Tag: Manhood

Tale 340 ~Virgil, We’ll B Humiliated~

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Wake Up! Yes, I hate bright lights. Yes, I would rather bask in the darkness than see in the light of day I’ve wasted 39 years. Yes, people are horrible. But try waking up every morning to… Sigh… “Humiliations Galore.” Virgil, We’ll B Humiliated

Wednesday, June 5, 2024

Tale 340 ~Virgil, We’ll B Humiliated~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Losing Braxton, waking up before and after losing Braxton. There’s also taking off my pants, peeking at Yabbos.

The usual morning. However, I haven’t looked in the mirror yet, which is a blessing.

Yesterday, I got caught up in a motivational speech. It said something to the tune of 90% of success in life… or was it 80%? Anyway, 90% is just showing up. And the other 10% to 20% is, what for. Now say it with me, Inspector Echo. AHEM, Humiliations Galore!

Inspector, I wondered as I waited for Virgil to do his business this morning. He’s been going in the house, so why bother sitting here for twenty minutes? Am I trying to teach him at all? He looks at me as though he expects something. Hopefully, it’s not what I did to Braxton on Sunday, January 31, 2021. Uh, Euthanasia?

You’ll have to forgive me, Inspector. Between reading another fur buddy book, “The Survival Guide to Pet Loss.” And now having another E for “E-Day.” Euthanasia, in addition to Emergence, Existence, and Extinction. I don’t want to be FORTY, Inspector.

And I won’t be for a while yet… if ever. But it’s approaching. And that is what brings me to you today. As I’ve been saying for a few days. I’m not complaining. But I’m not as horrible as Tucker Carlson when just asking questions. Echo, I’m observing and explaining.

Every morning, I wake up saying I’m a sinner. But that’s not because of a religious doctrine, my friend. I say it because I know the “man” that I am. It ain’t a good one.

Braxton and Virgil, though… my boys. Why should they share my fear, failure, and fire?

Braxton was humiliated when my Old Man kicked him four feet high into a door. And then, when he ran to me. His tail was between his legs. And yet he turned and barked defiantly as I held a knife between us and my approaching Old Man. My son B III was/is a brave boy and the best “man” I’ve known. Even to the end, when he was dying, he was humiliated he couldn’t stay.

Virgil might not want to. His humiliation lies in the fact he can’t figure me out. I don’t know how to love him. That’s the both of us. But when I wake up, Inspector, I know. Virgil, We’ll B Humiliated

1221 Days Without B III, Day 662 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 338 ~Height And Weight, Equally Evil~

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The question once wasn’t a man or a bear. There were two questions. How tall are you? And how much do you weigh? The reactions while I’m all, “Whether short or tall, we wanna thank you all for letting us… (do stuff).” Height And Weight, Equally Evil.

Monday, June 3, 2024

Tale 338 ~Height And Weight, Equally Evil~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… And some don’t need to be talked about. Or I’m not in the mood. In the mood…

A woman once asked me if I always carry that… “lovin’ feelin’.” The truth is, yes, Ma’am, even in the face of the unbearable loss of my son, Braxton. There were 161 days of emptiness. I tried “filling” that void with OnlyFans, and then one evening, looking at Chloë Grace Moretz, I… (Cue Homer drool).

She’s as old as Cherry. And the thing is this. I would do precisely the same thing with them both, Madam. How you like that! But it’s better to keep my hands on the keyboard.

As I mentioned, I’m not in the mood, but I’m a hypocrite. Since my indifference led to my son’s departure to The Rainbow Bridge, I Feel Everything. I’m constantly battling with anger, sadness, and a strange mix of emotions. Things that make Pretty, pretty girls go… Eww! Rage, Depression, Lust…

Please, Madam, which is good, that makes the others evil.

Why is it okay to indulge in one and not the other? Like the unnamed narrator of Andrew Davidson’s novel, The Gargoyle, “I am an equal opportunity misanthropist.” That’s okay.

But amid this paradox, in this day and age, to quote George Orwell’s book Animal Farm, ‘All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.’ However, instead of delving into politics, societal issues, or my insignificance… I choose to focus on my two boys. Friend and Freeloader…

Braxton and Virgil are both my boys. But Braxton was/is my son. Virgil’s here, Madam. Even at 660 days, I don’t know what to make of him. But Little B III is frozen in time.

Always and forever, I’m his Dad. But a dog owner…

So let’s talk about me. If a girl asks my height, she’s allowed to do so. If I ask her weight, I’m rude. But I would do the same thing to Piper Niven as to Roxanne Perez. Now, if I could have them both… I know I need to stop, Madam. “Oh, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” But what makes me wicked? Who says that about me? Do you want a list? Ha!

If people want me gone, that’s okay. But if I agree, suddenly, I need help.

If I have money, I’m a player; without it, I’m a per… Anyway, if I want everything, I’m greedy. If I want nothing… I am. Height And Weight, Equally Evil

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

1219 Days Without B III, Day 660 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 334 ~Buzzing B Because Virgil…~

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Summertime and the bugs are out. Please! Between watching Helldivers II because, uh… what money? V catching something and getting Down With The Sickness. Reading, “Meditations.” And my technical prowess. It’s all bugging me. Buzzing B Because Virgil…

Thursday, May 30, 2024

Tale 334 ~Buzzing B Because Virgil…~

1215 Days Without B III, Day 656 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? You know how I am; I need a nap as soon as I get back.

And it’s only 9:30 AM. I swear, Braxton, the last few days have been like a constant irritation, a persistent annoyance, and a never-ending disturbance all at once. It’s been like a bee sting, a mosquito bite, and a butterfly flapping all at once. Am I being a tad overdramatic? Me! Sigh! I just can’t seem to catch a break.

Braxton, I’m trying not to complain. And if I told you the truth. All the things that are bothering me… Well, I’m trying not to reach for the buzzer to paradise. How about Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door? Gotta Knock a Little Harder. Me or Virgil? I don’t know anymore. But if anything, this is far from a land of milk and honey. Whatever V’s hacking.

I’ve been quite the busy bee cleaning up after him. What about my messes? Everything!

I think of you in the rare moments of peace when there’s a brief quiet between Virgil’s crying and coughing. Your words, sometimes comforting, sometimes biting, echo in my head. Am I blaming you for my reading Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations? Some of it is noise, and some is nothing, Ha-Ha. And then there’s what I need to hear. I’ve copied far too many quotes, Braxton.

Death by a thousand cuts. Or bites, whatever. Speaking of which, I should go and live outside right now. With Virgil being the way he is, your granddad, too. Are you out there, Little Braxton?

At least I wouldn’t be breaking anything else. And you know how I feel about being on my knees… Well, no! The only girl here you liked was your honorary aunt. She wouldn’t have minded. Looking at her, Cherry, M Anime, for a stepmom, Braxton…

Some girl that would rock me like a hurricane. A girl that is a hurricane. A Bullet With Butterfly Wings… I’m sorry for all the musical references. But again, Braxton, there’s so much noise. I thought I said I couldn’t hear you, and then you sent me such a title.

Yesterday, while at the Day Job, I was thinking about the worst sounds in existence. There’s the last breath you took. There’s every breath I take. It’s breathing, in general. Pretty much Then laughter. Let’s not forget making myself moan. But butterflies flapping their wings… Somewhere, one flapped, and Virgil caught a bug. I’m flipping through book pages. And what the Hell is that smell! It all bugs me. Without you… Buzzing B Because Virgil…

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 333 ~Braxton’s Crime Stopper Virgil~

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“I will protect you. Even if it means I must protect you from yourself.” B III lived that. And 2V? I can’t buy grand memorials for B when V needs stuff. Kept my naked butt off OnlyFans. And from doing dumb stuff. “Braxton’s Crime Stopper Virgil”

Wednesday, May 29, 2024

Tale 333 ~Braxton’s Crime Stopper Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But I was telling you all about this a week ago. Duh. Today is Wednesday, May 22, 2024.

So I’m not being lazy? I’ve had a lot of time off from the Day Job, and Virgil needs things.

A new potty spot since he must still smell Braxton on the old one. Of all the things that I’ve protected. Memories of my firstborn fur buddy. Where Braxton decided to “go” isn’t one of them. And what about a set of stairs? You know, for whenever he wants to get on the bed? I’m still unsure what’s going on in Virgil’s little brain. But he jumps off the bed whenever I’m about to sleep.

A man provides, right? Not a father. Even with his passing, I’ll keep that title for Braxton. He’s my son. Always. And I should be buying him stuff, too. Where’s the time and money going?

Not into my poetry book, GULP. And I still need to look at the two novels I wrote for Braxton. But I am trying to stick to a schedule with everything that’s been going on.

I wonder. What does DISH Network have on me? Um, Artificial Intelligence? The whole Internet?

If it isn’t novels… For now, I’m reading Backyard Dungeon 10. I’ve been hanging on OF. OnlyFans? Fortunately, I’m not spending any money. And as far as making it, Inspector.

Well, V is making that problematic with his running around. I mean only this afternoon, sigh. I was in the shower. But with Virgil crying in Braxton’s Room. Then, his unannounced visits. Like why now?

Inspector, you know how they ask if it’s weird that passed relatives might see you…

Uh… it’s hard for me. I remember… When Braxton first left, I was abstinent for 161 days, ha-ha. It was much longer than that when he was alive. But let’s trade one head for another.

Again, when we spoke earlier today, I told you about the violent knocking and me grabbing my weapon. And for most of Tuesday evening, I had it out. For protection?

Inspector, sorry to say I wasn’t thinking about survival. I wanted to join my Braxton.

Once again, there was Virgil. You must live for more. But having someone to protect…

He’s stopping me from “worshipping” one who is gone. He’s keeping my hand out of my pants. And away from harm. Braxton’s reasons for sending Virgil. Braxton’s Crime Stopper Virgil

1214 Days Without B III, Day 655 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 331 ~Harder To Breathe Up Top~

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Will you breathe? Will, breathe. More like, “Daddy, breathe.” Because when my furry little boy died, I didn’t plan on it. But I’ve managed for 1212 days. There are always more books to read. Or babes to look at. But to exist? Harder To Breathe Up Top

Monday, May 27, 2024

Tale 331 ~Harder To Breathe Up Top~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… Some people cancel them outright. Some are forgotten about. And still, some will evolve into, well, anything.

It makes my head hurt, along with the time travel. I’m speaking to you on Tuesday, May 21, 2024. However, when this rule was written out, I traced it back to 2018. I mean, wow!

I figured I’d be in another place entirely. Braxton would be twenty next year. And that’s when I expected to lose him. That is if he didn’t lose me by smothering me with his fur.

So what’s making my head hurt now? Why am I breathing when I don’t really want to, Madam? Let’s start by raising my head in the morning. The first breath that enters my lungs. It’s either my Braxton’s name that comes out. Or expletives from my mourning or moaning. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This.

I’m glad I covered the mirror in the bedroom. But there is the black mirror, AKA the phone, on the table beside me. I hold my breath, looking at the beauty of others. My mind.

Inevitably, I will find other ways not to breathe and instead sound like the zombie I imagine I am. The moans of newly found flesh.

Did I really just say that? And what’s worse is the look on my face when I say or do such things. Taking OnlyFans pictures.

But I could be so exhausted that whatever… risqué book I’m reading falls and hits me in the face. How many times has that happened?

And yet I live. My head stays intact. Breathing away and denying my fondest wish.

What? To follow Braxton wherever he went. The Rainbow Bridge? I am Braxton’s father, but if I had been even more of a man… Would he have lived? I keep asking myself that, Madam. I wanted to be a man of money, merit, and miracles. I would build our Heaven.

There would be no air because we would have everything, and no one could touch my son or me. And yet he found it. I suppose. My B III is sitting in his bed on the vet’s table, not breathing. As for me? When was the last time the “bigger head” has been up? Uhh…

There’s plenty of air as I fall Down To Earth. Nobody but Virgil and I. Harder To Breathe Up Top

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

1212 Days Without B III, Day 653 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 327 ~Virgil Will B Back~

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Will my Dad get back to me? I’m sure my son asked that, as I never left his side until he got sent to Heaven. Hell! If I wanted to join B, I could talk to my father. But, I won’t see paradise. I’m a sinner, a machine, or a zombie. Virgil Will B Back.

Thursday, May 23, 2024

Tale 327 ~Virgil Will B Back~

1208 Days Without B III, Day 649 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I’m coming to you on Friday, May 17, 2024. But that’s not entirely accurate. Right?

1208 Days have passed since you left. I’ll say the same of 1202. Even on day 1, the silence has become more profound, turning our world into ‘A Quiet Place.’ Am I still making too much noise about things that don’t matter, Braxton? Our “lives.”

Like father, like son. You kept me safe from what goes bump in the night. Only the FEAR always comes back. Is that why you wanted to be so scary? I was only scared of you when it came to you wearing clothes. Yes, like father, like son. And don’t ask me why I’m speaking to you so late in the day. I’m sure Heaven, The Rainbow Bridge, or whatever is full of toys and pretty good girls. Ha-Ha! There’s nothing to be afraid of there, B III. I hope.

But this is your Home. It still pains me to utter that word. Home? Of all the things I’ve gotten wrong. Braxton, “I’m sorry I didn’t do none of it right.” But bringing you back here? Well, I did, in a way. I haven’t opened your box, tomb. Uh, casket? Since the day I got it back. I’m too terrified of losing what’s left of you. And what’s left of me, B? Your Old Man.

FEAR of my Old Man.

It shouldn’t matter, Braxton. None of this is my fault. I’m not barking my head off about any of this. Well, except with you. I yearn to feel the indifference again, Braxton. How dare I?

But I can feel it again: FEAR, FURY, and FORGETFULNESS.

That I am a man? Like I’ve ever been? Like when you would play with your toys. Or with your Aunt’s… Yabbos. I’m all too familiar with my man parts, but being your Dad is what made me a man… of sorts. And I wish whoever that was would come back. But I mistook V for you. And whoever I’m looking at in the mirror. B’s Dad isn’t coming back.

Joe Stevens was a cog in the machine. Number 14 was a performer. Clarence became a corpse. And Bingham Madsen was a sell-out. At least he had money—his comeback.

Only, I’m no leader. I’m not much of an OnlyFans “performer.” How about writing? ” I’m not Jesus or rich. Still, Virgil Will B Back.

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 326 ~Virgil Does Dishes, Braxton~

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As long as Braxton’s food and water bowls are clean. 2V isn’t doing too bad. And soon, he’ll have even more space to run around when I send DISH Network all their stuff back. And if I were a famous writer or star on OF… “Virgil Does Dishes, Braxton.”

Wednesday, May 22, 2024

Tale 326 ~Virgil Does Dishes, Braxton~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Braxton is gone. The house needs to be fixed. In the backyard, the fence is falling down, etc.

If I can survive B’s passing, I can survive anything. That’s my constant thought, Inspector.

DISH Network has nothing on the euthanasia of my furry son. Still, when you grow to know, rely, and expect something. Even when it’s crappy TV. And the Old Man told me he had to go off on them. But still, I hate myself for being the drama of everything.

That’s my problem, Inspector. I look at inconveniencing the Old Man as I look at depriving my son of his life. And at the end of the day, everything is always my fault. I know.

So, long story short… The Old Man isn’t paying a $189.00 bill. I’ll be watching wrestling a day late. And I’ll have to stream AMC.

But the most humiliating part is this: DISH looked up the records of all I’ve been watching. So, I was wasting money by not watching enough. And then the things that I did—uh, Eww!

The secrets that I try to keep Inspector. And then there are the secrets I don’t have to spit out. Yet… Spitters Are Quitters. Inspector, I’ve said I am a “Pop Culture So And So.”

Already, I’ve been catching up on so much wrestling that the Algorithm is coming after me with a vengeance. Better artificial intelligence than all the girls I’ve done wrong, ok.

There’s M Anime and Cherry. I was busy catching up with them, Inspector Echo. So? Don’t worry. Though I haven’t kept “it” in my pants. It’s only been on OnlyFans. Like Norah Jones sings, Don’t Know Why I didn’t… um

Maybe because I didn’t have my “toys.” Before B III rested on the nightstand in 2021. Before, I had to get a weapon during COVID. You know what I was doing on the daily. Ha!

Yesterday, though, there was a violent knock at the door, and I had to go into the nightstand drawer and grab my weapon. Didn’t a man lose his life a few weeks ago doing the same thing? Senior Airman Roger Fortson? I snatched my gun and went to the door.

Well, I’m alive, Inspector. But I thought about this mess of existence. I’m still alive.

Existing is messy. But Virgil’s eating. Virgil Does Dishes, Braxton

1207 Days Without B III, Day 648 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 324 ~Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation~

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I ask for my Braxton back. I ask not to regret breathing. And to not be a blogger. But I sit in bed messing up the words because I have a Day Job. So, I’m blogging instead of writing. I promised B, but… Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation

Monday, May 20, 2024

Tale 324 ~Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation~

Three-Hundredth And Forty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules are made to be broken… But not this one. Well, not unless I’m not here anymore. And how I HOPE for that.

Another week feels like an eternity. It’s Sunday, May 12, 2024. Another tear? Another breath.

Have I forgotten where I am and what I’m doing? If this is the First Circle, Limbo. Then, I could see no better punishment for a writer. If only that were my greatest sin, Madam.

Nowadays, I drift between what I did to my son, Braxton. Then there’s my father. Blogging away about those two extremes when it is still Mother’s Day. I know, Madam.

But if I stopped writing, I would honor women, specifically my mother. Honoring my father would mean keeping my mouth shut, but I couldn’t. So I’m stupid. And to honor my son, I would join him. Only he has a story. People should read it.

And so every day, whether I want to or not, I wake up, whittle away time, and write. It’s more like I cry out for him, Braxton, B III! I argue about balls. And then I blog away. This is my way of keeping him alive. Or, so I thought.

So, how long have I been doing that? How long has this blog existed? Oh! Please understand, Madam. I’m not begging anyone to look at this “work” anymore. I don’t. Only these words in Sister Act 2 have stuck with me: “If when you wake up in the morning. you can think of nothing but writing…then you’re a writer.” Now, when I wake up, there’s Braxton first. Then, the question of why I’m breathing. And then there’s this blog. Daring to call myself a writer…

That’s like calling myself a reviewer. This leads me to where this rule came from. It’s from the movie Contagion. “Blogging is not writing. It’s graffiti with punctuation.” But my writing is simply a mess. The Mess! Madam Justice, I’ll get into all sorts of movies at this rate. But I’m not here for that. And since I won’t edit my novels for Braxton, Madam.

What is it I’m doing? Right now, I’m hoping the DISH Network people come through so I won’t have to keep writing about being a fool and my father. Forgive me for my whining, dear Madam. Yet my words have done far worse, haven’t they? Up against the wall, on Mother’s Day. I’m not writing. Blogging Is Graffiti With Punctuation.

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

1205 Days Without B III, Day 646 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 320 ~What’s After B, Virgil~

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After B, I didn’t want a “later on.” Time stopped. So I depend on clocks a lot now. And when I sleep, besides my boy and the books I’m reading, I “think” of breathing, and I wish… But I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed. “What’s After B, Virgil”

Thursday, May 16, 2024

Tale 320 ~What’s After B, Virgil~

1201 Days Without B III, Day 642 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Me? I’m awake and alive, so like I tell everyone else. “I’m here.” I wish…

Well, I can’t tell you what I wish anymore. At least not here. But you know it involves seeing you again. And how might I accomplish that? I could talk to my Old Man today.

He’s threatened me plenty over the years. And I’m nearing forty. That’s far too old.

Speaking of age, how about Virgil? I took him to the veterinarian yesterday. He’ll live.

I wasn’t sure I was going to. Every time I take that path up to the counter. I can’t breathe.
But again, nearing forty, I could also have a heart attack… And with the price of so many tests, shots, and even a single dose of medicine. You should have seen the vet’s face, B.

Keeping Virgil on a regimen.

Starvation is a possibility, with Virgil’s bill approaching three hundred. Didn’t I give the Old Man two hundred the other day? Then there’s five hundred dollars. And just like that, Braxton, I’m not hungry anymore. If anything, I’m feeling sick. I know that’s not funny.

But I would rather deal with the “ghost,” you, than the monsters around me. As I hide in bed like a child. Even Virgil wanted me to be on the bed again. I’m sure his life flashed before his eyes when the vet checked him out. But I’m no closer to seeing a doctor. There was the optometrist, and neither he nor THEY remember seeing me a few months back. I’m cracking jokes. What should I do, Braxton? Besides FEAR…

Come home to you? If I call my Old Man today, I’ll be going somewhere. But it won’t be Heaven and The Rainbow Bridge. And with as much “faith” as I have that you could take over for Cerberus, I wouldn’t want you “down below.” That’s me every day, Braxton.

While I was reading this morning. You know, about Bikini Nights and not furry memorials, I had a thought. Early into my grieving, I spoke about the five stages of grief. But maybe I’m doing the nine circles of Hell, or at least the seven deadly sins. If combined, it would be Bargaining and Greed. Because everything comes back to making deals and making money. Me, being a better person? Nah! What’s After B, Virgil.

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 319 ~I’d B Guilty, Virgil~

WillLeave a comment

1200 days ago, I lost my son. Now I long to see him so I don’t have to talk to my father. I always yearn to see my son again, regardless. When I’m being blamed for stuff at the Day Job. For DISH Network. Or daring to breathe. Ha. I’d B Guilty, Virgil

Wednesday, May 15, 2024

Tale 319 ~I’d B Guilty, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Braxton’s gone. I’ll soon be FORTY with nothing to show for it. And then there’s waking up today.

Do you know why I’m not religious? I don’t like waking up guilty. Inspector, I can take the fall for plenty. But these crimes I have nothing to do with are the ones getting me.

Every day, Inspector, I sit here and tell you that Braxton is no more. I was callous towards his needs, and one day, instead of bringing him back with me, I signed his life away. The decision of what ‘pretty box’ to put him in is my sin, my lady.

And then I look at Virgil. I don’t even know where to start there. But he has to visit with the veterinarian today. Only I can’t focus on him. And it’s not indifference this time.

Anxiety? No, Inspector. It’s FEAR!!!

Do, DISH!!! It will not be much longer if I call my father again today. My son, my Braxton, is a miracle—a prince, an angel, or even a god. I’ve said before, I don’t blame him for leaving me.

Only to my father, I am a mistake he keeps having to pay for. One of these days—it could be today—he won’t pay anymore. And then what happens? Breathing or simply being born.

That’s what had me up most of the night. Once upon a time, I stayed up all night to keep my son with me. And now I stay up, wishing to follow him and escape my father’s wrath. Braxton and I were two of a kind. Wanting to stay in bed, mouths shut. Survival? Existence?

Because I can’t even do that and not be guilty of some sin. I even got an email from a place I hadn’t visited in a year. They said they could overlook one of my past discretions, Inspector. Uh, thanks, but no. I’m a sinner. I’ve never denied it. It’s why we’re here. Isn’t it?

Braxton knows that. His adopted Aunt knows and doesn’t care. Virgil? Sigh. He doesn’t have a choice. He’s fearful of me, and I’m fearful of everything else. We’re guilty, men.

Only we stay in our beds, dreaming our crimes. Then we wake up in the “Underworld,” wondering why. Tell ’em that it’s Human Nature. I’m not looked at that way.

Criminal is my name. Guilt is my native tongue. The Devil… “Lucifer!” I hear all the women cry from Eric Vall’s novels. Anyway. Lucifer makes himself sound way better, being a man of wealth and taste. And even Braxton could be a Smooth Criminal. Only I’m the one dealing with the guilt. And what is my punishment, Inspector Echo? Breathe in, breathe out. Now, do it again. That explains why I no longer do those meditations on the Balance App. Besides not paying for it. Thievery, Inspector? Not for “self-improvement.”

I am guilty of far more… But today, it’s breathing, Virgil’s vet appointment, and DISH Network. I’d B Guilty, Virgil

1200 Days Without B III, Day 641 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will