Tag: Hell

Tale 215 ~B For Virgil’s Freedom~

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While I’m listening to my son’s playlist, “Love Is A Long Road.” What about loss or living? There’s also something called Acceptance… No, it’s not happening! There is a term I have been hearing. Freedom… from what, for what? “B For Virgil’s Freedom.”

Thursday, February 1, 2024

Tale 215 ~B For Virgil’s Freedom~

1096 Days Without B III, Day 537 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I mean, today is only just beginning, and yesterday… Is this what they call ACCEPTANCE?

Three years and counting. And I should have done more B. I know. But wasn’t that the whole point? If I had listened to you that Wednesday. I could have scrapped the Day Job that Thursday. And Friday? You weren’t dead yet. But they said you were on your way. And as I posted yesterday about you, “I said, he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” You were my savior.

How many pop culture references is that, by the way…? “When You Were Young?” “Send “Me On My Way.” And religious wise? I didn’t pray.

But that brings me to hearing your voice today and the first song I did hear today, Little B. Songbird…

While I was thinking about you, wherever you are, even if I’m stuck here crying over you. B, let me say… “And I wish you all the love in the world. But most of all, I wish it from myself.”

I think I finally understand that dream I had a couple of weeks back. You know, the one when you were a seagull. And you were eating some book I wrote. I wondered why you would be a seagull when there are so many birds in the world. Seagulls are known for making noise but not singing. They are also known for eating garbage. So yeah, you eating something I wrote. But why? Well, considering my slogging through pages, Braxton. It’s all garbage. Free garbage.

You’re not free to leave it yet, Braxton. I was trying to explain to your Aunt how I repeat the same routine year after year. I haven’t let you go. And I won’t be doing that. And here I go, crying again. Anyway. Like in life, you didn’t feel free to leave me. My selfishness. Braxton, you hang out, having to take the garbage your Daddy continues to spew forth.

And is that why V cries? He’s at least the color of a seagull. But it’s as if he isn’t free to be himself because, for the 537 days since he arrived, he only gets the scraps of “love. B.

Oh, what would it take to be free? All of us? It won’t be today. The 4th, 10th, 13th, 14th etc. B For Virgil’s Freedom

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 214 ~B Down, V Button~

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“Get down, B!” How many times did I say that in 15 years? If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t always directed at Braxton. Only the time it really mattered… The time to end his suffering. To live up to his name… Be Free, B III. Today, B Down, V Button.

Wednesday, January 31, 2024

Tale 214 ~B Down, V Button~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. I killed my son. Braxton Barks Bradford died three years ago on this day. Sunday, January 31, 2021.

Inspector Echo, that is the only sin that matters today. With these two hands, I ended his 15 years of life. Not existence, Echo. No! Zombies exist. I believe in ghosts, too. My B III? I’ll even give God a shot. Because Only God Knows Why, if I ever prayed for anything, it was my boy’s life. If there was a button to choose between Braxton’s life and mine. Dead! I would die for Braxton to live without question. Death doesn’t frighten me. The how…

How do I do this, Inspector? Any of it? Death is so much simpler. How simple is it? B III.

I pushed a button on a screen. I put pen to paper. Hell! Before all of that, I pushed Braxton.

And now I push tears out of these eyes. It’s my fourth time crying today. Tuesday, January 30, 2024. Because I only want to push a few buttons come the day my boy B died.

The push of a needle…

The Vet didn’t kill him. I carry that weight… all six pounds of what was left between myself and the Day Job. Now, ask me why. Because I didn’t want to push buttons to tell a story. I pushed the buttons on alarm clocks because I was too tired. Exhaustion. Inspector, I am lazy and left loveless. Because I killed my Braxton. What about Virgil?

There is no V button for this. How To Save A Life. How To Love A Life. Excuse me, Inspector.

To my firstborn son Braxton:
I still don’t know how to do it B III…

2021 Gospel 214 ~Will’s “Dæmon” Day Afternoon~ The Last Day
2022 Chronicle 214 ~Be Curious And Not Psychotic~
2023 Saga 214 ~To B, Loved Again~

This is the third year Little B. The last thing you need is another of my lists. Or what about me telling THEM that it was okay… I’ll never forget the look you gave me, my Braxton. “Daddy, can we go home, please?” And I knew then, and you knew too as I gathered your things. But I don’t know how to do this, son. I’ll never know. As I push the same buttons to spell out, I love you, Always. B Down, V Button

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

1095 Days Without B III, Day 536 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 213 ~To B Okay, Virgil~

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The last time I felt okay… It depends on how you define the word okay. For most of these 39 years, it’s always been a response to an order. But then Braxton wished he’d be okay, so I would be too. I hope he is because I’m not. To B Okay, Virgil.

Tuesday, January 30, 2024

Tale 213 ~To B Okay, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… I want us to be okay, to be good. We gonna be “Alright.” Like Virgil?

Because without Braxton… I hear these words echo in my head… “Death is your gift.” It’s what I woke up to as I dragged my corpse out of bed. Then, I shut off the alarm and went back into the darkness. The longer I stay asleep, the longer I don’t bother the world. And since you are my world… It’s an effing excuse, for sure. But it’s also a favor.

Except when it comes to my Braxton. Yesterday or any day ending in Y. I was thinking about how best to honor him. Well, other than keeping my promise and failing to achieve it again.

I will “BE VALIANT” Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am. I want to be the person my dog thinks I am. I’M NOT!

So what comes next? If I had been BETTER before Gospel 213 ~Will “B” Seeing You~. It wouldn’t be necessary. I would be thinking about what to get him for his 19th birthday. Instead, all I could do was keep him with me three years ago. And then, well… love

TRADITION! As in me complaining about putting a man in the dirt. My granddad, to be precise. Saga 213 ~Hard Enough, Hearts Have Cages~. And I said I’d rather be working. It was working my Day Job and the rage I felt there that would kill my son B III.

My indifference with him to hide my fury. My indifference when it comes to you, hiding my grief. Good Luck.

No, I can’t hide my sadness. Not this week. Hell! I’ve cried three times, and it isn’t even 10:00 AM. And tomorrow, I’m going to be anything but okay. And going on three years now…

So, as much as I want to fix things and ask you to stay, it’s as confusing as my first love with my son. Sigh.

I asked him to stay. But I wanted him to go if it were better for him. And if it hadn’t made the decision… Is it any wonder I want the ones I love in collars, leashes, and chains? Pretty wifey and dogs? Not funny. I’m going to cry again.

But even with buying three black dog toys and movies? I’m pretty effing’ far from okay. To B Okay, Virgil

1094 Days Without B III, Day 535 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 212 ~Remember, Do Good, Die Great~

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The last good thing that I’ve done. Define good? Being a father is good. I was/am Braxton’s father. A lot of good That did him. I fed Virgil and washed Braxton’s rug. That’s what I’m supposed to do. Braxton was/is good. “Remember, Do Good, Die Great”

Monday, January 29, 2024

Tale 212 ~Remember, Do Good, Die Great~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… But this one… In the spirit of transparency, I heard this rule from a kid long ago.

And not my kid. My little boy. My Braxton. He lived up to this rule and then some. B III.

Say his name! Braxton Barks Bradford. Yes, Dear Madam, I am here. Now or will be quite shortly. Today is Saturday, January 27, 2024. For you, it’s Monday, January 29, 2024. But for me, it’s Friday, January 29, 2021. I may have stolen today’s rule. But I wrote a lie.

Gospel 212 On The “Will” Succubus, “My Dæmon is suffering from Renal Failure.” B III.

What I should have said is this: “My son Braxton is dying of kidney failure.” And on that Friday, I sat on my hide, much like I’m doing today, and I did nothing! Do Good?

No, Madam, I MESSED Up!

Braxton did good! Braxton died great! That little boy of mine fought to his very last breath, and why? He wanted every single second. But why? For me? His old man. B did good because I promised him. One day, I would be great! And if I did that very thing, my Braxton. I look at the yard that he once protected. The gate is falling apart. Like him?

I didn’t want to notice. I didn’t want to try and be good or plan on dying great. Not me! Bullets, Boobies, and Boys. His last year alive, I was excited. Me and Braxton’s apocalypse.

He saw me through 2020 and then the start of the new year… Death. He did good one last time. ALIVE!

And how do I repay him? While I’m all Dawn of the Dead, let me tell you something, Madam Justice.

“I realize there are some things worse than death, and one of them is sitting here waiting to die.” Kenneth

And that explains the dreams I’ve been having lately. I’ve dreamt about how Joe wanted to burn Mallard down (The Mill). Jules says, “I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd” (Pulp Fiction). And how Bing, at the very least, tried to tell the truth (Fifteen Million Merits.) Even from the grave… a box on the nightstand, my little boy, my soul, Braxton does good.

I told his Aunt that. And I’ve figured it out. I read books and watch shows. I sing “I Have A Dream.” I feed Virgil, calling myself a friend. What does Braxton want? Live Daddy! Remember, Do Good, Die Great

1093 Days Without B III, Day 534 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 208 ~Will B Talking, Virgil~

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Sad as the world is, I still talk to my dead furry son Braxton because he beats everybody still walking around. Not that I can say I am any better. I only wished I’d talked to him more. Before the Thursday, he really got sick. Will B Talking, Virgil.

Thursday, January 25, 2024

Tale 208 ~Will B Talking, Virgil~

1089 Days Without B III, Day 530 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Will I have a good day? Considering it’s 5:30 AM and the flashbacks have started.

Three years ago… Monday, January 25, 2021, Gospel 208 ~Collective Madness Is Called Sanity~. I was scared for you. Of course, it wasn’t all about you, and it should’ve been. Only, did you know? I was busy crying about stuff I had done. I had no idea that “There Are Worse Things I Could Do.” Like never speaking to you again. I didn’t know, Braxton.

But I know today is the last day I’ll speak to you before the three-year mark of your passing. There is something about that number, like fifteen, thirty-nine, and whatever is in the bank now.

Not that it matters this week. But I wish I’d planned better. “Even if you knew what to do, you wouldn’t know what to do.”

How do you talk to a dead man? A child? Because that is what you’ll always be to me, B. My child, my son, and my little prince. And all the times I would tell you that you would be as tall as a king one day. Yep, and I sent you straight to Heaven. Only I didn’t tell you that’s where you were going. I didn’t know how to talk to you that week. Hell! According to my own words, that week, I was speaking to Madam Justice on the Thursday before the week began. And I posted on Sunday, January 24, 2021. But let’s not get bogged down in the numbers. As the song goes, say what you need to say. So what?

I know with utmost certainty that Virgil is not you reincarnated. And you’re no zombie. And even if you were, and with my appointment with the eye doctor, I’d never see it, Braxton. So I wouldn’t be able to put you down. Did I really say that? You were breathing.

Braxton, you were alive, if not well. And there is paperwork showing I did that. And why was that again? Um, I am your father… I need to shut up. There are plenty of reasons to. Because I don’t want to say goodbye? I’m sorry, isn’t going to fix anything. To prove I’m not crazy…

Wednesday, January 31, 2024, we’ll be closer than ever, and the day after that, B III. Will B Talking, Virgil

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 207 ~To B Identified, Virgil~

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The start of the first week of the rest of my existence… without my boy. Three years ago, Sunday, January 24, 2021. By next Sunday, Braxton would be gone, and I wouldn’t recognize myself anymore. My identity then and now? To B Identified, Virgil

Wednesday, January 24, 2024

Tale 207 ~To B Identified, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. And yet it was Braxton who paid for it. “I said, he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.”

But if I ever wanted to be someone… Let it be my little boy. My Braxton, sitting in his bed on a steel table, dying.

I’m not Dolph Ziggler, but “It should have been me!”

My son… my furry little boy, was better than every man I have ever known. Hell! If my “father” wanted to end me. If my Ma had made better decisions. I would be thankful. Have I ever mentioned feeling some kind of way about being thirty-nine, Inspector? Uh, not good…

Anyway, why am I making everything about myself today? After everything that I endured yesterday. As far as I’m concerned, today is Sunday, January 24, 2021—or B’s Last Week. You should read Gospel 207 ~Hell With Instructions Will~ Inspector.

I did mention there, “I did pray for my Dæmon every day.” My dear, sweet little boy, Inspector. God, I would be a praying fool come the end of that week. All to no avail.

Why? I’m not Daniel Kaluuya, Lil Rel Howery, Jeffrey Wright, or LaKeith Stanfield. I could go on. To be a good black man. Hell! To be worthy of being called a man at all. Ha!

And yet I dared to be Braxton’s Daddy. And I couldn’t save him. I can’t keep myself, dear Inspector Echo.

You know the past few nights have been hard. And around 8:45 AM, I downed an energy shot. So, I won’t be taking an afternoon nap. It is far too much work ruining my existence.

And that’s the rub. I don’t even want to see it. But there I was Tuesday afternoon, trying to schedule an appointment with the eye doctor. And trying to figure out my insurance situation. Sigh.

I’d be surprised if somebody weren’t out there right now trying to be me. I swear I don’t want to be me. But trying to imagine who I would be if Braxton was still alive. Who I am now. And the disgusting person I saw staring at me in the mirror as I got sick. And again, the question is why? Simple Inspector. Straight, Black, Atheist… I identify as STUPID.

It beats being a pervert, a victim, or a bad dog owner. Poor Virgil, poor Braxton. To B Identified, Virgil

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

1088 Days Without B III, Day 529 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 206 ~Virgil’s Gifts, B Present~

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I might have to lay off that hot sauce I decided to try. Or maybe Jack’s sold me a drugged-up cookie with their effed-up chicken tenders. I suppose it’s that time of the month, though. Eight days till Braxton passed. “Virgil’s Gifts, B Present.”

Tuesday, January 23, 2024

Tale 206 ~Virgil’s Gifts, B Present~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But now is not the time for (cue SNL joke.) Or “A Wrinkle In Time.”

My mind can be a silly, scary, or sexy place. But last night, there was nothing but a series of nightmares. I can’t even remember anything but the premise. I need your help, please, Daddy.” Braxton didn’t make an appearance. And I felt so weak, calling out for my father. I’m glad we have billions, so I no longer have to call him. What kind of man would I be at 39, calling for him because I can’t provide or handle my business? My love.

Sigh. “A Wrinkle In Time…”

Where did that come from, right? I’ve never read the book or watched the film. But with everything else in my existence, I believe it’s Braxton sending me a sign. Beyond the grave… Comfortingly… Creepy

Anyway, seeing as how we are heading into his last week three years ago… Gospel 206 ~Willing The Days Away~. Never a more fitting title for the story of my life. But aren’t we talking about “A Wrinkle In Time?” With all the holidays and presents I’ve missed back in 2023. And now? Oh, now I want gifts! Well, I’m not getting Braxton back, love. What about last year? Saga 206 ~I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity~. I gave some words to Cherry. It was an effort to see her Yabbos. I can’t even think of her big pillows or yours. Ha! But again, I’m getting off the subject; the movie B was sent to me after yesterday’s nightmares. There were 3 gifts in that movie, right? Comedy comes in threes.

It’s the magic number since Braxton is still alive… somewhere. He’ll always be my B III, but staying 15? This year, he would be 19. But okay, the gifts for what will be B’s memorial.

  1. The gift of my faults. I continue to blame myself for B’s death. Uh, yeah, I killed B, sigh. But what about Virgil? Have I learned anything that will save him? I don’t know.
  2. The gift of my command or Braxton’s. Either I feel stupid or crazy. Both? I was talking to Braxton’s Aunt the other day, and she got into some good “stuff.” So, listening to B. What does he want me to do? I don’t know
  3. The gift to see… maybe. Virgil’s Gifts, B Present.

1087 Days Without B III, Day 528 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 205 ~Don’t Await Crowns, Take Them~

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My head is too big for a crown. Hell! The last thing I had on my head, besides a hood, pillow, or blanket, was a Christmas hat. B’s looking down on me from wherever. Or up as I’m going to Hell. For his death or waiting. Don’t Await Crowns, Take Them

Monday, January 22, 2024

Tale 205 ~Don’t Await Crowns, Take Them~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Even death? Are we talking about Satan’s Sorority Girls? What about a zombie apocalypse? A halo, horns…

You’ll have to excuse me for bringing up Satan’s Sorority Girls yet again. First of all, I’m time-traveling. Today is Friday, January 19, 2024. So, I was talking to Lady Sophia this morning. And every day, we move closer to the day Braxton got his halo and wings. I hope he went for the horns if he ever intends to see me again. I’m going to Hell, Madam. Gospel 205 ~ Will’s The Breast Starer~. Talk about something in my head or face (Sigh). No. I’m going to Hell because of what I did to my son. Now, where did I put my executioner’s hood? I am a man of many hats and masks. And I wish for some crown. Inevitably, why’d I want it?

I wanted a crown to have a queen or a princess by my side one day. I thought. Madam, I wanted a crown. So I could raise the little prince that was/is my Braxton. I wanted to “Take The World” for him. I saw this video the other day about what a mother would do for her child. A “Dog Mom” said she would watch the world burn for her fur baby. As a Dad… once upon a time. I haven’t been for three years. It’s coming up soon. Anyway, the things I could’ve, would’ve, and should’ve done for my son, but for a crown. My Braxton was/is good, and so he deserved his. Braxton earned his. My little boy. Me, on the other hand…

Hell! I have another rule that addresses this, Madam: Rule#13, Power Is All That Matters.

And me being underneath my hood or hiding under the blankets isn’t wearing a crown. Putting a jimmy hat on the other head… Uh, like, have I needed one of those since 2015? My confession.

My head isn’t getting any bigger with all the “knowledge” I’m gaining with these books.

And while I live in a “castle,” it’s paid for by my Olds. Does it look like I have any crowns to pay for anything? If the world isn’t comprised of empty-headed zombies. It’s people who make themselves kings and queens over me. Or I give them such power. And Braxton’s looking down ashamed. No halo, horns, but hoodies galore. Don’t Await Crowns, Take Them.

1086 Days Without B III, Day 527 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 201 ~B’s Two Weeks, Virgil~

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How long have I had my Day Job? It’s close to how long I had B III. One thing he and V share. Both hated me leaving. Two things. I stopped sharing my day with B and V. Three, telling them there’d be a better life and world. B’s Two Weeks, Virgil

Thursday, January 18, 2024

Tale 201 ~B’s Two Weeks, Virgil~

1082 Days Without B III, Day 523 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Are you having a good week? The last two? Incoming. Time Travel is a pain.

First, there’s this fact. I’m talking to you on Sunday, January 14, 2024. And no worries, I’ve already got the 31st and 1st off. Not that you want me crying for two days straight. Honestly, Braxton, I need the fluid. But I don’t know if I’ll still be sick when you see this. Braxton, I know that was a horrible choice of words. I didn’t know what was happening in your little body this day 2021. It was giving its two-week notice of leaving. Apparently, hmm. And I should have done something, anything. But as for me, it was Gospel 201, “Legs, Breasts, There’s Always Chicken.” One of your rules, Braxton. It was one of your last lessons, and I thank you for them all.

But when you needed me to listen to you… I’m going to be saying that a lot. Hell! I hate listening to myself. All last week, I refused to listen to my body. And what about “my” bank account? I’m making today harder by not recovering in bed and looking up the past. How does one say, “Happy Death Day?” And giving an actual two-week notice, Braxton? There’s a reason I’m at the Day Job sick… I can’t afford to stop working. Again, that’s a terrible choice of words, considering next to my indifference. Working so hard. THEY killed you—the Day Job; my existence there. We’ve talked about the RAGE. But my FEAR. That’s something I was feeling way back then, as well. Always…

Only today can we talk about something better. That’s the thing, B. Two weeks notice. It’s what I didn’t have back then. And if I had known. Aren’t I supposed to be on a positive kick? Sounding off about this month? Being sick? Seeing my son die. It seems silly to pretend that everything is normal. That we gon’ be alright. Do you remember every day I’d tell people that it’s another day? Rage, Fear, and Indifference. But B III. There were never two weeks left to love. Always and forever. Braxton, I’d never leave that behind. Being your Dad, Braxton is a job I’ll never quit. Ever. But the guilt, the grief, the furry guy on the floor, little Virgil. B’s Two Weeks, Virgil.

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 200 ~V’s Right, B Ashamed~

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Well, would you look at the time? Am I proud of myself? I’m sitting at the Dining Room table. It took two days. As it’s Sunday, January 14, 2024. Do you see a mommy, some money, a mutt? Braxton wasn’t! 2V? I should be ashamed. “V’s Right, B Ashamed.”

Wednesday, January 17, 2024

Tale 200 ~V’s Right, B Ashamed~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Hell! Anytime I put pen to paper, sight to screen, or boys to buttons. My Braxton, Little Virgil

Neither one of them has anything to be ashamed of. But when I’m sitting here in bed, knowing we’re talking right now because the Day Job sucks. And I’ve been talking about doing something since… the Hell if I know. I only started talking to Lady Lu again because of the Basic Bitch. Which, of course, leads to this question. Inspector, am I ashamed of anything I’ve said about this person or that? Can I stand behind/for my words? Inspector, I don’t think I’ve mentioned Fifteen Million Merits in a bit. Not to Lady Sophia or the Madam. Anyway, my point is, if I was Bingham getting wealthy beyond belief… Inspector, I’d sell out without question. I’d say or do whatever for my son’s life.

That’s what it always comes back to. And I hope I keep this same energy… the grief, love, and rage. Well, it’s January, of course. But I still feel ashamed of failing my son. I’m ashamed of how I’m doing the same to Virgil, though he’s alive and well. Inspector, I always talk about the fact that I didn’t want to feel anything when I returned to him. Indifference. Because everything in this world is rage, fear, and sadness. I can only imagine the news today. Getting worse from where I sit. It’s still Friday, January 12, 2024—time travel. But I won’t finish today. You can call me Hank Hill with, surprise, then Disappointment.

Pretty girls, then the time and where’s all my money…

I wish to be like Clarence from “The Book of Clarence.” I mean doing good with the money and his promise to his mother. I don’t do good, Inspector. But I would always promise Braxton I would get him a huge yard. And a steak dinner? Inspector, must I keep reminding myself that I’m thirty-nine. I ate steak when I made that bet about my writing. But today I bought two books, Inspector. Ashamed, all I have in the kitchen Echo is another frozen dinner and crappy fries. This brings me back to my writing, with all my complaining to Jack’s. Chicken fingers? Eww! If Virgil was right about those. Has he thrown up yet? Not what killed Braxton. Human vittles? V’s Right, B Ashamed

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

1081 Days Without B III, Day 522 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will