Tag: Hell

Tale 173 ~Virgil’s No Joiner, Braxton~

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With every step, I get closer to joining B III. And I won’t even blame him. You know who I want to blame. But doesn’t that make me a selfish, spoiled son at thirty-nine? Yet Virgil wants to join me and Braxton’s boys club. Virgil’s No Joiner, Braxton

Thursday, December 21, 2023

Tale 173 ~Virgil’s No Joiner, Braxton~

1054 Days Without B III, Day 495 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? You were the only one I cut the BS with. Give or take your timeouts.

But I’m in no mood to even watch the sexy girls now. As the song goes, “I need you now! Do you think you can cope? You figured me out that I’m lost, and I’m hopeless.” Yes, B, it’s been a “Mad Season.” And it didn’t have to be. I could have followed you, Braxton. That’s how it always was. I had a realization about it today while being humiliated at PetSmart. Virgil Vivi has to eat. And while I’ve been fighting the urge to be with you for 1054 days. 495 of them have been keeping Virgil from following you into a box, B. Anyway, speaking of following, I hate that center aisle at Petsmart. It reminds me of your last day. Walking out…

I was a “freaking” zombie dude. You were dead, and I was “The Walking Dead.” Existence without you, Braxton… So, I figure it’s walking up that aisle that scares me. Isn’t my heart broken? It beats furiously when I’m walking up. I breathe, Braxton. Why? Because again, with the music… “You took it all, but I’m still breathing. I’m Alive!”

Braxton, it didn’t feel that way this morning. I’ve said my mornings have turned from, my son is dead, to Why is daddy still alive? Myself, your granddaddy? I had to sneak into the house, your home, mind you. So I could clean up after Virgil. Your granddad was here. Or he would be soon, and of course, coward that I am, I ran, Braxton.

Do you remember when he was here around your last year or so? All I could think was, I had to save you. And I came in, and you jumped into my arms. We stood together. I’m crying now thinking about that. Careful! I can’t get the floor wet with tears. They’re still repairing it from the last “flood.” That’s what has been the central issue these past few days.

That was me leaving Virgil here. Braxton, we were meant to fall together. Virgil though?

How do I give him a life when I don’t want my own? It’s not fair. But he tries anyway. Saturday, August 13, 2022, I heard you asking. Let him join our family, but Braxton…

“It feels like I’m dying. I’m so scared all the time.” ― Mara, Spontaneous (2020)

No… Virgil’s No Joiner, Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 172 ~Listing Letters B, V~

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To whom should I send my Christmas list? A Christmas card, a letter? I haven’t even asked B’s Aunt or M Anime what they want for Christmas. Cherry wants people to buy her books. Virgil wants a better human. Braxton… who knows… “Listing Letters B, V.”

Wednesday, December 20, 2023

Tale 172 ~Listing Letters B, V~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But of course, I haven’t told Santa this. And God? We haven’t spoken since Braxton died. Miscommunication? Failure?

If I’m honest with myself, it would be sloth, simoleons, and my seething. Scummy people. And why did I fall on S today? A lack of sleep? I’m always missing my son. The Big S. But before we go into my selfishness and how people popularize words such as “Unalive.” I want to talk about my son. My Braxton, who would not stand for the mess I’m in right now. This is going to be my third Christmas without him. Some holiday huh! Only that wasn’t Santa breaking into the house yesterday—but my Old Man and my nephew Dylan. I’m telling you, I have to remember that Echo. Forgetting names and titles. Sympathy For The Devil, while I miss my little boy, Pet Angel

Not that I would call Braxton that. I remember the bag my boy came back in. The box that now sits on top of the nightstand that carries him. And I could write all the letters to Santa I want. But how do they say… “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,” ha. I doubt some elves could do anything. And what do I want this Christmas, Inspector? While I was at work, I knew exactly what I wanted. But who do I write a letter to? Hmm? Do you know how to get a note to the Grim Reaper, Inspector? The Government? Inspector, I have no clue. Such is the nature of fear, fury, and friendship. Does Virgil have a Christmas list?

A better human? Should I go and take a look at the Man in the Mirror? I’ve been crying for many a reason these days. I don’t want to look at him or anyone else. But I don’t get that luxury, do I? Even now, men are on the way. What do I say? Do? Inspector, not one of them is Santa Claus. I should have let the flood take me down to its depths. To think I call drowning one of my fears. I cut Far Cry 5 off once because my character drowned. Inspector, I’ll put that on paper/on-screen, whatever. But letters to my boys, paying my own bills, or why I hate breathing… The reaper, Santa, my friends. Listing Letters B, V

1053 Days Without B III, Day 494 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 171 ~Virgil’s Questionable Manhood B~

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There’s paperwork around here saying when 2V lost his balls. And a few days ago, I had a floor beneath my feet. You know what those things have in common. Hmm? I’m not looking up either one. Because I’m no kind of man. Virgil’s Questionable Manhood B

Tuesday, December 19, 2023

Tale 171 ~Virgil’s Questionable Manhood B~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… but I’m not a repairman, a janitor, or a groundskeeper. A friend, a father, F…er

As in, “Feel like makin’ love to you.” No, my love. If I had to sum up how I’m feeling… Creep would have to be the word. Hell! I feel like my boys at this particular moment. I mean, dead and with no balls. Braxton and Virgil, respectively. How is it I would choose the life of a dog? At the same time, both of them are better men than me. What is a man?

How To Be A Man
How To Be The Man
What Makes A Monster And What Makes A Man
What Makes A Good Man
I Would Fall In Love With A Dead Man (I Misheard)

I hope you heard me right that I misheard that last one from “The Matrix” My Trinity and I’m Neo…

Oh No, my love! I’m no one. Or at least that’s what I wish I could say. If I had my way, I would never say anything again. I would have died right there beside my firstborn son, 1052 days ago. “I don’t ever wanna feel like I did that day.” Hell! I never left. Existence has been putting one foot in front of the other. And my first step. You know, “towards the grave, you know the box awaits its grisly load.” And as for the other shoe to drop, well… look at the damn floor. It’s not like I need to worry about the critic today, my love. There are bigger fish to fry. It’s funny that this all started with a flood.

I don’t know if Virgil can swim. And you know I can’t. Yet somehow, I survived the tears that came with Braxton’s death. And as for my own? Not yet, I “Woke Up This Morning.” And again, I’m late taking Virgil outside. So what? He can stand in the yard, doing his best impression of a zombie, tombstone, or a mess. Yes, look at the floor, my love. A man provides. And “unconditional love’s for women, children, and dogs.” I’m still 39, my love. No! I was 36 when Little B died. I can’t return to 0, and I’m not looking at 40. Love, a man chooses, a slave obeys. I’m not a man or slave. I am The Walking Dead. Virgil’s Questionable Manhood B

1052 Days Without B III, Day 493 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 170 ~The Truest Sentence, An Excuse~

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Motivational speakers talk about those with excuses. Why aren’t I at the table? They had to pull the floor up. Why aren’t I writing? I have a freaking Day Job. Why am I in bed? I’m tired, and B III’s gone. But Tomorrow… The Truest Sentence, An Excuse

Monday, December 18, 2023

Tale 170 ~The Truest Sentence, An Excuse~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Especially this one. I can sum it up in one word. Tomorrow… Two? No Fear! And Three?

“I love you” was my favorite… as the song goes. All nothing but excuses, falsehoods. Today is Saturday, December 16, 2023. How about why I’m writing to you right now? Hell! I told Braxton all the time that this would lead to a future. So where is it? Why hasn’t it happened? What’s the excuse? I’m no good for Virgil, and I wouldn’t dare use him as a prop, a scapegoat, or an excuse. Indeed, I have another one-word answer for you, dear Madam. Laziness. How about Lazy-Ass? I can keep going. (Opens a dictionary).

  1. Braxton
  2. Disgusted
  3. Masturbation
  4. Sleep
  5. Sick
  6. Money

These are in no particular order. But I’ll say, AHEM, “Sleep is for those people who are broke.”

Do you want evidence that I’m healing over losing my son? Not accepting! Oh no, Madam! Braxton died 1051 days ago, and I’m still counting. But when I wake up every morning and cut off the alarm, do you know what I think? It’s not “Braxton isn’t here anymore.” I say, “I’m tired and should try this ‘Big Sleep’ thing again.” I mean, either way, “Make Me Wanna Die.” Only it’s more I’m sick of existence rather than Braxton’s gone

Don’t get me wrong. The day Braxton died is still worse than the day I was born. B is ahead of E-Day, as it should be. Ohh! “What’s really going to bake your noodle later on is my excuse for waking up.” Do you know?

That makes two of us without a clue. I can tell you why I feel disgusted with myself right now, Madam. Eden McCoy… I am going to Hell. Instagram, GH. I woke up and… TMI! What’s my excuse for it, though? I’m sure I told Lady Lunalesca about stressing out. Madam, every single word has me that way. Hell! Even the meaning of life. Whatever…

“Seek out a kingdom worthy of your soul.” Madam, why aren’t I? Braxton’s still dead. Getting any deader seems unlikely. A zombie apocalypse? The end of the world, uh huh.

“My future is coming on.” But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Let my will be done tomorrow. That is my excuse. Dying? I’ll FAIL Today and Tomorrow. The Truest Sentence, An Excuse

1051 Days Without B III, Day 492 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

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 164 ~They’ll B Air Virgil~

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Follow Your Nose? Do I look like Toucan Sam? And I intend to be a man of leisure, not some random mouth breather. So, I write books? Nope! All the huffing and puffing I do. Women, work, worrying about the house’s mildew scent. “They’ll B Air Virgil.”

Tuesday, December 12, 2023,

Tale 164 ~They’ll B Air Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… Even when we’re on the beach. And I’m still here typing away—my favorite dream.

Sigh… Is that of relief? Regret? Or do I want to rant? It’s a relief that I no longer have the old Day Job. That same breath I used to call out to Braxton whenever I returned. “Just me, Baby B, I would say.” I’ve been holding it lately, but not because of you or Virgil. Baby Doll, it’s been hard. I keep saying that I know. It’s been 1045 days and counting. And I still can’t describe Braxton’s scent when he cuddled beside me. I miss it like crazy. Now there’s only mold and mildew, and I need to spend a lot more money on diapers… Or teach Virgil that he has to go outside for a reason. I’m glad I’m better at business.

Open mouth and insert foot, right? I’ve never been one for talking love. My personality. Cult of Personality. I’ll sing all day long. I’ve even found myself singing to Virgil from time to time. And then there’s playing with our kids, teaching, reading before bedtime. And what do we do after the children are put to bed… Sometimes, “It Seems Like You’re Ready.” Uh, all of the time because… well… You want to know that I’m still breathing. Or at least it seems like I want to. I have your love and the memory of my firstborn son, my love. I have things to keep me breathing. That’s not the question. It’s going about it. Contrary to popular opinion, it’s not that simple, Baby Girl.

This is probably why I do my best Jay Sherman impression and become the most critical critic of my existence. It stinks. I so need to learn to shut up. Don’t waste my breath. Ha! But I won’t turn to cigarettes or, as Todd would say, the “Devil’s Lettuce.” And while I’m on the subject of Eric Vall’s characters. There’s Grayson Price and his thing for vanilla perfume. Your scent can be intoxicating, my dear. Only I should go out and buy some air fresheners for the house, with all the trouble. The smell of cash. “Dollar, dollar bill, y’all.”

I need to take a deep breath and be thankful for it. I’m always trying, my love. Breathing’s the hardest thing? They’ll B Air Virgil?

1045 Days Without B III, Day 486 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 163 ~The End Embodies MY WILL~

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What does it take to have the will not to sleep? There was Braxton’s sickness. Then I found out he was dying. A bit of bucks from the Day Job. And then bouncing along in bed doing… other, never mind. And in the end, who am I. The End Embodies MY WILL

Monday, December 11, 2023

Tale 163 ~The End Embodies MY WILL~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-First Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Like the one I made, that said, “My son will never die.” Unwritten, right? Considering Rule 321.

I would make it either Rule 1 or 366. Hell! I fear a whole lot, but for Braxton. His courage. I should pray for that more than the other stuff. But didn’t I say God, and I haven’t been speaking lots? So, um, 1044 days and counting. Because, in the end, it doesn’t even matter. He’s still dead. And what was I willing to do to save him? I’d give anything. Or at least that’s what I want to say. But what do I do in the end? Why am I late talking to you? Madam, I’m time-traveling, but it’s past 3:30 PM this Saturday, December 9, 2023. Madam, I didn’t even nap today, and all for what? What does the end goal look like, Madam? Please don’t say girls.

“You exist to continue your existence. What’s the point?” Equilibrium

As I see the end. It’s me closing my eyes and hoping I’ll never have to open them. Never again. It’s like I’m always ready for a funeral… my own. “Hell is for those who don’t know they’re dead.” So, for all I know, I may have “done it.” Hmm… well, being here now. If the end is life. Which I have been thinking about plenty with that lady in Texas, Kate Cox. The life and death being forced upon her. I keep saying, Madam, I want a family, but I don’t force women into anything. No! All the lives I could have made are in tissues, tears in the bed sheets, and these two hands. I hear you. Gross!

But do you know what’s worse? You guessed it, breaking the rule and knowing that Braxton was going to die before me. And I did think about it long before it happened on that Sunday, January 31, 2021. And it was by my will that brought about my son’s end. So how does this (motions to myself) all end? And why don’t I feel my will has anything to do with it. If you want the short answer, money. People telling you differently are lying. You can’t see the end if you don’t know where to start. That’s why Braxton fought so hard to live. How do you begin saving me? V has no answers. My will be done indeed. The End Embodies MY WILL.

1044 Days Without B III, Day 485 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM 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