Tag: Hell

Chronicle 175 ~An Invitation To B~

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So what are my Christmas plans? If I’m lucky, I’ll sleep most of the day. Well, after breakfast. I might take a walk around the neighborhood like I once did with Braxton. Being a black man, it’s like you have to be invited outside. An Invitation To B

Thursday, December 23, 2021

Chronicle 175 ~An Invitation To B~

326 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? You were never one for the groomers. But my head feels better. Outside at least.

I tell you B inside it’s a Dead Man’s Party and everyone’s invited. Yeah, I know that look you’re giving me “leave your body at the door.” We should have talked way sooner than this. You know if I plan on going to the movies tonight. Somewhere inviting me back. Isn’t it like Emergence Day? The only people wishing me well are people that want my money. Speaking of which, hasn’t my wallet been pretty open as of late? I tried talking to Capital A. She’s back on GoFundMe, and I tried B III. I was fucking shameless. Boy, I cried. Nope, not out my eyes, and I’m still a monk. I wish I wasn’t. I wish you were here, B. Locked in your room.

Besides you being punished or my private shower time… Oh, let’s not forget the Day Job and doing things to keep us alive. There were no doors between us. Yes, as I said, I went to the occasional movie. This will be my first since the pandemic hit. Another first. Braxton, I keep track of them all. Even if I got you one of those lovely red vests, I doubt you’d keep it together for a movie. When it comes to my life, though, you are always invited. I guess I didn’t know how boring I was. Your Aunt Carolina could come by B. Do you remember when she wasn’t invited until she allowed you to sniff her up? Well, more like feeling her up.

You are your father’s son. No one would think about inviting a perverted would-be psychopath. Fighting Bipolar disorder, Anxiety, Depression, and OCD. A medical degree? I don’t have one. And even if I did, I doubt your grandma would invite me “home.” Oh, and your granddad? B, ain’t enough cash, so I see Capital A’s point. And home, um, oh? The last time I ever thought of home was when I sent you away? Before, it was when I got cut off from the Olds, but I was called to collect you, and we found ourselves here B III ha. Is that my way of once again inviting you back for Christmas? Everyone Says Hi, well me. To live, to love. An Invitation To B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 172 ~Loyalty Is Choice Not Demand~

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As the song goes, “I choose me, and I know that’s selfish love.” Not today. The Day Job calls, I won’t be choosing me. I show “loyalty” to my Olds. Otherwise, I’m on the street. My country, oh God, Then there’s my son. “Loyalty Is Choice Not Demand.”

Monday, December 20, 2021

Chronicle 172 ~Loyalty Is Choice Not Demand~

Two-Hundred and Nineteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, meaning I’m loyal to the almighty dollar. Negan said, “people are a resource.” King Ezekiel had morals.

For right now, today, hell about 15 years and 323 days, my loyalty is always to Braxton. My longing, my love, my life to my child. How many times have I sobbed since 7:00 am? He’s the reason I’m not out helping the local economy. Did I say “local?” Supercuts is a corporation. Um, I need a haircut, but it’s all, Baby, It’s Cold Outside. Oh, it’s my tears, yup. I’m not sad over my country or frothing at the mouth. At this rate, I want to be all Mr. Clark and say this place deserves what it gets. All I need to do is stay black and die. That’s what I’m doing today. I took a shower, planned on getting out, then boom Christmas.

B’s Aunt didn’t mean it. Madam, it’s a standard question for this time of the year. What do you want for Christmas? I want what I’ve wanted for 323 Days. I want my son back. It’s not like anything would be better with the rest of my life, but I’d have him. B is enough. I believe Cherry was into magic a bit but not Necromancy. So short of my Braxton, there was one of those tripods with the ring light. A laptop desk? Thought I wanted out of bed? Everything I want is to keep me right here. Braxton’s Cuddle Clone, watching over me. Then again, I wouldn’t want him to see me do things I do in life. My “loyalty” lasted 161 Days.

My mourning, mutism, my monkhood. But Madam, when I say always and forever, I mean it. Let Special K or Capital A ask for my help. I’d be there for them. That’s me, all me. Haven’t I talked about this once? I use what I call The Blackjack Scale. 21 means I’d die for you; Braxton was/is the only 21. I can’t go asking his Aunt for bullets now. I’d freak her out. For real, I could use the ammunition with everything. America, America. Loyalty to myself, you ask? Hell Madam, my body demands. I’d say besides my Masochism in my grief. My Sadism. Sprinkle in Hedonism to boot. “No Gods or Kings, only Man” Bioshock. Now Braxton’s loyalty… unquestionable. Loyalty Is Choice, Not Demand.


323 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 168 ~Take A Breath Braxton~

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If I could’ve, I would’ve held my breath forever the moment B took his last. The will to live, yup. It was strong with him, too, if I hadn’t stopped it. That’s the problem. People telling me what I don’t want to hear, but B. Take A Breath Braxton, um

Thursday, December 16, 2021

Chronicle 168 ~Take A Breath Braxton~

319 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I know it’s late… 6:30 PM but you should look in on your Grandma, B.

It’s her birthday, B III, and you’ll have more of a chance to see her than me. Well, I’m being a selfish asshole, aren’t I? My interactions with her today equate to two beeps. Sending her a text and getting one back. Another reason dogs were given paws, not fingers. Braxton, I can also say this is why you were given barks, not words. I have heard talking dogs. But no matter you were the best B, always and forever. Um, you would make too much goddamn sense if you had words. Pardon my language, Day Job, and well… Humiliations Galore again. So yeah, I stuffed my face and took a nap. But do I want to talk about it, B III? How about no.

Oh, gasp, shocker, relax B. You did what my Olds couldn’t do for years. If I ever talked to them about my day? I wanted to stop breathing. You know what I mean. There was that time I didn’t eat and fell out on the floor, and you went and got them. Keep me breathing. That’s what you did, B III. You kept me breathing even when I didn’t want to. It’s getting harder to do these days. Yeah, without my tunes, I have too much time to think. Hell, for a while, I had an earworm to that song “Fly Me To The Moon.” You liked my singing B. “Now I didn’t say that,” you’d give me that look. Again allow my selfishness B.

If you had one more breath to give, I’d ask you, spend it with me and not your grandma. When I had those arguments in my head at the Day Job, I wanted to say this. “At least when my son makes a noise, he’s helping me out. You can shut the fuck up!” Language, I know B III. I’m sorry. Anger is more useful than despair, I heard somewhere. The lady in Shoes was dicking around with me today. Pitying me by giving me a Christmas card. Worse, she was “proselytizing.” It took me some time to find that word. Anyway, between that and The Christmas Nanny, Tess being all alone. Yeah, B III if you can get here somehow. Take A Breath Braxton.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 165 ~Obedience Comes Easier Than Breathing~

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Not to get all racial or woke, but I’m the black workhorse at my Day Job, um mule. My manager is black, but the CEO is a white lady. So when’s the last time I made a real choice? Only me? Braxton’s death? “Obedience Comes Easier Than Breathing.”

Monday, December 13, 2021

Chronicle 165 ~Obedience Comes Easier Than Breathing~

Two-Hundred and Eighteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I answer to no one. Well, shareholders, if I’m in business. But to be God…

I’m a BELIEVER… NOT. Only I know why men made God in their own image and not vice versa. A white man, giving brown people orders. The same guy, trying to save the Jewish people from themselves. And who takes credit for everything. America, America. Hell, thinking is hard work. This is why most people tend not to do it. A long time ago (a couple of weeks), I didn’t. I could pump my ears full of music or listen to people speak of imaginary worlds. Obeying my “superiors” was easy. Without this J? RAGE!!! Every day I become more and more of a Republican. Not in ideology but in practice. When you disagree… it feels like dying or killing.

Dangerous words, I know, Madam. Now Braxton was the best boss I ever had. “Then you’ll find your servant is your master,” as the song goes. I swear I became a savant of his doggie language. A soldier, faithful and loyal. A sling, carrying him around, my son B III. When he stopped breathing, I swear I stopped too. Who was in charge? It’s like that episode of The Twilight Zone circa 2002 “The Path.” Braxton could read me, and through him AHEM, “I believe I can see the future.” I did what was needed to keep us going, J. Now what’s left to me now is the breathing, and you know how I am about that most days. I don’t want to, I’m afraid to, it hurts a lot.

But I’m in charge. Stupid me beats out my manager, managing Olds, pairs of mammaries. We, of course, know that’s a lie because I’ll be going back to my Day Job at some point, Madam. If anything, I must obey my Olds, or I’m homeless a loser at thirty-seven, Madam. Mammaries, Yabbos, Tits, you ask me why I’m sitting here naked planning on working on my Stuff And Thangs today. Did I, honest to God, believe; I was going to be an OnlyFans star? Nope but that’s what I get for listening to one head instead of the other, Madam. Once I read everything is about sex, but sex is about power. Our ultimate obedience is to power, not life. Obedience Comes Easier Than Breathing

316 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 161 ~Days Ending With B~

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Bad days aren’t going anywhere, and I fooled myself into believing neither was B III. He was always here. No, he is here if you listen to me say goodbye and hello every time I walk in the house. Every day, those Days Ending With B

Thursday, December 9, 2021

Chronicle 161 ~Days Ending With B~

312 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? There would be no fries today, but I could have brought you breakfast. Whataburger chicken?

Breakfast is what I was most looking forward to B III. We aren’t big breakfast guys. I don’t want to get sick at the Day Job, and you would be all “Now My Watch Begins.” Then again, “Pancake” was your nickname. I bought the good bacon and sausage for you. But the “Boys In Blue?” Talk about paranoia B, and I would if you were here. You are here. I keep having to remind myself of that. Then I would keep myself out of trouble. I’m trying B, yup. But the boss man leaves, a call to the office, I swear a cashier said, COP. If anything, I only want to go on my terms. Braxton, my little boy, that choice was made for you.

Blinding myself with tears, I’m sorry. It’s another thing that happens every day, no matter what. This would be twice today. Yesterday I was talking about how I can never stay awake. If I take an afternoon nap, I look to your corner, Braxton, as soon as I wake up. I should be spending bucks on a Cuddle Clone, a tattoo, a chain. I spend it on boobs, Yabbos, and a lack of UK titties. I don’t sleep nude; usually, I told Cherry. Again where’s all my money going? Anyway, I only have to survive another half-day, Braxton, then it’s us. “Whatever, Daddy.” I can hear you now. You’d huff or bark, knowing again I would be sleeping or writing the days away. But together

Being father and son, brothers, best friends. How I miss those days B III. I wish I could remember them more, and it’s not like I’m forgetting. I can’t focus on the Day Job anymore while other people break the rules. I’m getting why you barked at everyone. My world. Breathing in it, though, is getting harder by the day. 312 to be specific. Today I was laying out your treat and realized there are so few left. They might not last another week. I should start another tribute. A picture frame, one for each week. 52 is a lot. Hell, I pay Cherry, order B-dubs, visit PetSmart once a week B. And I love you every day ending in Y. Days Ending With B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 158 ~Wars Aren’t Fair; They’re Won~

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Pick up your cross peace is found at the lance’s point. Pens are mightier than swords. All I want is to carry my son. A season of peace, but I hate Christmas, like the dude in Succubus Christmas Special. I’ll behave, but Wars Aren’t Fair; They’re Won

Monday, December 6, 2021

Chronicle 158 ~Wars Aren’t Fair; They’re Won~

Two-Hundred and Seventeenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and that counts as winning. You don’t get “better” than that, as far as I can see.

To be honest, today, I don’t feel like fighting anymore. One more reason I had Braxton. A son shouldn’t fight his father’s battles, but how often will I say this? I’m out for the count, and there he is, watching over me. Braxton’s protection. A toy dog? Toy Soldier. Madam, I’m not wise. So they say, um, grief is love with no place to go. Oh, ok, true enough. The same can be said with rage. My rage is justice that can never be served, but it stays, Madam. I feel like fucking Oceania. That might be a decent stripper name, but I don’t mean it like that. It’s more like George Orwell’s “1984.” The war inside myself is continuous, and I didn’t even start this shit. It’s not fair.

All’s fair in love and war, and I don’t want either. At least I don’t want to be alone, J. As the song goes, “before you start a war, you better know what you’re fighting for.” Again “don’t put your blame on me.” I’m sick of it, and yet I stay. There’s nothing else, Madam. So why not try winning? If anything, why not try fighting at all? Today’s example… Madam, when I was “young,” and of course you know this tale, but I was in the navy a bit. I thought I would find my manhood somehow with serving. Three weeks later… Sigh. Anyway, today, a coworker busted her lip after slipping on the floor. And me being a gentleman… Gotcha, I stayed put.

A good man would have helped her. A brave man wouldn’t have spent all day hiding as the womenfolk went rushing into the rain. After a decade of wasting his life, a real man would be running that place. Yes, I’m fighting a war, Madam, against grief, rage, and fear. Going all Yoda on your ass? Ass, I’ll behave, Madam, Nineteen Days, Cherry, Carolina Bound might be pissed. So here I am, my enemies are known, in a war I never asked for. And if you told me I could stop fighting? Thirty-seven years and at least I ain’t dead. 309 Days without my son, brother-in-arms, and tireless defender. To accept that I can win this without Braxton… UNACCEPTABLE. But Wars Aren’t Fair; They’re Won.

309 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 154 ~From B’s To Effs~

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No one is above the law… Well, white guys with lots of money. Or an asshole who likes to wear earphones. A chick, having full-blown conversations on the phone while on the clock. But anything that brings me peace? Air pods? From B’s To Effs

Thursday, December 2, 2021

Chronicle 154 ~From B’s To Effs~

305 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? My day was effed up with a capital F. The worst day of my life?

Of course not, B. Always and Forever, I love you like pancakes, but your last day, Sunday, January 31, 2021, is my worst. I still use that day as the bar. If I survived that day, then today was nothing. It’s how I know I’m not suicidal. Well, I’m always a little, but I’m still breathing. That leads me to Emergence Day, which is a step down from your death. Me being given life. In the words of Captain Deladier (Starship Troopers). “Someone made a BIG goddamn mistake!” My Olds. But isn’t today supposed to be about you and me, Braxton? If it were more about you back then… Anyway, like yesterday I have ten more for the Humiliations Galore.

  1. Paranoia, um, the boss got called into the office. Oh no, it’s the cops, but it wasn’t B III
  2. Paranoia, I thought I got bit by a spider. It would serve me right.
  3. Remember all those rules the Manager went over yesterday. Yeah, only apply to me.
  4. Then she went over the same rules as other people broke them. That bitch
  5. I had to hear about my ineptitude twice today fucking crappy praise from supervisors
  6. I couldn’t point out garbage bags. But after all, your daddy is a waste
  7. I couldn’t help a customer find a Hallmark ornament
  8. Here’s a big one, lying about being pissed about #3 through #5
  9. Used the restroom at the Day Job, so I’m pretty grody. No shower after, room’s gross
  10. I got a KAREN at work today over some shoes. What’s My Age Again?

So what would be your advice Little B? First off, stop doing things that will get me arrested and fired so I’d end up leaving you. I’m not a white man with money. Again rules apply to me and no one else. Take a damn shower so I can cuddle you. I did get McDonald’s today, so you would have never forgiven me for showering first. Tell the damn truth. You would use silence to lie B, like father like son. It’s sad though, I say your name to avoid cursing my entire life. But honestly, B III, eff my life. From B’s To Effs

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 151 ~Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men~

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Docs have diagnosed me with plenty over 37 years. Social Anxiety, Bipolar Depression, Astigmatism (eyes in my head). Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder sigh. The Day Job takes advantage and how I keep a specific collection. Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men

Monday, November 29, 2021

Chronicle 151 ~Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men~

Two-Hundred And Sixteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, but as the song goes, “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” But today, “It Is Finished.”

Can I be any more profane, offensive, or STUPID? That’s how I feel about today, J. Can’t I be positive for one whole minute? If I weren’t suffering from a massive case of blue balls at the moment but we’ll get to that. First things first, I’m not lying to NaNoWriMo. That’s right, Madam, for the fifth time, according to the good people at NaNoWriMo, I have completed my 50,000 words. This is the part of the story where I would pick Braxton up and dance. Of course, we’ll get to that too. Right now, my legs are twisted pretzel-like. So I finished “Behave In A Cherry Patch,” so as NaNoWriMo says, Now What? I want all the fucking badges. I can’t stand it, Madam.

Apologies for the language, but I was obsessed with writing my novel and every badge Madam. Come December 1st, I’ll never think about it again until Camp NaNoWriMo. I’ve finished three this year, two camps, and November without my boy. Um, today there was Cherry. Hell, even before her, there was Ariella Ferrera, Yuffie Kisaragi, to say the least. How many times have I wished I could be a regular guy that watches porn? No, I’m one for intimacy, meaning I need everything. Do I need to go over the list again of frightened women? Money though? Every CEO, billionaire, Mafia Don. Whatever money man gets the women in the novels I read. Or a beard and/or a motorcycle. I’m in on some particular Yabbos.

But at least for now, my grief is richer. My promise, my vow to B III. 11 Days right now. It’s been 302 Days without Braxton, though. I believe before, and then when he died, I went 161 Days. B give me strength that I don’t give in to temptation and since I’m done, Madam. Braxton is my obsession. But when he was alive, though, I became indifferent. Obsession leads to trouble, Madam. And it seems, for the most part, my obsession is my own pain. As another song goes, I’m just a sucker for pain. Yeah, fuck you, Hemingway, for dinging the word “just” and the name Grammarly. Oh, there’s the $139.00 you took, Grammarly dammit. Stories, Boobies, Doggies. Obsessed Men Are Dangerous Men.

302 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 147 ~Forgetting A’s Yeah B~

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This was my son’s “Christmas.” Sure he would get a large fry for himself on birthdays. His aunt baked him a cake. He’d get half my fries when I stopped for fast food. Today though, he’d get to see Grandma and, of course, turkey. Forgetting A’s Yeah B

Thursday, November 25, 2021

Chronicle 147 ~Forgetting A’s Yeah B~

298 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? If “Only Gone From Your Sight” is to be believed, nothing I do tops wherever…

Only I ask that you allow me to try. Now we never did the holidays though you stuffed your face full of fries on many birthdays. There was also the time your Aunt Carolina “baked” you a cake. And let’s not talk about my Emergence, but there was steak, Braxton. Anyway, today is your Christmas or, instead, Happy Turkey Day. Can you tell that I’m trying to remember all the good times? The way you would dance around. And B, if you’re a good boy, pretty lucky one, grandma would pat your head. Thanksgiving dinner. Braxton, this isn’t me being a smartass, but you do remember last year? She brought a whole turkey… You were here to share it with.

Speaking of sharing, you know it’s my routine to share my sins on Wednesday. I did plenty, but I’m talking to you a bit earlier, not by much. You know about this time with NaNo season, I’m deep into my writing. There was the time ants invaded us one year. While I was working this afternoon, I found that I got 4,600 words down before 5:00 PM. So that’s good for me, right? You know what I’m doing half the time… But do you know why I got this done today? I didn’t stop to cry over you. Oh, I sobbed later, B as always. Braxton, it was like you weren’t on my mind at all. Language of the Heart, Only Gone From Your Sight.

It gets worse B III. Yesterday I spoke about things from my past. There are things I bought or did before you were ever here. I’ve been lugging one around with me all day. I feel as Ellie did some “Its light on the reading, but its got some interesting photos,” Um, yes and no. English Visual Novels B III. We would lie right where I’m sitting now, and I would read all sorts of stuff. Of course, things like cough Virgin Roster cough I saved for when you went to bed or got in trouble. Finally, there was what concerned me before you died. I shouldn’t cough, and I should say you’re still alive. Right now, though, I’m hungry, and I can’t share with you. Forgetting A’s Yeah B

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 144 ~Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism~

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If I had known the moment I called B and he hopped in the car that this is how it would end? Hell, I do shit all the time knowing that it could come crashing down. Yet my guilt at all that I’ve done hasn’t stopped me… Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism

Monday, November 22, 2021

Chronicle 144 ~Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism~

Two-Hundred And Fifteenth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, and if I have learned anything from others. There’s no shame, guilt. No need for a conscience.

Mine died 295 Days ago. My soul, my serenity, my son. His Dark Materials put it best, my Dæmon. If I had any reason to stay in line, it was him and now? Well, why do you think I’m calling you so late. Every day I don’t leave this bed, um, every afternoon, I fail. I keep up with Braxton’s treats… what was it a day or so ago? I noticed I missed one. When I leave the house, I keep up the usual banter, and when I return. I’ve had tacos, two days. Hell, Madam, when I don’t bring fries back, I know that I’ve failed Braxton. Daily ritual. When I can’t keep it in my pants because I want to feel something “good.”

Fuck Aria Logan and Cherry, um yes, please if again you’re wondering where I’ve been. Satisfaction? Nope, guilt kept me from coming. It’s the guilt that keeps me from going. Back to bed, that is. Only again, I’m sitting right here knowing I won’t get a wink tonight. Not if I don’t tell you all these horrible things in my life. Losing Braxton, always first. There’s also my nighttime ritual of lying to NaNoWriMo about my progress in writing. What about the Day Job I hate? And yet feel like I failed them, and by God, I did once again. It’s the guilt. I am guilty. And if I told you all my secrets… “First, let me explain that I’m just a black man,” yep.

While I’m busy ripping off songs, “I’m only human after all. Don’t put your blame on me.” While I was reading this evening from “Only Gone From Your Sight.” Jack/Kate says, “stop identifying yourself as my victim.” When it comes to B III, I never have. What do I see? The killer in the mirror, staring back at me. B III is the worst thing I ever got away with. Take your pick with the things that could cost me everything. He’s the one life, the crime everybody goes “meh.” Braxton’s body wasn’t even cold. Father “Get a new dog.” Fucking asshole, and I feel guilty saying that. I say guilt controls and yet my crimes. Braxton is still dead. Guilt Is A Controlling Mechanism

I believe in consequences.

No, you believe in guilt.

Maybe. But guilt before we act is called morality.
“Liberal Arts“

295 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will