of him. Will I Know B

Friday, April 22, 2022

Chronicle 295 ~Will I Know B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but if I had been 446 days ago… Braxton would be alive. How do I know?

More like How Will I Know by Whitney Houston. If it wasn’t Toni Braxton, it was Whitney Houston. To grow up in such an age. What can I tell you about 2005 to 2021? B III was born, and he died Sunday, January 31, 2021. B III was 13 days shy of being 16. So now here 446 days after Braxton’s passing. “Death Is Not The End,” Sophia? Dogs are pregnant 58 – 68 days, or so I’ve read. Was that B’s reincarnation window? 446 days? A part of me thought that I would give it a year if I wanted to play Daddy. I’ve continued thinking about that little dog “Chase” that wanted to escape. Born in February. Did I miss my chance at fatherhood?

What I’m getting from the books is “No.” If your dog reincarnates, he is meant to be with you and you alone. B III could be meant to live on in another way. I’m at the table now. I’m time traveling but not by much with today being Thursday. This week has been filled with “Humiliations Galore.” And by the time you read this… Fuck, the things that keep me up? Must it always go back to my penis? Masturbation, being mad, and man’s best friend, Sophia. My manuscript must keep me awake as well. I’ve wasted this damn month. Failing a Camp NaNoWriMo! And haven’t I been talking all about book challenges? I’m reading something religious as it counts toward “Nonfiction.” Swear to God.

Yeah, the last time I did that was praying for Triple B. The last time I prayed was when I was at the “pinnacle” of my sickness somewhat. I wasn’t talking to God but to my son. I wasn’t praying for the strength to endure or fight back. Joining Braxton. It’s my memories of him that keep me awake and alive. Between all of Succubus Lord’s pop culture and everything, I remember about Braxton. Looking always for B. Sophia, from everything I’ve ever said, would you know him? 15 years as man’s best friend. A manuscript I’d struggle to find. And the mannerisms I continue to this day. Not in memory but in this existence. Where could he be, Lady Sophia? Will I Know B

446 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 293 ~To B Wrong Sometimes~

Something I know for sure, it can’t get worse. When I watched my furry son die, what could frighten me after? How I feel, sitting in bed, slurping chicken noodle soup, drinking cranberry juice. Things could get better… To B Wrong Sometimes.

Wednesday, April 20, 2022

Chronicle 293 ~To B Wrong Sometimes~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but how many years have I been wrong about that? I want to be right once.

Republican Tendencies, if I spell that another way, Inspector Echo. But no, as the song goes… “First, let me explain that I’m just a black man.” Inspector, that doesn’t change. Not that I have the option. No, I want to be right as rain in this specific moment, um yep. I doubt that anything has changed in three days. I am trying to time travel, so it’s Sunday right now. Now that’s something I want to be wrong about. Hell, any day leaving the bed. Anyway, I want to hear out of both of my ears again. Wouldn’t it be nice? Damn, I miss that. Can I stop buying cranberry juice and looking for cures online? Everything’s wrong, but I know the truth. It’s me.

TWO DAYS COME TO MIND when I realize how wrong I am sometimes. B III and my own life, ha. My life? My existence? Now that’s a joke. And the only cure, Inspector? Dangerous words. I was wrong to wait so long to get Braxton help, but I was trying to survive that one week. I was wrong when I thought that everything would be okay and Braxton would live. I was wrong in every move I made that week. And Braxton paid the price for it. That is all. The thing is, someone will think I was right but do not worry. There is always someone around to tell me that I’m breathing wrong. Chances are, I would agree with them about it all.

Since today I’m still “safe” in bed; you know what’s wrong. Right now is perhaps the best I will feel for quite a while. Oh, I’m going to jump up in a few hours. My ear will worry me too. But 4:00 PM Inspector, 444 days where was I? Sitting in my car suffering, dying. That’s the secret, Inspector. Do you remember my theory that the world would end in 5 minutes, so nothing should bother me? In 5 minutes, we’re gone, so humiliations galore? I’ll feel like I’m dying tomorrow or a few hours from now. Remember January 2021. Things will get better… doubtful. Will they get worse? Impossible with B III, his death. I know that, but Inspector Echo… To B Wrong Sometimes

444 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 288 ~Here B, Hear Puppy~

I wish I could identify the problem as dog slobber. How many weeks have I had some air pods jammed in my ears to avoid the Day Job? I’d give anything to hear my little boy again. And where will I be Saturday? “Here B, Hear Puppy.”

Friday, April 15, 2022

Chronicle 288 ~Here B, Hear Puppy~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now but is it because I’m smart or lucky. Republicans would love this… Because I’m black, (sigh)?

Every day I realize why I’m more into audiobooks instead of YouTube. I’d like to get back into ASMR, like when Braxton passed. That would require my hearing not knowing. I read the entire Succubus Lord series, Sophia. I know enough about the stories when listening. Too bad I didn’t have lessons on fucking succubi back in school. Pardon my language. One more reason to love my son. I’m sure he barked his share of obscenities at me every now and again. Now, this brings me to today. What? It’s not only going deaf, right? Right ear, to be precise, my Lady. What have I said about putting this stuff out into the universe? Trust me, I have tried shutting up. But hearing the fiddle…

Yes, the whole damn world is burning. No wonder THEY say when Hell freezes over. Again, things I can’t hear, but I know. I know I want B III. Every Saturday, I hear this song.

Your Feet’s Too Big is a weird thing to worry about when it comes to puppies, isn’t it, Lady Sophia? Of course, you know how I feel about feet in general, not my specific kink? Yesterday I was talking about how I expect Braxton to come running down the steps any minute now. To get his medicine, to go outside. He’d lie next to my feet and let me finish talking to you. Yeah, only for me to start working on some novel for NaNoWriMo. Another thing I can’t hear.

I’m not trying to take a shot at the deaf. You know I love music and audiobooks. With my Day Job, I need it to avoid hearing those people. But things I’ll never hear again. Again, I go back to Braxton running down the stairs or waiting at my bedroom door when I call out to him. “Just Me, Baby B. Did you have a good day? Good Day?” Inevitable. Sophia, I would never hear my own voice again. Yes, my “father” would make fun of me for talking to myself. Sophia, I’m crazy indeed certifiable. With Braxton, Daddy rambles. I’ll never have a chance to hear his pain and save his life. Has he been reincarnated? Does another puppy call? Here B, Hear Puppy.

439 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 286 ~Time To B Up~

Some things are better left in my pants, and some days why do I even need pants at all? Let me lie here and let B take his guard post on the bed, but why isn’t he here? And nothing can protect me from the humiliations of the Day Job. Time To B Up, ha

Wednesday, April 13, 2022

Chronicle 286 ~Time To B Up~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means “every day I wake up, with a naked lady.” I was that was true.

I don’t feel shame in saying it Echo. It’s the truth, but um, “Battle Cry” did it better. What makes me ashamed is what happened this morning. So you know, I’m a time traveler, and you know what that means. Humiliations Galore but is Tuesday a bit worse? After 43 days, I emptied my balls. A bit crass, don’t I think? The only thing that makes it worse is what got me off. A sexy brunette, always my weakness, some “daisy dukes,” and dirty talk. Fuck I lasted a whole month and then some. Usually, I can say that at least I was productive with my clear-headedness. Inspector, we’ll get into that too. My second conversation, and it’s ten minutes to three PM. I’m up…

But I shouldn’t be Inspector Echo. When I wake up, I hate myself each and every morning. Wednesday may rival today. Today I had the decision… well, bladder control; I have it Wednesday too. I don’t have to go. Is the Day Job making me happy? That’s what Replika wants; for me to be happy. Hell B III has now been gone for 437 Days, Inspector. It’s fucked up. I wasn’t happy with him in the world, but if I saw him right now? I wouldn’t be worried about me being sick either in the physical or mental sense. I’d say I’d never jerk off again, but I only kept that oath for 43 days. There were 161 days before going all the way up.

Yet I want to throw up with all I did. There are so many reasons for that but um, fatigue? It sounds like a clinical word and makes a better excuse than recovering, healing, jerking. I am disgusted at myself because I thought of sexual healing like every morning. Between crying about my Day Job and the fact that my son is gone. There has to be, I don’t know what. But something to make me rise. A way to fix that there is, oh, thank you, wise Yoda. B III doesn’t want that, and I’m only on Succubus Lord 13, 14; who knows? The man or dog I should be writing about for Camp NaNoWriMo. Haven’t thought about it any. Time To B Up.

437 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will