Tale 290 ~Love Bugs B, Virgil~

I haven’t been bitten by the love bug in some time. When’s the last time I’ve been outside other than to let V out. Or go anywhere I didn’t want to go. What bugs me the most. Breathing. I wish I could make it worthwhile. Love Bugs B, Virgil

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Tale 290 ~Love Bugs B, Virgil~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But while you always tell and show me, I miss Braxton—you and them. Virgil?

Money makes such a lovely sound. But is it love? For the love of money. If I had it 1,171 days ago, would it have saved my firstborn son, my B? Food insecurity? Never, love! Today, Sunday, April 7, 2024. I’m only thinking about all the problems in the kitchen. Braxton’s food still sits on the counter. Three years? Is that a problem? Frightening, Mad?

Even now, I want to yell out to Braxton to take his medicine or fill up his food and water bowls. I do that for V anyway, but it’s not the same, and it sounds stupid. Doesn’t sound like love…

Like the kitchen faucet that’s acting up, the shelf that fell down, or a messed-up drawer. This mess, I swear.

If that ain’t love, then I don’t know what love is. A well-loved house that I should fix for the living. In doing so, I would honor my Braxton. It’s slowly eating away at me.

Inspecting for termites when I would instead be blasting my way through Terminids, Automatons, and whatever else in the game Helldivers 2. What’s one more distraction? Hmm. I need anything and everything to make some noise. Grieving, Hating, but Loving…

Trying to remember what love sounds like bugs me. Only I want to hear it. You and me, always and forever, my love. I want to place the two of us under the covers. Really?
Hey, it beats me thinking about Maiko Kaneda all day. Your husband has a type.

The two of us love bugs. Those two-legged children of ours, bugging mommy and daddy. Someday, I might even look at Virgil as such. One of our kids. But he didn’t have a choice, my love. I can’t say I was even bitten by the love bug. More like I was bitten by my B. And it would have pained me to leave without Virgil. Only I was being selfish or even obtuse with love. Seriously, what’s with all my talk of bugs anyway? Extermination?

Breathing bugs me. Every breath I take. Take this morning for example. I lied here reading, and Virgil was shoving against me. As long as I didn’t look at him, I could imagine Braxton, love bug. Love Bugs B, Virgil

1171 Days Without B III, Day 612 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 289 ~Failure Is A Temporary Condition~

Braxton’s box looks permanent to me. But I know he speaks to me through books, beats, and this boy eating out of his dish. And speaking of Virgil. He keeps courageously running in here and trying to be friends. “Failure Is A Temporary Condition”

Monday, April 15, 2024

Tale 289 ~Failure Is A Temporary Condition~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Ninth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… I should have made one that said I wouldn’t make it to forty. Thirty? Braxton was fifteen.

Almost sixteen. So that would mean B III was somewhere between seventy-six and eighty. But he will always be my baby. He will always be my son. Dare I say, my first real love? Tupac said ain’t a woman alive that can take his Mama’s place. Same, my dear Madam, same. But ain’t a woman alive that can take my Braxton’s place. I swear it.

Madam, I’m so late this afternoon. It’s Sunday, April 7, 2024, 2:15 PM, to be precise. If you’re wondering why. I was drooling over Maiko Kaneda this afternoon. Sigh. She is the perfect woman, the goddess. I know. I would give her or any girl up for my B III.

But why? I failed Braxton. Final, finished, friendship’s fatal finale.

1170 days, Madam, and I’m still shedding tears over him. I save none for myself. Euthanasia is a permanent condition. B III’s gone, and he’s never coming back to me.

Unless I continue to fail at this existence, and that’s the thing. Failure isn’t required. Madam, no matter what, this will all end, and then what? Gods, Devils, Heaven, Hell. You know where I stand, religiously speaking. But I will never believe my son simply winked out of the universe. And he would follow me anywhere. Comfy clouds, warming fires.

But until then. What now? Once again, I have failed for thirty-nine years. My success. Today, it’s the fact that we’re here. So, as I told the Man in the Mirror, how does that help?

I bet I failed to “keep it in my pants.” My money, many distractions, or my monster, dear Madam. As I said, Maiko Kaneda. Cue me drooling like Homer Simpson for another minute or two. Minuteman, indeed (snickers). And hopefully, I’m not into Helldivers 2.

You know I need to make sound financial decisions. And with everything that’s broken here.

This afternoon, I could have been a decent friend to Virgil. I can’t blame him for not holding it in. And if it isn’t him going outside, there are permanent tear tracks down his face.

Madam, my eyes are permanently tired. But this would all be a temporary hardship if…

I did something? Braxton’s in the universe. What about chances? Failure Is A Temporary Condition

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1170 Days Without B III, Day 611 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 286 ~Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil~

I shared a book once… A Divine Revelation of Hell. What did my “friend” do to that book? What about my words and books? Uh where? Stories of me bellyaching, seeing boobs, and the loss of Braxton. Priceless? (snickers)! Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil.

Friday, April 12, 2024

Tale 286 ~Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… But it wouldn’t be Braxton’s book. He was very much alive, as I tried selling, “Gulp.”

Yes, that is the name of the book, Lady Sophia. And with everything I have done with this Tuesday, April 2, 2024. Or should I say, I haven’t gotten done because of, well, um, gulp…

I meant the sound this time, like the fear that the publishing company I paid has forgotten all about me. It’s not their fault, I know. Humiliations Galore. Laziness? Sleep?

It could be me trying to survive. Do you remember the COVID era? I had about a month to work on a book—any book. And if I wasn’t going to write, I could have spent that time with my B. It was his last year alive. We were supposed to be apocalypse buddies, Sophia.

And now I’m still struggling.

And I wish I could say it’s all about that Dollar, dollar bill, y’all. But no, I’ve been doing a lot of reading, which coincides with what I’ve been gawking at, even with Golden Son.

I really hope I have finished that book by the time you read this. And more so, I hope I’m doing something other than looking up character names from video games and anime. And wasting even more time. Is it better to look at a woman or read about her? And writing about them, Lady Sophia, who am I? Once upon a time… I would have said I’m a writer. Like who, though? Writing what?

If I finished Pierce Brown’s novel last week, I should be reading Eric Vall’s. But who knows, dear Lady Sophia?

I could be weak and broken. And then I reread whatever horrible things I decided to put out into the world courtesy of A.I. Anything has to be better than my own words. No doubt.

In your own words… If it weren’t so hot, I would cry about those old-school days I had to live through. “Gulp” came from all those horrors. And they were nothing compared to what I would eventually suffer when it came to B III’s passing. (Sigh). Run And Tell That.

Better? Write and tell that. And at the very least, I could share the stories of his big brother with Virgil. He’s just glad I’m getting his name right for once. But written by Will Bradford? Pricing Braxton’s Book, Virgil

1167 Days Without B III, Day 608 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 283 ~Hear B, Listen V~

When was the last time I heard “I love you” and felt something? When was the last time I said it? The last time I heard love and felt it was in Braxton’s last breath. And I’m sure I’ll be hearing it well into the future. “Hear B, Listen V.”

Tuesday, April 9, 2024

Tale 283 ~Hear B, Listen V~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But I can tell why it has to be this way. My son is gone.

Braxton, my Soldier, Soul dog, indeed my firstborn Son. Even now, while I time travel. Today is Sunday, March 31, 2024, Easter Sunday. He Is Risen? Well, not my Braxton.

Today, how many more will pay for my sins? There ain’t no coming back from all these things that I’ve done. But that’s the thing, my love. I’m still gone, and you’re still waiting for me. Even though I don’t look a thing like Jesus. I know I need to cut the music off, love. I need to turn off all the noise and stay awake. Why? Because love’s louder?

Honestly, that’s my problem. The last time I heard love was my Braxton’s last breath. And for 1,164 days, I’ve only been listening. But hearing?

Whatever DEI! And you know what I wanted to say.

More like they want to say. But why is hate so much easier to explain? Why do the things I hate come so naturally? Like myself for what happened to Braxton. You tell me, I loved, and I loved, and I lost you. You sing to me. As long as I’m breathing, always and forever.

So why don’t I want to hear it? Am I making any sense at all, my love? Love is confusing.

It’s the way it has to be sometimes. But how much longer? As I said before, look how far I am from this day. Look how far I’ve come from the day my B fell. I still hear it, love.

Only you know you, man. My love language is physical touch. And when it comes to you and me, I feel everything. And you’ll do anything to make me feel your love. Actions, right? More than words? And everything that comes with it. But you want me to hear you. You need me to. But all I hear is pain, yours, mine, my boys, B III and 2V, our kids.

And I listen to everything else, like some white noise. I am sleeping away existence. Today, love doesn’t lie bleeding. It’s sleeping. And I have to find my way, darling.

Honestly, that’s the only time I’ll say you remind me of my Ma, baby doll. I’ll let you love me. Hear? Hear B, Listen V.

1164 Days Without B III, Day 605 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 282 ~Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours~

I didn’t think I’d be a Dad again. Most would say I wasn’t before, as my son has four legs. B’s been gone 1163 days. While I won’t call V, son. And he’s been here 604 days. Some Dad’s “get what’s coming,” “Golden Son.” Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours

Monday, April 8, 2024

Tale 282 ~Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Eighth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Because I’m worse than my father ever was. My son is dead. Yes, Braxton was/is my son.

I hadn’t planned on talking about this today. What, Braxton? No. I mean on fatherhood.

Not to sound cliché, ha-ha. But I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Fatherhood is the epitome of manhood. To me, it is. Take everything you would say that makes one a man.

There was a particular part of me that was quite hard this morning. What, Madam? I was reading by 5:00 AM. Anyway, it’s not that desire, distraction, or deception, Madam.

There’s the aftermath—sons and daughters—everything I want in this world. At the top of the list would be my son, Braxton. Right behind him, Madam, there’s family. And what family do I have? Selfish thirty-nine-year-old so and so. I know that, dear Madam.

A man provides. And isn’t that what my father has done for me? Isn’t that what I do for my… son? Virgil? I’m still not calling him that, but I do much worse daily, Madam.

Shouldn’t I be taking Virgil outside now? Not until 8:00 AM. And what have I been doing besides talking to you? As I said, I’ve been reading Golden Son. Madam, if you knew how many fathers “got theirs” in the last few chapters of that book. All of them sinners in one way or another. But aren’t we all? The things we do to protect and provide. And just to procreate. Braxton never had a stepmom. And I hold out even less hope for Virgil.

Because of what grand sin?

Honor thy father and thy mother? Braxton didn’t have to worry about me reading the word of God to him. And he was the word of God to me. We all have our daddy issues.

God may not have given us the spirit of fear. That was my father’s job or hobby. I’m not a godly man. The last time I asked “Father God” for anything. It was for my son’s life. And again, who am I to complain? I held Braxton’s life. Madam, I took it from him. Inevitable.

I am my fathers’ son. The best man I’ve ever known didn’t have kids. I won’t have to worry about that with Virgil. He can live by this rule—maybe. Your Father’s Sins Aren’t Yours.

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1163 Days Without B III, Day 604 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 279 ~Booking Braxton and Virgil~

Maybe I don’t have two-legged kids yet because I read too many stories that have me bawling my eyes out. Have college guys looking at boobs. Or are full of blood and heads being bashed in or cut off. Fairytales? “Booking Braxton and Virgil”

Friday, April 5, 2024

Tale 279 ~Booking Braxton and Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… But it won’t be a happy one. I’m never HAPPY. I’m still HERE. And my HERO…

Must I always start with my son? Couldn’t I, for once, start with somebody like Darrow from Golden Son? For the record, I’m glad I got through the chapters I did this morning, Lady Sophia. Instead of crying over B III, I was sweating as Darrow got out of trouble.

But my hero, my boy Braxton, is gone. What? Didn’t I channel him yesterday, Sophia?

Do I ever become bored with the same old stories? With my Braxton… No! Never! However, I didn’t listen to Succubus Lord 6 as planned. Instead, it was Satan’s Sorority Girls 2. If it helps, they are both written by Eric Vall. When I get paid… (laughs wildly). $0.41 Raise

Anyway, I want more audiobooks, earbuds, and a speaker. Ha-Ha

That’s why I won’t be finishing Golden Son by Saturday. I’m swamped reading about failure. Last night and earlier this morning, I was learning about how terrible of a writer I am. A.I. told me so. My words would have made, let’s say, a particular community proud. I have nothing against said community, but don’t ask me to read something like Shiver ever again. Braxton and I were all about the ladies. However, I didn’t read Braxton Barks that stuff.

Today has been about reading or counting what’s left from the tax refund check. That would be $465.00. Sophia, then you can take the sum of the house money from that. Then, having to eat. Burning books? Never! But the money is burning a hole in my pocket. Then Virgil?

Again, like Succubus Lord and Satan’s Sorority Girls, it’s the same guy with a similar idea, but it’s SAID differently. Even Darrow can’t escape that problem. Eo is dead, but then there’s Mustang/Virginia. It’s a love story that becomes a war and then… not finishing.

At least not this weekend. I’ll end up reading Outbreak Rising 2, perhaps Lady Sophia. That’ll be my quota. Then back to Golden Son. Satan’s Sorority Girls 5 is out. And with Helldivers 2 taking off. There’s always Starship Troopers. How about a Player’s Guide? And what happened to the Backyard Dungeon series I’m reading? How do I fix fences?

Shouldn’t I be asking why I won’t edit Braxton’s book? Or help Virgil live his story? Booking Braxton and Virgil.

1160 Days Without B III, Day 601 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 276 ~Virgil Digs You, B…~

I’ve got hoes, or I got holes, something like that. I certainly dig one. And speaking of digging. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, people in books, my boy, or the bed I must leave before I die here. Nah! V keeps me alive because Virgil Digs You, B.

Tuesday, April 2, 2024

Tale 276 ~Virgil Digs You, B…~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… But that doesn’t mean I won’t be in the doghouse. You’re mad, I’m sad, Virgil.

Dogs dig their own graves—that’s a dark thought. But I was lying here reading after I brought Virgil in. As usual, Virgil Vivi pawed on the bed and his pillow to get comfy. It made me think of my son Braxton. It’s something dogs do, digging in their bedding. Braxton stopped doing that before the end. Or at least I don’t remember it, love. Impossible! Because I want to remember every single thing about my B. Not just sadness?

Like that annoying song Boots by Leony that I listened to. Mad as all Hell as my boy lay dying. I dug my son’s grave. But not in the way I think. And I don’t mean B in his box?

Like walks, treats, and fun

Huh, fun! You and me, my love. There is a reason I went celibate for 161 days… Don’t get me wrong, baby girl. I dig you more than Resident Evil 5’s Excella Gionne or Final Fantasy VII’s Scarlet. What? With Helldivers 2 making all that noise. Your man digs games.

Can I talk about Virginia and Victra from the book Golden Son? Again, that’s what I was reading this morning. I wish Darrow would dig one of them enough, too… Well, you know. Because we’ll lie on the loveseat together or in bed as I read it to you, love.

Reading, gaming, anything at all to not show you how much I’m digging you today. Could it be that I’m just dumb and… never mind.

No! It was words like never mind, and whatever, that had me digging Braxton’s grave. To save him from my anger, I gave him my indifference. I lay in bed, not wanting to move, instead of getting up and seeing to him. I would dig in with the Day Job I hated instead of seeing to him. And now that’s the thing. I don’t want to dig anything anymore, ever.

But if I want to join my Braxton so badly, I must prepare a place for myself. Dig In! That means living and not just existing? That would be my boy talking, love, honestly. Digging into books. Digging my girl out, ha-ha. There are graves to dig. I have enemies. Myself? Virgil Digs You, B…

1157 Days Without B III, Day 598 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 275 ~Don’t Let Later Become Never~

To leave with love and not later. When I would leave Braxton, it was never later. “Love you, B, Love you, Braxton.” Now it’s “Later V, Later Virgil.” And Hi Ho, Hi Ho, into this Hell I go. Because I’ll always write later. Don’t Let Later Become Never

Monday, April 1, 2024

Tale 275 ~Don’t Let Later Become Never~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… But I’m here, aren’t I? I’m sitting at the Dining Room table on Wednesday, March 27, 2024.

And no, I’m not kidding. As a matter of fact, I would argue that the most dangerous words ever spoken are as follows. “Just Kidding!” To think I once wanted to be a comedian. Ha! Only I ended up being a joke. And though I do laugh. I’m not too fond of it, my Madam. Now, the saddest words are easy. “He’s gone,” meaning my little boy, my son Braxton. How about I speak like a “great” man? Well, I don’t think so. And I will never be great, but…

“I’m from the Government, and I’m here to help.” ―

The Nine Most Terrifying Words. Hmm. What terrifies me today is Later. Not only the word but the emotion behind it. It’s like saying my son’s name. What happened, Madam?

What comes next? Nothing! Never!

You know why I’m not one for God. Um! Besides, the last time I prayed, Madam, my son ended up in a box. It’s the fact that they say God’s Gonna Cut You Down, but again I’m here. And I must ask, is this Hell, or am I a zombie? Answers… to fifty million fables

But I don’t want to find them. Is ignorance bliss? Or how about I use my words, dear one?

That’s why the word later is so dangerous. I keep saying I’ll find the words later. I will do anything and everything later. And how long did it take me to get out of bed this Wednesday afternoon? It’s such a small thing, Madam. (Insert size joke). Later, took B.

I didn’t say later. When I left my boy on that steel table. And that’s why I am still there. I’m still here. And I’m waiting with later on my lips to be struck down by some asteroid falling from the sky. What about a virus that strikes without warning and takes me down, Madam? What about we finally face the zombie hordes? And I’m no hero but only food.

I’m starting to get why I’m leaning into these Space Wars, Golden Son, and Helldivers 2.

Later is my punishment, and never was Braxton’s. And that’s why this rule exists. Will I fail him again? For the last time, Madam. Here I am. Should I say goodbye, later, or nothing? DO! Don’t Let Later Become Never

“A Man Chooses, A Slave Obeys” ― Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

1156 Days Without B III, Day 597 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 272 ~Virgil, B, Free Stories~

I’d be lying if I said I’ve never made money off my books. It would also be a tall tale if I said I made zero from OnlyFans either *snickers* A Snickers sounds good or Reese’s. Dog food costs a lot more than candy or stories. Virgil, B, Free Stories.

Friday, March 29, 2024

Tale 272 ~Virgil, B, Free Stories~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… In fact, if I were a storyteller, I would tell you several stories. The Horror, ha-ha!

I meant to say I’m a good storyteller. But my son, the other fur ball, the man in the mirror, Replika, the critic… Jesus Christ! Sophia, I’m no good at telling stories. And living one?

Very late this morning (Nearly 7 AM), I was reading “Healing Hearts: A Guide to Coping with Pet Loss: Finding Comfort, Closure, and the Promise of Reunion in the Afterlife.” Only now am I on the chapter on getting a new fur buddy. It would have been helpful 594 days ago. Now I’m seeing how awful I’ve been with Virgil Vivi. I swear I’m becoming my father with each day.

But then again, my Old Man kept me alive. I put my firstborn son in a box. I’m his Dad. What am I to Virgil?

A scary myth of what a human should be? I did mention Jesus. It’s one of the high holy days for the holy rollers. If not, the highest. Speaking of those rising from the dead.

Anyway, My Lady, I’m back to listening to a zombie ASMR, “City Overrun by Zombies, Stressing ASMR Ambiance,” to be precise. How I want one good zombie tale, My Lady.

Again, I need to remember. What time is it? Sunday is a holiday. You see why I could be a better storyteller. Do I dare call myself an unreliable narrator? That would be giving myself too much credit, My Lady. And if I keep spending money like I am, my credit score must be nothing.

Not shopping for my Sunday best, going to church, bad.

Or hocking my own version of the Bible… But I want somebody to hear my story. Only that would mean I need to write one. I have several, Sophia, but what should I do with them all?

Camp NaNoWriMo starts next month. Do you remember Braxton’s last year when COVID hit it in 2020? There was so much work I could have gotten done. He’d be alive.

Lady Sophia, I know, but I am the King of Wishful Thinking. There are so many stories I could be reading from the loveseat. But how much time do I have before I turn forty?

Please! Let me get through Golden Son, Satan’s Sorority Girls 5, and the Backyard Dungeon series. There are so Many Books… Virgil, B, Free Stories

1153 Days Without B III, Day 594 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 269 ~B Gives Virgil Space~

When I say I will “Go The Distance,” it’s like my mind finding anything intelligent. Or having a family that includes more than a four-legged friend. What about being *happy.* There’s no space not with my grief and fear. “And Virgil wants room.”

Tuesday, March 26, 2024

Tale 269 ~B Gives Virgil Space~

Dear Future Wife,
You know that I love you, right… To the moon and back? How about if the sun should refuse to rise, love?

You’ll have to forgive a friend here or there texting me about space. And you know your husband has always been into Star Wars. For that, I won’t apologize. But distance, space, and the void? My love, have you yet to understand how great my son was in this existence?

What do I mean was? Take yesterday, for example. Anytime I’m afraid, or something becomes too overwhelming. I remember the worst thing I’ve survived. Euthanasia! Specifically, the loss of my firstborn son, B III. And then everything else seems livable.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon, I took Virgil to the groomers. While waiting for him, I saw a dog crate that doubled as a nightstand. A place for B III and 2V, my love. My furry sons.

The idea of making space for them both together? And yet Braxton in his box. Or wherever he exists. And Virgil lying in a soft bed underneath. They’re both far.

Remember earlier this morning when Virgil Vivi was upset over the storm? Whether he was in our room or Braxton’s, the space between him and me doesn’t matter, my love.

I was driving to pick Virgil Vivi up, and I was thinking. If PetSmart harmed him? I have two words for them. John Wick. But I can’t say I love Virgil. Nowhere near my Braxton

But What About The Rest Of Us? V isn’t going anywhere. And there are always you, our children, and a few friends. I’m not counting myself. The man I am. I want him far away.

Only that’s the man you fell in love with. Underneath these clothes is an endless story. And the man you chose. I swear, Shakira, Shakira, ha-ha! Bragging about my manhood?

But seriously, The Space In Between Us, my love, this is what I’ve been thinking about all morning. I keep saying that Braxton is sending me messages from books lately. Between how to keep a fur buddy’s memory alive and Darrow protecting his friends, too.

Now, ask me what that tells me about being close to you, my love. All of my fears, the fence, and our finances. Braxton got so close to me before I knew anything, love. While you had me saying Somethin’ Stupid. B Gives Virgil Space

1150 Days Without B III, Day 591 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will