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Chronicle 202 ~Breathe In, B Out~

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I’ve breathed in worse than the Day Job bathroom. The germs of 99.9 of people I know. B’s aunt is an exception. Mourning her family’s loss of their beloved Dobby. Sometimes I wish I could stop altogether, but B’s favorite game. Breathe In, B Out

Wednesday, January 19, 2022

Chronicle 202 ~Breathe In, B Out~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, I always say. Today (Sunday), ahem, when it rains, it pours. My condolences to Carolina’s, Dobby.

I know, I’ve talked about “The Long Walk” before. Not the book so much as the concept. Sorry, Stephen King. Sorry, Aunt Carolina. How about sorry to the veterinarians? B? Should I include you as well, Echo? As I’m sure, I’ve told this story. Hmm. We’ll work up to B III. I don’t know how old I was, but it was on an Emergence Day. In the cartoon Beetlejuice, there’s this character that goes, “What in tarhooties?” Only I said, “What in the Hell?” Next thing I know, I’m being pulled outside, but what was the worst part, Inspector? Breathe in, breathe out, and what? It damn sure ain’t living. I haven’t lived for… since losing Braxton; 353 Days when you see this Inspector Echo.

The death of a child. Honest Echo, I should have died with that Emergence, Inspector. Every day, stepping into school and it’s what I wish. I’m no killer. Somehow inevitable. Only the one I killed was in this house. B III called it his home. I’m worse than my Olds. And forgive my Republican tendencies once again, but going out is like a Death March. You know how I talk about the restrooms at the Day Job and how I can’t breathe in the stench. The whole damn place is like that. I can’t breathe, and then I beg to get out. Then, of course, I whine about being let back in. One of Braxton’s favorite games. The look on his face before the diagnosis.

Breathe in, breathe out. I know B was doing this. Because as I’ve been reading and as the song goes. Listen To Your Heart. Braxton told me, “Daddy, let’s go home.” If anything, I speak fluent Braxton. If I had only listened before, but no. Always breathe in, breathe out. It was my life, put one fucking foot in front of the other for those bastards at the Day Job. We were struggling to breathe but sitting together, laying together. The air up there B? Is it better, not as you need it. I don’t know how I keep doing it. I was a zombie. And no matter the horrors slurred, spitted, are shat I walk, I breathe. I killed Braxton. Breathe In, B Out.

Gospel 202 ~Sell You On Will~

353 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 201 ~A Paw From B~

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Let’s hear it for the boy; let’s give that boy a hand. I didn’t do that enough when B was alive and when it mattered, with these hands, yeah with these hands. I don’t need applause, as all he clapping in the world won’t bring him back. “A Paw From B”

Tuesday, January 18, 2022

Chronicle 201 ~A Paw From B~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but how did I do it. As the song goes, “with these hands, with these hands.”

It’s what I want to sing; it’s what I want to believe. I see hands clasped together praying. THEY say it’s in God’s hands. Into thy hands, I commit my spirit. Getting out of hand. You know I could go on like this for a while. And could go with touching you, my love, um. Is, always and forever outside of the realm of possibility? I wouldn’t blame Jesus, love. Believer? I continue to go back and forth. Yet I ask where his hand in all of this was, hmm? If I don’t give him, her, or It any of the blame, I’m not handing out credit either. But you? Baby girl, how long has it been since I asked for your hand? Just kidding.

A husband is in dangerous territory, not knowing that. The fact is I asked, and you gave. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t reached out and found you. And with our hands, together, you and I created… God, I count ten little fingers and ten little toes.

For the second time in my life, the third, fourth, even more. Feet don’t freak me out. Darling the first? Yeah, the first had me on the ground feeling the pavement and counting ten seconds. I had to make sure it was safe for my firstborn to walk. Again, while I go back and forth. The first had my hands clasped together, me on my knees praying. My hands couldn’t save Braxton. But his paws?

“Pa, father, Daddy, wake up,” B would say by stepping all over my head. And you wonder why when I take the kids to see the fur babies, my big concern is paws and nails. Pausing my life to know before you and them when there was no hand to hold. How they say, I found a paw Gospel 201 Legs, Breasts, There’s Always Chicken. B and me until the? Paws stopped moving; my Braxton left this world 352 Days ago. I look to my hands that signed the papers. My tears have surpassed all those days. Even last night, they found me I need that. Yet you say I Want To Hold Your Hand. I love you. Taught because of, A Paw From B

Gospel 201 ~Legs, Breasts, There’s Always Chicken~

352 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 195 ~B A Head Taller~

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I wish I was a little bit taller. I wish I had wings. Hell, I should start playing “Far Cry 5” with that grappling hook instead of having dangerous thoughts. Quite painful, but I’m alive if I’m searching for tortilla chips. B A Head Taller.

Wednesday, January 12, 2022

Chronicle 195 ~B A Head Taller~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I’m sure I could afford lifts, one of those grab tools, people, my Braxton, right…

Today is Sunday (Time-Travel), but what happened was on Saturday. I talked about having an epiphany, a revelation. I won’t go all into that. Better you could ask my man in the mirror, Chronicle 192 ~B A Man Of… Gospel 195 Nobody But Will’s Wife. Inspector, that’s what I’ve been doing these days. Reminiscing? No, that’s the wrong word. Reaching out for answers. And I want to say there is none, then Inspector, there’s truth. Anyway, let me start with Saturday at Walmart. My Ma made some Queso dip, and surprise, I’m out of chips. I ate hers, snacking. So the chips I want are on this high shelf. There are people. I can ignore the chips or reach and risk humiliating myself and so…

A person will choose physical harm to avoid mental anguish. I chose my mind over my body. I reached those damn chips because I didn’t want to know the shame of my failure. They’re all gonna laugh at you, but nobody did because I succeeded. But it hurt like Hell. Humiliations galore rule at the Day Job, but I continue to hurt myself there, Inspector. Dammit, I’m so tired this second, but I refuse any napping because of my mind Inspector. Physical pleasures Echo? I’m going out of my mind. Only let my flesh suffer, Inspector. Then there’s death. Ok, dangerous words always. Unhealthy grief? I’ve had 346 Days of it. I’m surprised I haven’t drowned in it. Between refilling Braxton’s water bowl. My tears, several releases, but no blood.

That leads me back into the mental or the physical. Again, every day I refill his water. I place his treats on the table. Echo, that’s what I hear my voice do when I call him for meds. When I tell him hello and goodbye. I set up his gates, move his bed, everything. I put myself through the physical task to avoid the humiliating truth. I failed Braxton. Fuck me, don’t sugarcoat it; I killed B III. My son, my best friend, is dead because of me, Echo. That is my failure and my disgrace, and I wish I had fallen from that damn shelf for chips. Let me drown in wasted water. Never do Onlyfans again. To die, I’d B A Head Taller.

346 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 194 ~Love B Hard Sometimes~

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You give out hope like it’s candy in your pocket. Well, no, I could give you the meaning of life pretty easily. The concept of love? Now that’s something you don’t keep in your pocket. B gives it out always. But for 345 Days. “Love B Hard Sometimes.”

Tuesday, January 11, 2022

Chronicle 194 ~Love B Hard Sometimes~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, more like we are, and thank goodness. Love to my Olds is not being thrown out.

I swear that’s why I stay away from them. Being who I am, being me, well, that’s subject to debate. How do “THEY,” say, you’re lucky I love you? Because I don’t like you not one little bit. Speaking of a little bit, of course, you know I will talk about my B III. Braxton taught me all about love. Well, B III and Chris Rock. Defining what love is? Always ahem the want, need, desire, to put another above oneself. That’s why I’ve never agreed that you need to love yourself to love another. Of course, I would love to love me. One more reason I stay far from my Olds. I grew up to this. I was a duty, obligation, a hated job.

Thirty-seven right? Love is like books and writing to me. It’s a thirst, My Love. They have that word right and wrong. I want more; oh God, help me, and not only boobs, um yep. Hell, look at Braxton? He didn’t have any boobs even though he wanted to claim his aunt’s. But from the moment I laid eyes on him… Talk about we found love in a hopeless place. My life became that of his, loving myself to love him from that moment. Now some way, that’s what killed him as well. It was my indifference when love itself became routine. I have it wrong… it’s not love being hard; it was life. At the same time, my obsession led to his passing away.

You’re the first woman, My Love, that didn’t find my obsession; oh, what’s the words? Creepy, stalkerish, perverted, the list goes on. I don’t love pizza because I don’t know everything about it. I don’t love my phone… Would I die for it? Obsession, knowledge. People say they love, but how much do they know? Unconditional love, as in without condition, you have to know everything. You and Braxton know everything of what I am. And that’s why love is hard sometimes. It’s learning, it’s understanding, it’s growing. We learn about our children; we learn about each other. And to realize that my child, my firstborn, is dying and love, every want, need, and desire can’t save him. What Is Love? Love B Hard Sometimes

345 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 187 ~Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye B~

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It was only a kiss, yet I’d argue with B every morning. I know where his mouth has been. He didn’t seem to mind when I would kiss the top of his head. But he must have thought humans are weird. Well, kissing shuts humans up. “Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye B”

Tuesday, January 4, 2022

Chronicle 187 ~Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye B~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, well, more like we are. Only mouths are better for other things. A kiss, Baby Girl.

You know I am some kinda way about my Olds, but if I remember anything good. Well, it was the fact that they always kissed each other goodbye before departing. An idea I’m hoping to continue with you despite what’s going on with me. Right now, it’s B, My Love. A New Year’s Kiss. Excuse me for being crass, well no, because I know you instead like me this way. Anyway, if I’m going to be kissing something HAIRY. It would be the top of B’s head. That’s another first; I couldn’t do that this year and never again. Tomorrow? Baby Doll, I keep thinking that. Denial is not just a river in Egypt. 338 Days of him not sitting on my head, My Love.

Sure, you sitting on my face is great and all. As I said, it’s been a while, and you know your man. If I wanted to get in trouble with you, why don’t you ask if I remember our first kiss? Don’t ever want to experience our last kiss. Now Braxton’s… Sunday, January 31, 2021. My firstborn got me more than prepared for our children crawling all over us. Death by kisses “What A Heavenly Way To Die” My Love. A thousand sweet kisses, “I’ll Cover You,” and our family. Yeah, I know Spotify again, remembering days, fucking Day Job. As I said, there are such things we can do with our mouths. Singing, hell, I should try again before saying something STUPID. But B…

Looks like crying every day over B isn’t changing in this new year. When I had to talk to the vet. And I gave her permission. Talking to a woman, and that’s what I do. Asshole! Braxton saw me as such, or was I still only his Daddy who wouldn’t take him home. The man that was going to let the vet and her assistant do these things. Explain Daddy, right? All I could do was hold him and kiss the top of his furry little head. I love you, I’m sorry, goodbye? If a kiss is good for anything, it shuts me up. It stops us from thinking love. Ha thinking before like Gospel 187 ~Panic Does Not Serve You~. Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye B

Gospel 187 ~Panic Does Not Serve You~

338 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 180 ~A Year To B~

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15, B would have been 16. I made it to 37, and I’ll be 38, 39, 40, oh no? The eighties suck, and people talk a lot about 2020, but 2021 was the worst year of my life. How I survived without my boy. And do you see any family around here? “A Year To B”

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Chronicle 180 ~A Year To B~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so what else is there to look forward to? My indifference is what got Braxton killed.

The man that has everything but his best friend… As long as Braxton’s been gone and as long as we’ve been together. “Oh, baby, I love you, just leave me the fuck alone,” as the song plays. Which you did, considering what time I woke up this morning. Fucking up? Baby Doll, I know I am, even worse than the plague year. I went back over Gospel 177 ~It’s Christmas, Willie B~ last year at Christmas. To think we could survive the pandemic but this? This year has been the worse of my entire life. Beating out the eighties, wow. Baby girl, of course, that has nothing to do with you. You’ve been here, but as for me. Hell, I’m still stuck in seven days.

A year to a dog is seven years, or so THEY guess. How many years does that make 331 Days? You know I suck at Math, Music, Making Love? When’s the last time Baby Doll? It’s four days until the new year, and I don’t know where to begin. I’ll be 38. That’s next E-Day. Will I see Braxton’s Aunt before the new year? I say I’m a billionaire, however… Yeah, I can’t hear B III. You’ve been trying, screaming, crying, you love me. Besides “Don’t Look Up,” there have been soundtracks. Just Look Up, Memento Mori, Fourth of July. Ironic, the Fourth of July, the noise. And the same will be heard for new year’s. Will you still be here for me, My Love?

I wouldn’t blame you. I’ve told you the tale of how I was planning on taking my own life years ago. I say planning because I was only starving myself. Braxton saved my life, and I knew he needed me, so I would always say, I’ll be back. Fucking Terminator. Anyway, I made you the same promise, Always and Forever. With all the family that turned their backs on me, why would I ever want to be them? Yet this whole year with Braxton being gone. Sunday, January 31, 2021. It’s been all him. Come the first, I have no resolutions as yet. I’m not going anywhere, neither is B, but how about you. A year of beginnings, books, baby, brats, A Year To B.

331 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

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-ImCpNqbJw

325 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 173 ~This Christmas Will B~

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My “father” told me I’ve had a “White Christmas” here or there. I’m too old to remember. And a “Blue Christmas” doesn’t seem to cut it. I’m sure B is somewhere barking, “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” If only in my dreams, right? This Christmas Will B

Tuesday, December 21, 2021

Chronicle 173 ~This Christmas Will B~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I could take Santa’s job. Well, that’s sort of the thing being a Daddy.

Do you think the kids know yet? When I discovered the whole Santa Claus, Jesus, and Olds conspiracy? I was older than I’d like to admit. To be honest, all of 2021, I’ve felt older and younger than I’d like. A boy, crying over B III. A man trying to be “strong?” Uh Nah. I’m sure the kids would be happier not waiting for Santa but for their Daddy to come home. There’s a reason I, well we don’t go “home” for the holidays. My Ma invited me home once, and I asked whether Braxton could come too. She never asked again. Christmas with Braxton. Sometimes it scares me to know how much our kids are like me. To be like you. A Christmas Wish?

Every day Christmas gets closer, I still think about what I want most of all. You know, of course. My friends know, and there is nothing anyone can do. Um, if this was Futurama? I could say I want nothing. With everything, I have, no what we have. What do you give the man that has everything? I wouldn’t be a proper billionaire if I didn’t want more, ha. Then once more, I could ask what you and our kids want? Christmas is supposed to be a time for miracles. Yet to this day, I still live by this. My desires, Impossible, Insane, Illegal. Why do we save it for Christmas? Braxton has been gone 324 Days. Not one passes that I don’t need him.

I’ve had a White Christmas and ones without snow. As the song goes, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” I’m sure our children would say, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” How about a Christmas without me using Spotify? My Olds had a sound system. Speaking of tradition, I’ll be in here reading my Christmas Erotica alone. Want to come? I’m sure I’ll invite the children to watch Santa’s path on the computer. Pretty awesome. Will you cook up a brunch as my Ma does? Um, I don’t know if she does now, but ok. The thing is, “this Christmas will be a very special Christmas?” It will be different, that’s for sure, but Santa never fails. The postman, Braxton, Love. This Christmas, Will B

324 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will