Tag: Pancakes

Gospel 330 ~Just A Minute B~

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At least with the Day Job, every minute nets me something. The minutes I’m wasting with “Stuff and Thangs” isn’t helping. Only all those minutes I had with my son, where did they all go? “Just A Minute B.”

Thursday, May 27, 2021

Gospel 330 ~Just A Minute B~

116 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I understand if you can’t bark right now. I’m pretty busy too, “stuff and thangs.”

It’s still funny… well, not, but you know what I mean. I have this whole empty house, and I turn into a monk. I don’t have to let you outside or wait until I get into the shower. Hell, I’ve started a whole new “project,” but I’m only sending off videos of better days, Braxton. Speaking of which, while I was looking up old material, and yes, I am always working on your album. It’s the reason it’s taking so long. Everywhere I look, there you are. I have videos of your baths and of you working on your pancake impressions in my lap, Braxton. What I wouldn’t give for one more of those. The last time you sat in my lap… again, not really.

The vet gave us time, but you were hurting. You were hurting that Friday, January 29, 2021. What I mean is that day, you chose to climb into my lap. The first time you asked me for something that I couldn’t give. To save you. Dammit, the minutes were wasted. Braxton, I’m not yelling at you, and I’ll never stop saying this is my fault. I know it B III. When you asked for a minute, it was my duty, responsibility, and honor to be there B. But was I?

I remember when you leaned against me as I brushed my teeth and I was scared for you. But no worries B III, I came back from the Day Job, and you were better and pretty hungry too. Popcorn’s good

I swear there aren’t enough hours in the day to love you. You know something; part of the reason I became a monk, ha-ha, is because besides getting to The Rainbow Bridge. I know that’s not how it works, but I’m thinking of all that time gone. I’m torturing myself. You never wanted my pain, and that’s why you didn’t come into the bathroom and lean against my leg again. You had the strength to make it to your water because you wanted me to believe you were okay. Triple B, you hid under the bed because I started freaking out. SIGH it wasn’t fair, Braxton, but I had my moments. 15 Years or 7,884,000 minutes and the month of January. Just A Minute B.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 219 ~For Will, Pancakes, Braxton~

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I don’t want to talk about other people’s stories now. It’s only been a few days, and I keep thinking I should write out Braxton’s. That is when I can see straight for a little while. Not from hunger but too many tears. “For Will, Pancakes, Braxton.”

Friday, February 5, 2021

Gospel 219 ~For Will, Pancakes, Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I still buy pancakes. I’ve told the pancake stories, and here we go again, ready?

Braxton was young, and I was too old to still live with my Olds; much too old. I had a thing for Aunt Jemima French Toast, or maybe it was waffles. One morning after getting breakfast, I forgot a drink and left the food sitting on my bed. I come back and find this ball of fluff soaked in syrup, a big grin on his face, happy as can be. Well, the next day, I sit a plate of pancakes out of his reach. My Mom comes by and says, “You must really love pancakes.” That’s how I love my son. I would start saying, “I love you like pancakes,” meaning I placed him higher than anything in my life. My heart, my mind, Heaven…

When he was born, though… I wasn’t there. He came into my life in the hands of his grandfather. Braxton couldn’t have been more mine, but he started as a “gift” to my sister. I should have treated him as my “present” every day, but come another Sunday and TWD…

“When you were, uh, pouring the Bisquick, were you trying to make pancakes?” from TWD.

I made Braxton my son. He made me a better man, an alright one, a father. He died Sunday but today’s not that story. Not for you anyway, as I try to block it out, but it plays again; my little boy, dying there. I’ll start crying again, and not a day has gone by without tears. Making other kids…

No, not one could sit in my lap the way he did; how he would curl up as if I were a plate and he was a pancake. No matter what, he was a little prince, and I was his throne. Sometimes he would bring his toy like a scepter and sit it beside me. He would place it in my lap when he rather not be bothered. Near the end, he would lie there, sweating, “leaking” I don’t know what. I still haven’t washed the sheets or his stuff. If it weren’t for work, he would always be on my jeans. Everyone tells me to eat, and right now… Hell, my stomach will be filled, but I am empty. Needing, For Will, Pancakes, Braxton.

I Am Afraid Without Braxton

Gospel 216 ~Will And His Pancakes~

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I’ve always stuck with three pancakes. Maybe it’s how they’re packaged sometimes. I’m the bottom one, the middle wife, family, all I care for. This leads me to the top, that one covered in syrupy buttery goodness. Let me explain Will And His Pancakes

Tuesday, February 2, 2021

Gospel 216 ~Will And His Pancakes~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and still, you’re so high, high above me. Only I have to tell you now, despite what happened Sunday (Time-Travel), my Dæmon is up there. Once upon a time in my young and dumb days, I told my mom she didn’t know Unconditional Love. I was wrong then, and perhaps I am now, but what taught me to love, or um who? My mother loves me, you love me, and yes, I know I’m still iffy on that. Was it God… oh, let’s spell it backward. It was my DOG, firstborn, my Dæmon, yes, Little B.

I read a story about a married man whose wife gave up his cat. It’s one of the oldest rules in the book. Making someone choose between you and their child, nope. Make no mistake, he is my little boy as much as any of my other kids. He was before you, hopefully during you. God, I hate thinking about what has happened, could happen, will someday. I’ve had to think about this love’s end. No, not yours and mine but mine and his. Hell, I will love him forever, so I shouldn’t say that. I honor him each day before and after, The End, I try. Well, let me speak on some of the pancake’s story. When I was a “child,” I had a thing for microwave breakfast. One day I had waffles or French Toast, but I forgot a drink. Little B jumped up on my bed and had his fill of my food, his face dripping in syrup that day, so proud.

The next morning, I had pancakes, and I placed them up high. My mom said, “you sure must love pancakes.” If I had known then, that Little B would be welcomed on my bed. Geez, I‘d go to raining pancakes and other foods on his little head for his entire life. Interesting how high he got. I mean not only on my bed but on my shoulders. I’d carry him. He’s in my heart, in my mind, one day soon (it’s Sunday). I don’t know. As I don’t know God, but that is what Little B was, is… he came above everything else for me. He built me up like his father, and I could not help but lift him higher and higher with love.

As I love you, family, him. Will And His Pancakes.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 242 ~Will Of Old Men~

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You don’t talk they tell me and when I do, shut up, I don’t write I say and when I do block, delete trash, so of course, my best friend would be someone who can neither talk nor read. “Will Of Old Men, mine is to write.”

Friday, February 28, 2020

Log 242 ~Will Of Old Men~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I should be like everyone else and pay for silence. Right now, I’ll admit I can barely hear the humming my head is brimming with ideas. Today I know, the last Friday of February (Tuesday honest), I should be listening to My Dæmon’s loud barks. We’ll get to it, don’t you worry, but I had sort of a melding of the minds with Cherry this afternoon. You remember as I had with my Big Sister, but she’s in Australia. For want of a woman, and I’m talking to one in England. Good news, NaNoWriMo’s ready.

It’s hard keeping all of my stories together, but I believe my next one won’t be part of the series. Should I tell you the one that starred My Dæmon, albeit Transmogrified? I don’t even remember if I gave that novel a name. Well Lady Sophia, as with the rest of them it always begins or ends in some brothel. My Old Man is a horndog in every sense, but getting him neutered? If you told me way back then that it could buy him more time, I would have considered it. Am I typing too loud, or does he know because he took off upstairs? He’ll return, he always does. I see plenty of writers talk about cats, but my kid is the perfect writing companion. Don’t get me wrong, though; I’m starting to get like Marianne Engel from The Gargoyle. She’s the sculptress of grotesques; I’m the narrator of filth, excuse me pornography.

Now that leads me to talk about Cherry. I mused that she and I should write together and she said yes. Don’t get excited, Lady Sophia, you know how I get about group projects unless you’re an Australian mom. Cherry is much too tame (sleeping with a corpse). I’m also well, me (everything you’re going to do before making a corpse and after). So while she is working on The Cherry Chronicles, I’ll be writing a novella as well. A Minister, a mom, a Millennial, and a Man walk into a church, hmm. Sounds like the start of some bad joke, plus she’s no Millennial, truth be told I am. Anyway, will this be an Erotica? You know me so well, Lady Sophia but 12,540 words. I’m a stickler for math and alliteration. To write today, Will Of Old Men.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 235 ~Dizzying Heights Of Will~

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I’m not scared of heights, well high prices, giving in to specific addictions, and the pitch my son makes if and when he gets into trouble, but I also keep my word count up, well maybe not today. “Dizzying Heights Of Will,” I keep climbing.

Friday, February 21, 2020

Log 235 ~Dizzying Heights Of Will~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so why am I starving. At this moment, I have $45.00 in my wallet, so that’s solved. $10.00 for gas, $15.00 for “redistribution,” and $20.00 directly to find a new place to eat. My two favorite restaurants closed, but come on, why not get a burger or something. Am I still ticked off at Audible for cheating me out of $5.00? For the record, I was buying Think and Grow Rich. Now also something you should know, who’s not starving, my little pancake; how he eats.

My Dæmon always has food, while I’m going without because I’m a Scrooge. Don’t get me wrong, Lady Sophia, I’m nobody’s charity case as I want to scream at the Day Job. If anything, I’m super selfish when it comes to myself. Okay, so I “buy” plenty of Pornography. I need to get comfortable with that word since I do intend to be a pornographer in one of my business ventures. Come on now, Lady Sophia, if Andrew Davidson’s character in The Gargoyle can say it plenty, why can’t I?

That’s what I’ve been doing at work, listening to The Gargoyle on Audible. One more book I bought while I was getting cheated. It’s one of my favorites to read and speaking of which, I’m still reading Siren: A Dark Retelling by Hazel Grace. I’m heading into that dangerous portion. Where I’m not sure, I should continue, like Chloe warning me in Detroit: Become Human.

One more game I’m not playing because of the “DANG” humming coming from the Den. I left a note for the neighbors, but they might not be the root cause. Talk about things I regret writing because aren’t I supposed to be talking about my son. Anyway, I was dizzy at the Day Job today (Tuesday) from lack of food, seriously I have cash, why not eat? In any case, my son, once upon a time, got so dizzy. He couldn’t jump, was having trouble walking, etc. It turns out there was a tick in his ear. Well, of course, I called the vet and set up an appointment the next day. I carried My Dæmon everywhere for hours, but he still wanted to walk, what a trooper. At the vet, his crying when they pulled out the tick, maddening.

I’m not scared of heights, none but his high wailing so, Dizzying Heights Of Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 228 ~Pancakes And The Willies~

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The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, THEY say, and while I can’t say I cook much, my heart is with a little four-legged kid who only yesterday turned 15, and yet I’m not bringing home a new mom. Pancakes And The Willies hmm

Friday, February 14, 2020

Log 228 ~Pancakes And The Willies~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and one day I will buy My Dæmon a pool full of fries. Yesterday was his birthday, and perhaps for this month, I want to share his story. It’s not like I’m reading anything or anybody cares. I even missed one Friday, but okay, let’s call this the story of Pancakes.

I tell my son every day, “I love you like pancakes.” When he wasn’t even a year old, and he was my nephew (my sister decided to have two-legged children). Anyway, I took him walking, he needed fresh air and to work his little legs. The next morning, he was looking handsome and healthy, he was happy. So I went to the kitchen as I forgot a drink with my breakfast. Coming back to my room, here was my wee little puppy man on the bed. His head buried in syrup goodness of French Toast or waffles. Lady Sophia to be young again. I should also ask what they put in those sausages since he avoided them? A day after that, another microwavable breakfast, this time pancakes. Fool me once, right. So I place them up high from his reach. My Mom says, “You must love pancakes,” the first reason.

The second comes from The Walking Dead, Episode 6×11 “Knots Untie.” Abraham and Glenn were talking about Maggie’s pregnancy. Abraham said when Glenn was pouring the “Bisquick,” was he trying to make “Pancakes.” Now I didn’t make my firstborn, but he is my son. He’s my child a Prince, a Protector, my “ride or die” Partner. Lady Sophia, he’s my best friend; that’s all I need to know. When I found myself here in this place, there wasn’t even a question he was staying with me without question. My Mom again would tell me when I was still living with them that he would defend my room and me against anything. Even now, as always, he’s lying here. Yep, taking a break from his patrol to be at my side.

Lastly, he hops into my lap, curls up, and sleeps without fail, that’s trust. He forms the perfect warm little pancake right there, and it’s like he melts. Sometimes he’ll even bring his favorite toy. I ask you, Lady Sophia, after feeling such love, is it any wonder I’m scared? 15 is a considerable age, so Pancakes And The Willies.

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 297 ~I’m A Wanted Man~

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Do I love too much for having no one to “love,” well anyone with two legs that is; of course I love my dog like pancakes because he wanted my waffles but that’s a long story. I’m A Wanted Man but for all the wrong reasons that I know sadly.

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Lesson 297 ~I’m A Wanted Man~

Dear Future Wife,
I Am Not Fine Today or more like I didn’t receive a fine today, thankfully I don’t need bail, and yet here I stand wanted, needed, and loved, the only “Wanted” poster I see is the man staring back at me in the mirror. A man captured by his love and I’m guilty as charged, never let me go, throw away the key, though you won’t hear me calling you the ball and chain, as the song goes “What’s My Age Again?”

I’m not one to compare you to a summer’s day either though I’m sure you’ve heard enough of my romantic quips and my smartphone is a constant source of inspiration such as “I Want You To Want Me.” I want to know a want like putting the phone on shuffle and waiting for that all too perfect song to pop up on Spotify, and you can’t help but dance and sing. You know maybe how I am on a Sunday when I’m watching The Walking Dead/Fear The Walking Dead, “Into The Badlands,” and “Westworld” all rolled into one. An addiction like looking up something on YouTube and getting trapped in a stream of dog videos and reactions to shows, talk about “Let’s Get Lost” and we will be but speaking of wants for some reason I want regular TV too, does that make me weird.

Just like I want to be the last thing on your mind when you go to bed, I want to be like a story you tell yourself to help you sleep, as I would once replay Far Cry 5 or Saints Row in my head I want to be your “Escape.” Hell, I want you to be my Anastasia Steele… what too soon, I mean my Anastasia meets Abraham Ford, let’s make some pancakes one day. I want those pancakes to wake me up in the morning and what is it I always say, I love my dog like pancakes, my first born and all.

“When you were, uh, pouring the Bisquick, were you trying to make pancakes?” Abraham Ford

I promise no jokes about women wanting everything and don’t they say “All You Need Is Love” thing is that isn’t a choice, and while I want that too, every day I want to choose us. If this heart has its say I will because I want you, need you, believe, have hope, and many things in-between like the air.

Do I want too much, if wanting such love is a crime then guess what love? I’m A Wanted Man.

I Will Have No Fear