Tag: Marquis de Joker

Gospel 296 ~The Battling Barker Braxton~

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His bark is worse than his bite… God, how I miss that bark. Braxton may not have liked a bunch of people; I can count them up on one hand. He loved me, and the people that do are far less. B fought for me until the end. “The Battling Barker Braxton.”

Friday, April 23, 2021

Gospel 296 ~The Battling Barker Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or I better be as Braxton can’t protect me from what has happened, will or won’t.

Back in B.B. (Before Braxton), when I was in high school, I would “pray” to have hell, someone to pray to at all. A friend to stand with me… though even with B III, I never got around to getting him registered or whatever. Fuck You ASM, I said WHATEVER!!! Pardon me, My Lady, anyway Braxton should have been an Emotional Support Animal. As the song goes, “so take a look at me now,” I’m going crazy. Although that could be the idea of a fight. I’m saying I won’t say YES, I won’t kowtow, back down, hit the ground. If I do, that overgrown, meathead, jock asshole will have to put me there, I swear. However, my first mistake was burying my best friend.

Well, no, B III is sitting on my nightstand, but you know what I mean. Speaking of black men that are threats to my safety, sanity, and self-worth, my “father.” I fought him once and lost but Braxton. My prince knowing, my dude’s in distress, jumping between us, my boy. He got kicked four feet high by my “father” into a wooden door. Braxton and I have shed the same blood in the same mud or across a kitchen floor, at least. Time to get my cry in on this Saturday, April 17. Braxton is forever my son, my brother, and my best friend. He showed such forgiveness, but when my “father” came by without me here, he sat in his bed very scared, waiting.

What I might miss the most as I sit here in bed is where he would be when I slept. I would wake up to see him on the foot of the bed on the corner, staring at the door. As I got going, he would come over, and after making sure I was okay, he would sleep; Daddy’s shift. As I confessed at some point, I’ve never woken up to a girl in the bed. Not in this house. The way Braxton and I would sleep back to back. How he’d guard the gate when we were at my Olds barking up a storm. “Remember who the real enemy is.” Braxton wouldn’t care if I was a hero or villain. The Battling Bard Braxton.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 295 ~Sounds Like B Leaving~

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There’s no alarm for “mourning.” There’s no routine for it; otherwise, I would listen to He’s My Son by Mark Schultz 24/7. “What A Heavenly Way To Die” that would be. Instead, I take a second step in the five stages of grief. “Sounds Like B Leaving.”

Thursday, April 22, 2021

Gospel 295 ~Sounds Like B Leaving~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I don’t want to make you mad, although your Dad is all sorts of pissed.

I know. It sounds like I could be doing better. Today it sounds like I’m going to talk about the good, the bad, and the ugly. Braxton, you were the soundtrack of my life. I need you to know that. Do you remember the day I said, “Braxton get in the car,” and you hopped? The first day you chose me, not my sister, not the grandparents, only me. In their new house, you barked at them in the AM defending the gate for me. The best welcome I got from you was the day your granddad was here. You jumped into my arms, whining. Braxton, the most beautiful sound was nightly. When I would say, “Night, Night Braxton, Sweet Dreams.” You’d paw the bed, settle and sleep beside me.

I hated fighting with you. There were times you would growl at me or snap. I’d be all, “you’re in trouble, the longer you hide.” You and I would both listen for one of my alarms to go off so I could call you a “good puppy” again. Your nails were pacing the floor all alone. I would call you about your meds, but it was hard for you to get down the stairs. I would carry you for so many days, but once you were outside for a walk, you were young again. You couldn’t hop in the car anymore, and I couldn’t blame you; with my final act. No, it started the day you cried… I ignored you.

I swear I thought you were going to be okay. Wednesday, you cried. By Thursday, you were back. I didn’t need the doctor to utter the words that Sunday evening. “He’s Gone.” The worst sound in the world was as I held you there and I heard your final breath. Braxton, I sat there on the stairs that day and cried like I never have before. It was the fucking silence that was killing me. How dare I? I killed you, so my going to Hell is what I deserve. For 72 days, I lived in Denial, I continue, but then the fucking ASM, ANGER. That bastard took my “peace.” Down from Denial to Anger, Up from Treachery to Anger. Always Sounds Like B Leaving.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 294 ~B Guile The Neighbors~

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If B were alive, he’d be P.O.’ed at me. Either because we’d because he can’t do his job of yard defense. Who knows what bugs are out there? It’s also a bit like the fridge; his old food was growing stuff. “B Guile The Neighbors,” looking at the yard?

Wednesday, April 21, 2021

Gospel 294 ~B Guile The Neighbors~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can buy some arcade machines. Not that I was good at Street Fighter…

I hope my neighbors don’t think I’m just lazy. Hell, most of them don’t know that Braxton has passed. To be honest, this is Camp NaNoWriMo season, so um, the house’s a mess, and the yard’s grown wild. I want to say I’ve made it through NaNoWriMo again, hmm. Then what? I publish a book, make my million and move away someday. One more reason B is still in the box and not dust in the wind of the first yard that was all his to defend. I do imagine if he went to Heaven, he’s annoying God; Hell, he’s finally found a doggy playmate. Should I be ashamed for saying that? My shame was in killing him, so fuck my neighbors’ opinions Inspector Echo.

Pardon my French, but Braxton would be pissed with me, and that’s what matters. Is this really going to be about me not cutting the grass this week? Letting my son’s territory be overrun by, well, I don’t know anymore.

Yes, Braxton, my brave, handsome boy, with a big mouth. One day I’ll tell the story of when we first arrived. For now, there are only these facts. I cleaned the house for pretty girls, and I cut the grass for B. He’s one for security, and he never let his size or cuteness stop his bark. To the south is the front door, my job because B um… like father like son and in his defense the girl was hot. Our northern border was all his. He was Ghost, and I was Jon Snow and how we hated yep, Winter Is Coming, Or Spring now, so my problems of late. I feel more like Grey Worm. If you’ve been keeping up with “Dear Future Wife,” I am losing my Missandei too. You want a horrifying confession. Tell me I would have to lose my “man parts,” and I could have B alive and well… I wouldn’t even think twice.

You see how my mind works from Street Fighter’s Guile to Game of Thrones. As always, the background noise is what’s keeping me going without the pitter-patter of tiny paws. Because for now, I’m not going outside. Braxton would bark at them, but the grass… Can’t B Guile The Neighbors.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 291 ~Bye The Letter B~

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B wasn’t an attack dog. To some, he was an angel, even when he was barking up a storm. To me, B III was a god. When you see the ending of one such as him, you no longer fear what men may do. Bye The Letter B I still must face the bullying of men

Sunday, April 18, 2021

Gospel 291 ~Bye The Letter B~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, but this week you might struggle. It’s not fear. Hope for the best; prepare for the worst.

You mean no insult to the warriors of the past, but shall you write a letter? A letter that says, if anything, the basics. I love you, I tried, I’m sorry; all the things I said to Braxton as I signed his life away. I signed my own death sentence, and I become different weekly. That’s why I say hello to you, and you could be saying goodbye to the Day Job. I find that even though Braxton is no longer here, I have no courage to lend, neither hope nor a word of peace. I don’t look a thing like Jesus. Jesus needed those three days getting War Ready.
I spent all of yesterday in bed, doing my 5000 words, denying Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Finishing Reading, Katie: A Novella by Mo Ibrahim
    Completed
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
    Partial
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
    Failed
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 107 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Completed (Day 114) No Fap
  5. I Am Getting In Touch With Someone About A B III Tattoo
    Failed
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Now, who am I to tell you anything? I failed yet again. Listen to me, please… the ASM is a bully, and you are not afraid, but nevertheless, I ask you, stand strong and courageous. He’s the asshole like so many in high school. He’s like those bitches at Wendy’s or Hardee’s. He’s like your Old Man. For all I know, this stand may not come this week at all. What would Braxton Do? He would bark, bite, be driven under the bed, but he would return. He lasted fifteen years, a month shy of his sixteenth birthday. One decade… Believe me when I say that it’s time to grow up. From lousy report cards, teachers not calling your name, oh yeah, Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Finishing Reading, Succubus Lord 13 by Eric Vall
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 114 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I Am Not Bowing To The Day Job Under Threat Or Duress
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am

I won’t hold my breath on most of these things, you know. Your war paint won’t stay on because of all your tears. After what happened to B III, the idea of pain… who needs more? I could search for a few of the greatest speeches and prayers. My offering:

“I will eternally ask your forgiveness, my son, I the father who failed you. Yet now I ask you, my good puppy, to hear me. I ask for the courage you showed against all who would do us harm. I plead for your wisdom, your good decisions. I wish for your comfort B, here, in my most desperate hours. Let me be the man you believed in no matter what.”

Prayers. Bye The Letter B

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 289 ~B Gets The Girl~

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“Tale As Old As Time Song As Old As Rhyme…” maybe not; it’s only been seventy-five days. I lost the “young” prince Braxton. I’d give the kingdom to have him back. Now I’m screaming at a lady yesterday for invading my space. B Gets The Girl.

Friday, April 16, 2021

Gospel 289 ~B Gets The Girl~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but instead of wanting to be the Prince, I’ll listen to B and be the Beast.

Now make no mistake, Braxton was a prince. Humans to dogs are owners, masters, kings, even gods but also best friends. With all the regrets of how I was nowhere near the best daddy to him. I am saddened by the fact that Braxton never made any doggy friends ever. Her name was Greta. I can’t remember what kind of dog she was, only that she and B were about the same height. We met her when we lived with my Olds (B III’s grandparents). I’d take him around the block, um, when it was “safer” being a black man.
Sorry, I don’t mean to get awfully political today. Anyway, so Greta would come up to say hello, and what do you think he did?

Braxton might not have been one with the furry chicks but my type of girls. I shouldn’t say that either; otherwise, she and I would have been together. For now, she remains my second BFF. I often said that the first girl that wins B’s heart I’d marry. Sorry, Braxton. Her name is Indiana Gone (not a fact, you know). While I was busy getting all handsy with the maid, B could not keep his paws off Indiana Gone. I’m sure I’ve told this story before how he hated her guts at first but like father like son. B Squared was one for her Yabbos. So here I am explaining to my son that he has to be a gentleman. Nope, he was a beast.

Only I would not let him, as Trevor Philips put it, “rut like beasts.” I swear, sometimes I felt like a pimp, people bugging us, wanting to buy him, and talking about breeding. The lowest offer for Braxton was $500.00, the highest $900. I should have gotten him a sister. Do you want to hear a confession? I’ve never got some “cuddy” in this house; my hand to God truth. We’re talking well… years. Now B Squared for all his barking, chasing, and then running from girls. Triple B was a virgin, and I didn’t have the heart to neuter. I’m continuing to line up regrets, no playmates, taking better care, and he never got to meet my new family.

Heaven… B Gets The Girl

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 288 ~Braxton Is, Write Will~

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I much rather be writing letters to my son than having to contemplate going to HR again today. How about explaining to my Olds about really becoming a starving artist? No matter how confusing, I do write better than I speak. “Braxton Is, Write Will.”

Thursday, April 15, 2021

Gospel 288 ~Braxton Is, Write Will~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day; has your day begun? Is the Rainbow Bridge like the Rainbow Road a timed event?

It wasn’t a race you had to win, and yet you did. That explains why I’ve been listening to “Run Boy Run” on the playlist I made for you or me, us… I don’t know. While I have nothing to say to God, that line from He’s My Son echoes, “if you can hear me, let me take his place somehow.” It’s a simple request, and if I had written anything that touches others the way that line makes me bawl? I could have stopped you from leaving, you know, like putting up some gate. It wasn’t money or the doctors, Braxton it was time. Two years ago, I paid money to publish Gulp, and here I am two years later without you or anything.

You have been here for every story I’ve ever written. Well, minus that one when turkeys took over the whole world. Where has the hunger gone, I ask you? Wasn’t it right after you left? I signed the papers, and I turned ravenous, at least physically, from famine to feast. It still hurts, you know, even when I shop online. Hell, even before I do that, I sit here doing the budget again. Your needs are no longer part of the mathematical equation unless we count the water bill. That’s where your grandparents step in. I should be writing checks. Instead, I book shopping trips, and the food disappears. I buy books from infamous figures. The background is plagued with noise from unwatched shows, Youtube.

If writing paid for this, who knows where you would be my B; still alive? Instead, I continue to work the Day Job I hate and write lackadaisically at best. You would sit here with me, or at 2:00 AM, you’d be in your bed waiting. I’d come in, and you’d wake up to get in my bed. If I wasn’t going to be serious about my writing, the least I could do is spend more time with you. I Only Want To Be With You, like Janine and her Charlotte in The Handmaid’s Tale. Another book, a show, a concept more remarkable than mine. Yours ended but my library… Braxton, perhaps that was your last lesson. I am your father, a “writer.” To be all, Braxton Is, Write Will

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 287 ~B The Clock Challenge~

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Geez, what time is it? Let me rub the sleep from my eyes, or pollen, fur, doesn’t matter. I’ll never see my boy in this life again. I should probably stop crying with all these traditional books lying around but so little time. B The Clock Challenge.

Gospel 287 ~B The Clock Challenge~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and it wouldn’t matter if I had a Rolex or Omega watch. Telling time is hard.

Would you think I would be embarrassed by that? I the time-traveler; I mean, I can do it, but just like driving a stickshift, an automatic and a digital watch is easier. If anything, I could always use a few more hands. Mine are still stained with fur and blood… figuratively. People are sick of me talking about my kid, well, those who know. I’m speaking to you on April 8. Who am I to say what Indian Gone or M Anime thinks by now. My time is split between B, the Day Job, trying to stay awake, and as Taylor Swift sings, Blank Space. Who am I kidding? Braxton is always there. You would think I’d be earlier for the Day Job but B?

There is so much left to do for him, Inspector Echo, and how did I spend my morning. As I said, everything is about him, so I wrote him another letter. How about that tattoo I want of him? There’s a video I wanted to make of him (saddest thing ever). A lone high priest. The Church of Braxton? No, I’m as selfish as I ever was, still seeking my punishment. The ending punctuation in this chapter of my life, or a pot of gold. Why I’m learning about NFT’s? Not really, please, only killing more time, but something did catch my ears about them. For one moment, I wasn’t listening for Braxton. I continue to live by the alarms I set on my phone.

Anyway, Trevor Noah talked about ownership of originals, classics, whatever. That I don’t have B III in my lap, I’ve gotten into physical books even more so. An author I am reading turned me onto them. He talked about another author and these books he did before he passed that got him into a lot of trouble. I’ve read things from writers currently incarnated but these works… Well, one of them is 50 years old, is that old? The books go for hundreds, so yeah, between Braxton and body art, and bunches of artists, give me more books. What do I have to lose? I lost my god, I’m in Hell, and what time is it again to live without Braxton? B The Clock Challenge

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 284 ~B Eager As Ever~

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When I was a kid (ha-ha), the Book Fair was, well, my second favorite thing. Dogs were first. And now, being an adult (funny) with only the memory of my son and m library mostly digital… it’s rare when anything good comes to the door. B Eager As Ever

Sunday, April 11, 2021

Gospel 284 ~B Eager As Ever~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, and you’re still tired, hoping you’ll be a better man, but you’re “home,” so yeah, Braxton’s life.

Ever so grateful for his. You can’t say that enough. It’s official or will be around 4:00 PM. Braxton has been gone 70 days or 10 weeks, does two months, and some change suit you better. I was once annoyed by how people talked about their newborns. You want to treasure every single breath, right? Every Day Is Exactly The Same as the song goes. With all the routines that will be keeping you alive, I’m sure you’ll be fighting the urge to live exactly that. I’m sorry that I failed you in that idea. Again you’re living as B III, living for him. Should I give the spiel or sing He Lives In You? Enormous, hopes, wishes, and dreams but not Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Finishing Reading, Succubus Lord 12 by Eric Vall
    Completed
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
    Partial
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
    Failed
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 100 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Completed (Day 107) No Fap
  5. I Am Getting In Touch With Someone About A B III Tattoo
    Failed
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Enemies that I suppose you’ll avoid well, four of them at least. Are you going to blame Camp NaNoWriMo? You’d never blame Braxton but that Day Job of yours, and then what are you doing to change the situation? Yeah, I know you’re getting started, 5:00 AM, damn fucking world. Egregious, isn’t it? And I’m not only talking about your language. I’ve been thinking about all the lessons that B taught. It’s like when he was here, I didn’t know it, but I had it all. Now you have enough. Becoming a Billionaire seems to be getting further and further away, like 5000 words, ha. Energy, peace, and I’m not Whitney Houston or Hank Hill to wish you, LOVE. A curse of Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Finishing Reading, Katie: A Novella by Mo Ibrahim
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 107 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I Am Getting In Touch With Someone About A B III Tattoo
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am

Eking out a living is no way to live, and yet I ask you like those motivations you no longer play to be grateful. I’ll admit that even I was for a few minutes yesterday afternoon, so one is ready. Easy way to say this is. Be like B. You remember how he was with you would bring fries home, and he would be prepared to tear into them. Yesterday I received another book and read it on the counter. Enlightenment may not be the order of the day, but why choose fear, pain, and oh this world again. You could make that an Impossible Thing, like living without B. But find something… um good. Eagerness, like Braxton to stay. Please, B Eager As Ever.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 282 ~Try And B Professional~

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I said I didn’t want to tell a sad story. I hate my Day Job, but here I am to talk about B’s work experience. Hell, he took the one job that no other American wanted… when he loved me. 365 and 24/7, my Chihuahua would Try And B Professional

Friday, April 9, 2021

Gospel 282 ~Try And B Professional~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but Hell, my “father” only wanted me to get a job, and I can’t be mad.

Braxton would be these days. Literally, because the grass is poking his “whanger” while running the fence. I should never forget how great a teacher B III is. Did you know “whanger” is the U.K. equivalent of wanger, which is how I spelled the word originally? As for my son himself, I wish I could find all the rules he taught me. One of my favorites being “legs, breasts, and thighs are best in a bucket of chicken.” I continue to admit I hate math all these years, which is why I’m burning through wealth like there’s no tomorrow, if only. How do I learn to live without him? Last night I forgot to call him for “medicine time” damn, wrestling was on. My bad…

I’ve been thinking that Braxton had to become a mad scientist. His little body became a lab for god knows his schedule for taking his meds, the food he ate, and the water. I want to tell happy memories, but could a fucking water filter have saved him? I don’t care if he was a Trump supporter. Isn’t that weird coming from someone who originates from Mexico? I’m sure B III himself was born in the USA. He believed in our border wall, e.g., our gates. He hated nearly everyone, and he loved Black People, me, the family, Indiana Gone. Then why did he leave me all alone? My moods, I tell you, Lady Sophia, but Braxton was the best therapist, counselor, and dear friend.

People don’t believe me, but when I was sick and taking too long in the bathroom, he’d carry a blanket over to the door and cry. He would lie with me and lick my hand when I was unwell. When I was “hurt,” he would lie on that body part wishing it better, my kid. He was an expert cuddle buddy; I still miss our back-to-back formation, on guard even in sleep, good and bad. He must have figured I would drown one day, the way he called me out of the shower, so I can add lifeguard to his resume. With all the NaNoWriMo’s I’ve done, he is also a co-author. Today still unpublished.

I killed his book character. I’ll Try And B Professional.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 281 ~A Noise With Braxton~

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I figured if there is one horror movie I’d survive, it’d be A Quiet Place. People make too much noise, and B and I didn’t like it. At least his noises always meant something, but I didn’t listen. Now I’ll never hear him again. “A Noise With Braxton.”

Thursday, April 8, 2021

Gospel 281 ~A Noise With Braxton~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Are you listening to me? I know you would ask if you ever did before?

I’m still not talking to God. There’s not much point in even acknowledging such a thing. Yep, that’s going to piss off some religious folk. Your grandma did check-in about a week or so. Your aunt told me of another furry kid. THEY don’t get it like the song “He’s My Son.” Always and Forever. There I go crying again. At the very least, I can say it hasn’t been all “wailing and gnashing of teeth.” It’s more a soft sob these days, but not one day has passed without me crying for you. I could be grieving for me because I hope you’re happy, of course, wherever you are, Braxton. Annoyed we aren’t together anymore is the lightest way I can put that B.

Also, there’s the fact that I didn’t read to you more. One reason is that reading about “succubi?” Those aren’t good stories for you. I still say either Heaven was jealous of Cerberus, or he needed a buddy. Two is, have you seen the actual books I’ve been buying? And three, I’m not done writing. You are too much like me, wanting to work so hard but quick with an excuse. You can’t see because Daddy hasn’t cut the grass; I’m not doing that because I’m writing. I’m not doing that because you’re napping on my legs. I was on my feet all yesterday because, yes, B, A Man Provides. That’s what you did, B III, all the sighs, huffs, sobbing, you brought the noise.

No amount of ASMR will ever make up for your sneak attacks, snoring, or sinning the world with your barks. I don’t care how pretty “Amy Kay” is. I rather have your cuteness. Before you ask, your Daddy is still celibate/asexual monk; sixty-seven days. Even longer One Hundred And Four. Now that’s too much information, B, but just a thought, I saw you with all your toys, ha-ha. You know the sound of my heartbeat when we would lie on the couch. I could be out cold, and how many times have I said this? I would wake up, and you would be sitting at the foot of the bed. You heard me say goodbye. Now I want your Hi. Anything, A Noise With Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad