Tag: Guilt

Chronicle 190 ~Brave As Braxton Tails~

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Do you know why people don’t hear my stories? Um, that in itself is a long story, but B was always one to listen. And if I had listened to him… Hell, I wouldn’t be reading two Wendy Van de Poll books this week. After Jack’s. “Brave As Braxton Tails.”

Friday, January 7, 2022

Chronicle 190 ~Brave As Braxton Tails~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can buy the tasty bacon for Braxton. Not what I “STOLE” from Jack’s.

Yes, Lady Sophia, that’s what I’ve been thinking about going on three days now. It beats what I was thinking about this time last year, for the record. Gospel 190 Mounting Vague Assumptions Will. Sometimes I miss Dirty Diana, but those days are for Braxton. Hell, every day is for B now. But I should be telling you a story. Well more like what I wish had happened. I’m sure I’ve told you the one about Braxton and how he earned another nickname, “Pancake.” How I would say to him, “I love you like pancakes,” often. Anyway, something I didn’t confess to Inspector Echo Wednesday. So I’m sitting in line waiting for my chicken biscuit combo. The lady gives me the wrong order. Easy fix.

If I were a man of action. If this was The Legend of Zelda, hell, The Legend of Braxton, my little prince. Thou art courageous Will, but no, I’m not. So I take the wrong food. Lucky for me, they also ordered a chicken biscuit. If it’s any consolation, I did ask for my Sprite. What, it helps settle my stomach? Root beer is my favorite, but they don’t have that. Plus, I’m too scared to ask for Strawberry Fanta. Yet I wish I could have come back and faced B III’s wrath for not getting hash browns. I would have shared the pancakes, Sophia. Braxton would have ignored the bacon like he did the first time he ever stole my breakfast. Father and son.

As far as B III’s concerned, I was the bravest man he knew. That’s not saying much between me, his grandpa, and the vet at Banfield we both hated. He loved my father even when he got kicked four feet through a door. The veterinarian, if he’d been there. Sigh… Braxton would have gotten one more day. Chicks kill me; Braxton got that same courtesy. Unfair and not cool, I know, I killed Braxton. True Story. Braxton, thou art courageous. Next to love, there will always be his courage, bravery, sacrifice, and victory tales. Wherever B III finds himself these days. In books about his passing? My shadow, he who gave me courage. For a life worth more than a Jack’s. Brave As Braxton Tails.

“I give hope to men, I leave none for myself.”

“I come on behalf of one whom I love.” ― Lord of the Rings… (Braxton)

341 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 188 ~Surprise, It’s A B~

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Surprise, I’m still alive, but I’ve been saying that since I bought cheap sleeping pills. I can’t take aspirin anymore, but who knows. Does a liver recover? More concerned about my heart and wallet. Braxton was my constant. No Surprise, It’s A B

Wednesday, January 5, 2022

Chronicle 188 ~Surprise, It’s A B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but no, I don’t have a new best friend. Well, how do I know with Time-Travel?

I didn’t know I’d try “adulting” and pay my own way for once. I gave my Ma a 50 Echo. Um, Echo, that put me in a bad way with finances, so I could be starving this week, but no. Then I got reimbursed for my eye exam, so that’s $138.00 Inspector Echo. Hell, I didn’t know I would start this year pissing off another woman. Icky choice of words. Anyway, I saved $10.00 not having to pay Maitland Ward. Capital A had me in a bad way. I’m upset I won’t see Cherry in a particular light again. Making women happy Inspector Echo? You know that’s my thing, ha. And let’s not talk about the Basic Bitch. It is a New Year, right. Surprise!

I’m still alive as the song goes, but Braxton is not. After all the bangs, booms, and blasts from last night. Again I’m back in time; today is January 1, 2022. B III didn’t have a heart attack this time last year; he wasn’t hit with anything. Dear God, I looked it up for sure. Gospel 188 ~Such A Squeaky Will~ I don’t want to read it. Then there’s the book I picked out today. Christmas is done, and I didn’t know where the Hell I was before, during, after Braxton. It was routine, and now as always, I’m a day late and a dollar short with his death. My first book this New Year, “My Dog Has Died: What Do I Do?” Surprise, Surprise!

Bucks, Babes, my Boy all coming and going this way and that. It’s like I’m always screaming at the TV, tell me something I don’t know. A moneyed white dude gets away with anything and everything again, inevitable. Enough past talk, future is coming on. Which, of course, is why I’m talking to you this Saturday, E. Day Job, Humiliations Galore. Besides getting reimbursed or my Ma stopping by, the future is always worse. That’s a sin I can report to you today. I knocked off speaking positivity into my life from my New Year’s Resolutions. Now that would be something if I could keep them. I’d settle for having a good day. In school, a D was acceptable. In life, Surprise, It’s A B.

Gospel 188 ~Such A Squeaky Will~
Gospel 188 ~Such A Squeaky Will~

339 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 183 ~Today Could B Better~

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Could today be better? Story of this life, my life… At least when I would come back, that B was my four-legged son who only saw one month of this terrible year. 2020 no 2021 was the worst year ever, and still, I have to believe. Today Could B Better

Friday, December 31, 2021

Chronicle 183 ~Today Could B Better~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so what could make next year better… A Trillion? No! I want my best friend back.

So yes, today could be better, this whole damn year. The worse year of my life, and how dare I. At least I’m alive. Braxton is dead. What a way to end this year, huh, Lady Sophia? God, I don’t want to say “Another Day.” Woke up Late, Lost my clothes, still Lying in bed. Any day, I’m not at the Day Job. And I’m giving this whole writing thing a shot. Hell, I should be counting this as a good day. Oh, speaking of shots, looks like I’m not eligible for the booster yet against COVID-19. Who knows, I could get lucky today, Sophia. Consider this a good day to die? Dangerous words and hurtful. Let’s not even get into the Cherry disagreement yesterday.

Instead, Sophia, let’s talk about this year in general. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Because this isn’t slavery, Ray Garofalo, or the Holocaust, Texas. Living’s like South Park. The good, it was only Thursday; this art saying the things I have now, I once prayed for. I had a friend, a family for 15 years. Fucking almost saw Cherry and M Anime’s Yabbos. The bad is that it’s pretty sad; all I have to look forward to in life is telling girls to “Get Naked” like Limp Bizkit. Mankind’s most primal nature. If not that, then staying alive B. The ugly? Not how my son died. Me watching him and him watching me. It was my betrayal. The flesh has nothing on the soul.

Yet I look at my resolutions from 2020 to 2021. Again I am disgusted. What was number one on the list? I AM Seeing My Dæmon Through Another Year. That’s from Gospel 185 ~Here I Am, Will~. Thirteen Resolutions and only three completed. Braxton’s inevitable. Today’s plan if I’m not staring at the “Pictures on My Phone,” thank you, Wheeler Walker Jr. More like “I Touch Myself.” I should try to do something for Stuff And Thangs, you know, OnlyFans. The only fireworks that I allow. Anyway, Lady Sophia, Resolutions. Every day can be better than the last. I should make every breath mean something since Braxton no longer breathes. He’s here. I must believe. Otherwise, why am I still here? Today Could B Better.

334 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 181 ~Time To B Humiliated~

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When a guy goes without the ladies for so long… I remember what I bought; some years back on E-Day. What I can’t bring back; is my B or the guy I was before my Day Job, other dumb people, my Dad. But they all call sigh. Dear B, “Time To B Humiliated”

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

Chronicle 181 ~Time To B Humiliated~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and with that kind of money, there’s no such thing as Humiliations Galore. The Princess Bride?

But Inspector these days, I’m all about “Don’t Look Up.” Only I won’t be watching it again tonight. There’s no time. Inspector, how much have I wasted this Monday afternoon? Time Travel, of course. Hell, most of this life is spent daydreaming about the embarrassments to come. Yes, we will get into sex. But so far now, walking around nude is A-Ok. Yet I’m ashamed of the fact that I haven’t done anything to save myself today. Every day I’m sitting here is an insult to B III’s memory. I told Braxton that we’d have a life. Inspector, am I living? Is he? I have to believe he’s here, the books keep telling me. Well, not my current selection. Reading is a good thing, Inspector.

I’ll never believe that reading is a waste of time. But focusing on two things at the same damn time that aren’t Yabbos, Echo. My dick and the rich man that’s banging a hot elf. “Night Before.” I think about those 161 Days a mistake, in mourning, a type of mania without B here. How many times did I hope B would get in trouble or I could close the bathroom door? You want a confession, Inspector; I mean an honest confession? After 161 Days, I’m not sure how long I could go with a girl. Not tooting my own horn, but I WAS pretty good… in bed, of course. Or bad/naughty whatever. Anyway, when I gave up monk status… where’s my Stamina Training Unit?

Am I older, still fucked up, not the man I used to be? And never who I want to be. Not at the Day Job ever. How many ways will I be humiliated in my next shift? I’ve been complaining about money, but I rejected some more hours. Save my shame for the bed, thanks. The empty bed. I’d give up every girl if my boy and I could go right on living like always. My new “workstation” is coming soon, and there are plenty of bedroom ways for extra cash. I said I’d get the booster on New Year’s Day. And I can pick up condoms and, um, pills. Nothing brings back the dead. Who I was before Humiliations Galore. Time To B Humiliated

332 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 176 ~B’s Christmas, Who’s Counting~

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I wish tonight I’d be reading a Christmas “story.” I haven’t even picked out a new book. I should see if A Christmas Story is on TV. I could tell you about The Matrix Resurrections if I understood it… “But B’s Christmas, Who’s Counting, um one.”

Friday, December 24, 2021

Chronicle 176 ~B’s Christmas, Who’s Counting~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but it’s not for songwriting. I’ve been down that road before. Today though, this is new.

One, first and foremost, Braxton’s not here. Or he is? Geez, how long did I believe in Santa? I can’t believe in Braxton for 327 Days. Santa can take everything back if I get B. “Two girls will be upset, Will.”. Santa would say, who doesn’t look a thing like Jesus. The gift of life, Lady Sophia. Between some girl’s legs. Four boobs Soph. A threesome, a wish. Three wishes and my Olds were better capping it at ten. Yet I blame them for everything. Okay, my “father” for the most part. Then, of course, there’s B III. Not my gift but then… Four little legs came running to get in the car. Those legs followed me everywhere, and now my Braxton flies. I believe.

Five dollars was my cost of betrayal. Well over three hundred but again, who’s counting. At least Judas made thirty pieces of silver. I betrayed my God/dog for my manhood. Stuff and Thangs, my Onlyfans, all because I needed to feel something. Braxton was comfort and joy as the song goes. The Day Job brings RAGE. Here’s to mindless pleasures. Six in the morning, though? I want Braxton to wake me up like he once did when I had an off day. Hell, I might even go back to when my sister and I were kids with all our gifts. Seven days Lady Sophia. Can I have back the seven days when Braxton was sick? Try again? I would save him; I keep telling myself that. Give me a day in the week to enjoy. Eight days would be too much. But then again, eight orgasms? How about methods if I count up all my sex toys. And then I only want to buy more. Forgetting me. In my LUST.

Nine MM bullets? Don’t get scared. Even Carolina Bound didn’t freak out. I’m thinking about Christmas presents, and as I said, Sophia, I could use the ammo, okay. JIC right? Ten dollars’ worth of Braxton’s food is still in the refrigerator. Care to wager Sophia? Eleven girls for a brothel? Um thirteen, Thirteen Women (and Only One Man in Town). Twelve, though, my to-do list. Braxton gave me fifteen years. We counted on each other, but B’s Christmas, Who’s Counting?

327 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 174 ~B Come Home For~

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I’m glad I wrote this before today; otherwise, it would be all Humiliations Galore. There’s a reason we only see Santa once a year. It keeps him likable. People at the Day Job… I’m even less in the Christmas spirit, so why ask “B Come Home For?”

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

Chronicle 174 ~B Come Home For~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but all the fries, hot dogs, steak, and things Braxton shouldn’t have, won’t bring him back.

Christmas? So before I forget again, I’ve been bringing up what Braxton and I did. Before I discovered Goodreads, or cared to pick a genre. I’d read Christmas Erotica daily. In the AM, of course, B III would sleep. If in the evening, Braxton’s on my legs, he’d nap away. I’d make it to the store at some point and pick him out a small toy. But not Last Christmas. Ok, putting my phone away. Well, we’d stay up watching Official NORAD Tracks Santa. On Christmas morning, we’d go walking, yup. The world was so quiet, Braxton and I ruled. I’d share more than usual, and if I had a present, I’d give it to him, which he would ignore for my pancakes. The usual.

I do things without thinking sometimes. Picking up a box of pancakes on my last store trip. I got bacon and sausage too. This year I even picked out a toy for him. Um, ok, Last Christmas, I said I’d make it up to him for his birthday. It would’ve been B III’s Sweet 16. I keep saying Braxton and I aren’t big on the holidays, but I didn’t get him a gift for 16. Echo, I kept my word on my E-Day, but B III didn’t show up. Or he ate the missing potato. Remember Red Lobster? My Ma’s food was better on Thanksgiving, and still no B III. Inspector is it any wonder I’ve read about other worlds. Besides Christmas, The Rainbow Bridge.

Do you remember Senator Leighton from the movie Iron Jawed Angels? No, I haven’t been watching Christmas movies. I could watch one with Braxton’s Aunt. Bear with me, Echo. So his character is fictional, but do you recall how he took everything from his wife? He took her money, her children, damn near life. Then he expected she’d kowtow easy. If I had been his lawyer, I would have laughed in his face, but now I am that STUPID, Echo. I talked about how offensive I find that song Someday At Christmas. Why at Christmas? I wanted Braxton back the moment he stopped breathing. If he’s on the doorstep tomorrow… well fuck my Day Job. But for Christmas, for me ever. B Come Home For

325 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 169 ~B There Dead Air~

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Blah, blah, blah, all under the guise of the holiday, but that’s still a week away. I should have a new story to tell. My first Christmas without my boy or anyone. The cold bothers me, but Elsa is hot. The worst thing is the silence. B There Dead Air

Friday, December 17, 2021

Chronicle 169 ~B There Dead Air~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means Christmas should be a pretty big holiday for me. When I was a child…

Halloween? A few were spent on the streets of suburbia behind a mask ha. Others I was in a church here or there. Now, wait, aren’t I supposed to be talking about Christmas? Hell, this whole season in my life, this Mad Season, insane, inevitable? Somehow I ain’t Iron Man yet. Well, unless we’re talking about my willy. I swear, Lady Sophia, I need to treat LUST like a fucking zombie virus. If that were the idea, I would be dead now. Don’t threaten me with a good time, hmm? After my Humiliations, Galore, sigh. Is it any surprise that I’m thinking about the past Sophia? There’s the book Hold by Claire Kent. Remembering a song here or there. And now the movie Dead Air.

Thanksgiving that I have so many stories to tell myself because you know my usual. Again today, as the song goes, “work sucks, I know.” Wasn’t I talking about yesterday, the woman and her Christmas card? Now I got a bag from the Day Job. It ain’t a pink slip. I am thankful that I wrote another story this year and got all the badges to boot. Yes, I lied to get them. But what other accomplishments do I have this year? To check New Year’s resolutions. Of course, one of those was to keep my son alive. You didn’t think we would have a whole conversation without me mentioning him. 2021 is the worst year ever. That’s saying a lot, even beating out my Emergence year. No easy feat.

Christmas time, though, and as I’m sure I’ve said. If I stay out of trouble, this will be the first year I’ve ever been alone. B’s Aunt Carolina Bound said she’s coming to town to celebrate with her Dad. That also means she’s coming to see me. Smiling Faces Sometimes. I mean that more about myself than her. How have I kept it together? Impossible! Sophia, this could all be some nightmare, and I’ll wake up. Some nights I’ve believed. Of course, my go-to is that I’m dead, and this is Hell, but I’m breathing as the song goes, “I’m still breathing, I’m alive. Yet, I dream of an apocalypse. So Dead Air, Sophia? My movie night with her, without Braxton… B There Dead Air

320 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 167 ~Wings, No Bill, Braxton~

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I had days off from the Day Job. How did I see to it that they weren’t wasted? I got Astigmatism and the Doc. I could use some new glasses. Well, as long as I can see my son… oh right. Um, I could go blind for “other” things. Wings, No Bill, Braxton

Wednesday, December 15, 2021

Chronicle 167 ~Wings, No Bill, Braxton~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I could help so many dogs, but I can’t afford the wings. Not again, Inspector.

Astigmatism isn’t fatal, but there’s a reason I’m not spending $350 to $550 on glasses. Yabbos, I “love” incredible Yabbos. I could feel my way Echo. And always, Spank Bank. There’s the fact that I broke my “streak” yesterday. They say you’ll go blind “jacking.” Inspector, I also know that I’ll never see anything as beautiful as Braxton. No, my friend, all I saw was the $138.00 that my Day Job card won’t pay off. Even when I’m not there, the Day Job results in Humiliations Galore with my declined card. Then I went through the trouble of making a claim. That, of course, will be rejected. There’s also the fact that if I took more from my paycheck, boom, new glasses. Not this year.

I’d joke with B III that he’d become a seeing-eye dog, or I’d be a seeing-eye man. It turned out to be the latter as I carried him and heard B’s vets. “Don’t move anything,” they said when he was still on 4 legs. 318 Days Echo, everything remains. Always Echo. Now I’m planning on buying a frame weekly since only two treats remain. I could go scrounging around in the crumbs again and hope to find a few more, but again my eyes, my eyes. I should check to see if Walmart sells dog frames. NO giving my Day Job cash! Better to be a live chicken with my cowardice in that place than a dead duck. It’s not fair, Inspector. Life’s not fair.

That was pretty much me in the tub yesterday working on Stuff And Thangs for OnlyFans. Hell, one of the reasons I would keep the door open instead of having my private time is B III. Braxton would need me, or he’d rest against my leg if he was sick. Braxton was never one for water. Which is why I took him to the groomers. Being mad at them took a bit of the heat off me since I took him there. He didn’t want to be a duck or an angel. And yet, in trying to stop him from gaining his wings. I murdered Braxton. Dammit, that was dark, and um, books tell me I didn’t. Yet, I’m still alive. Wings, No Bill, Braxton.

318 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 162 ~B There Bad Stories~

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Most of the stories I write end in a brothel someplace. And I won’t dare to say I’m one to write a harem romance. As for this month, I’ll only be reading Christmas “stories.” And hoping by the end, well… not looking for miracles. B There Bad Stories.

Friday, December 10, 2021

Chronicle 162 ~B There Bad Stories~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I’ll never tell the story of inherited wealth. I work. The Day Job’s the worst.

So I tell myself an even worse tale. Today while I was buried in boxes, of course, I thought of those last few minutes before I resigned my son to one. I ignored everything else. Sophia, if I had done that before and focused on B III, he would still be with me. I mean more than spirit. How long am I going to tell this story, hmm? Nothing’s more horrible. You’re asking about good stories. I tried that while I was buying coffee for Cherry. Sad that my paycheck has never been that big. It was only because of 3 paid vacation days, ha. America, America. If you wonder why I have been avoiding the news for some time now. End of the world…

Please, my world ended on Sunday, January 31, 2021, at around 3:30 – 3:45 PM. The Revolution Will Not Be Televised. Watch World War III On Pay TV. No, I’m not scared. Yet another lie. Now don’t get me wrong, Lady Sophia, I’m not afraid for the country. We’re beyond screwed, but no. As always, I’m one selfish prick. Always bad words. OnlyFans Lady Sophia. My Stuff and Thangs if you’re wondering where I was tonight. Well, this afternoon, for the most part. A picture is worth a thousand words or $5.00. Only where was I this morning? Besides my good deed for today, I was waiting for sirens, boots at the door. To be on the news. The one tale I don’t want to tell

Like my tears, but they always come. Today they were brought on by another book I’m reading. I’m getting into the Christmas spirit, my first one ever alone thirty-seven years. So the story is called “The Christmas Nanny” by Elizabeth Kelly. Remember I read her work last year, “The Christmas Wife.” Should I read the one with the dog? NEVER!!! Sophia, you know the stories I tell to myself at night? I was telling myself the story of Final Fantasy VIII. Only freaking YouTube reactions. I’ve been watching Squid Game. Okay, I mean the reactions now. How I wish my Gganbu would come back all rich. Knowing Braxton, food wouldn’t be an issue. A Christmas miracle. I got some time, only B There Bad Stories.

313 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 160 ~B Not Ashamed Today~

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Today was uneventful at the Day Job. Not a win, but it could have been far worse. I’m ashamed I had to go to such a place but not what I did getting back to the house. For the love of money, for the love of Braxton. B Not Ashamed Today

Wednesday, December 8, 2021

Chronicle 160 ~B Not Ashamed Today~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and like the others, have I no shame, have I no honor? I don’t have Braxton.

That fact alone bothers me more than anything. Looking at the date, I see I missed any remembrance of Pearl Harbor. Way before my time, of course, but history lessons? Inspector, I haven’t forgotten my Ma’s birthday yet. I should put an alert on the phone to be safe. Do I even have the money to get her anything? A present from B and me. Inspector, I’m not bothered by all that begging I did the other day with Cherry yesterday. Hell, I’m a guy, and I like Yabbos. Everything I’ve ever wanted from this world is not for me. If anything, I should be grateful for days like today. Say it with me “Humiliations Galore.” Only when there’s nothing of real merit Inspector Echo.

Nothing of real merit. Like my body? The things that happen since I have claimed monk status once again. It hasn’t even been thirty days yet and tonight is a hard one if you catch my meaning. Find a way to survive the night. I want to go back to I Am Legend, for real. Braxton and I never hid in a bathtub. With him around, I was never scared for myself. Well, no, that’s a lie in a way. I was afraid that I would leave him alone. I stay alive for him. If he sees me now. Sad that he’s the only one who does, meaning find clothes. Inspector, this afternoon I was back to Stuff And Thangs after a month. NaNoWriMo season.

That’s how I should be making my money with writing. How long have I had this blog? How about all that money I paid to have Gulp published? NaNoWriMos completed? Instead, it’s like I’m content to waste another decade at the Day Job. Even if every day was like today, it’s still Hell. My very own Skid Row, and here I am playing Seymour Krelborn. I keep telling myself I’ll do anything to escape, which means this… Stay Awake. Inspector, I would rather be naked, isn’t that so? As long as I sleep uninterrupted. Inspector, that’s what I should be ashamed of. Waking up because B III needs me is one thing, but my fucking Day Job? The promise of fries. B Not Ashamed Today.

311 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will