Tag: Place

Tale 095 ~Hey Jealous V, Braxton~

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One of B’s greatest accomplishments was making God or whatever jealous. The last look in his eyes… He wanted to stay. And what watch me pant, drool, and rave over what I want. Family, food, fun. He was his father’s son. Now V. Hey Jealous V, Braxton.

Wednesday, October 4, 2023

Tale 095 ~Hey Jealous V, Braxton~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now… This means I’m not paranoid. People are watching me. A spam call here… fake emails there…

But no. I’m nobody. That’s what Virgil’s eyes are telling me. A full-length mirror. Courtesy of the Day Job I hate. Braxton’s eyes would show someone better than this. Inspector, as the song goes, “He Lives In You.” B’s jealously were our dining options. Only I was usually sharing with him anyway. Sharing, I swear, some days Inspector, sigh. I go to YouTube and see a pair of my favorite reactors brought their son into the world a couple of days ago. Good for them. Doing what they love. With whom they love. It’s beautiful

Meanwhile, I see on Twitter/X whatever. That a girl went and bought herself a house. Then, on OnlyFans, this former wrestler raised her rates from 0 to $7.99 in days.

Yes, I’m just a jealous guy. I’m jealous of the guy I was last night and who I am today. There’s a man who could tell you the truth and one who has to lie to your face, Echo. Um, considering today is Monday, September 25, 2023. Time Travel. Lies are still lies, hmm. There was the guy who was motivated “come” last night. But today, I’m back sitting in bed, falling way behind after a humiliating time at the Day Job. And I added to it. Inspector, it was all my choice. And even when it’s not, like last night. I’m in pain, and I make the worst decision. I’m sure Virgil can tell you about that when I adopted him. Poor little guy

But you know who makes me particularly jealous? The living? Who I should be. Inspector, it’s the dead… a horrible idea. And no, I don’t want to be a zombie. But last night, my eye… And no, I’m not in love with the dead. There are some dark, twisted places, Inspector. Zombies, though, are my favorite type of apocalypse. The only world I could handle, Echo. You laugh? I mean… I can’t take people now. But at least zombies only have one mission unless we’re talking about that “famous” novel by S Wolf. Good times. Inspector, I’m jealous of everyone else’s good times. But that’s on me. I’ll own it. And I’m jealous of Virgil dreaming of “A Place Called Home.” Hey Jealous V, Braxton

976 Days Without B III, Day 417 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 088 ~On B…eing Back, Virgil~

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Nothing on my back, holding me back, or pushing me back. If I moved forward on everything like I did… ending B III’s suffering. Hell! I should be on my back for that instead of sitting on my ass. A zombie trying to get back. “On B…eing Back, Virgil.”

Wednesday, September 27, 2023

Tale 088 ~On B…eing Back, Virgil~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now… and “I’m never going back again.” To being broke, Inspector. Depends on how you define broke.

I would have paid anything. Hell! I would have gone full-on John Q to save my son’s life, Inspector. Virgil is lucky if I consider buying him a new, comfy spot. I’m broke. Considering it’s Saturday, September 23, 2023, I will be soon. But the Day Job hours… I’ve never blamed anyone for Braxton’s death… besides myself and the Day Job taking me away. I never came back, you know. My Braxton is love, and the Day Job left me nothing but RAGE. And so I would come back exhausted. But not really. In thinking I was protecting my son, I would get stuck in a place known as indifference, dear Echo. And I have yet to come back from Braxton’s Euthanasia. I’m Still Standing

By the time you read this, it will have been 969 days. I could have spent every single one in bed. There were times Triple B was watching me trying to… Well, pills were taken. Only I survived. And if it wasn’t my Depression, it was laziness; nothing new, Inspector. Except the pain got worse. A broken heart, a befuddled mind. And my behind Inspector. Honest to God, that’s how long I’ve been sitting here, Inspector. I lament that one way or another, I will have to break my back, and for what? With B III, it made sense. And yes, Virgil is still here. But I need bug repellent, light bulbs, and new pants. I could go, Inspector. But I don’t want to ever.

Family? You want an honest confession. How long have I been here? My thirties, Inspector. And when was the last time I had RELATIONS? I had the maid in bed once. But that wasn’t the question, and she and I never. Braxton wouldn’t have minded if it had been his aunt. My honorary sister, mind you. But Braxton loves her, and I was shallow Inspector Echo. So I haven’t had RELATIONS in years, for all intents and purposes. There are life goals. Even now, I want to own an adult business, you know. Lying here, Inspector, always. Please! That would require getting off my back. So I can see women on theirs. Inspector, Am I Wrong? Zombie returning to the living? On B…eing Back, Virgil

969 Days Without B III, Day 410 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 081 ~B’s In Art Virgil~

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“The metal is ready for the Maker’s hand.” I am not an artist. I cannot make another Braxton. I’m not helping to make babies. And what about books? Between the tags I’m writing, titles for blog posts, and Titanic… um, never mind. “B’s In Art Virgil.”

Wednesday, September 20, 2023

Tale 081 ~B’s In Art Virgil~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now… so I’ll commission someone to paint “Backwards Beauty” for real. What do I know about art?

Well, I’m thirty-nine. Wow! Inspector, it hurts about as much as saying Braxton is dead. I go back and forth. But I know that the death of my son is worse. Right behind that is being born. And falling in third, for now… anything to do with my Enormous… umm… Anyway, so art? As I told Dear Future Wife, Braxton is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I may not be a smart man… Go on! But after you see someone like that. Hell! I can’t blame him for not getting back into writing. I wrote three or four books after his death/murder. No wonder I got the damaged or maybe fragile Virgil. I can’t be responsible for destroying anything so beautiful again.

And then bring on The Pic Phenomenon. Did I mention I’m not writing much, Inspector? That’s even when I have “inspiration” for a leading lady. I told one of the girls that these unsavory types don’t want “my” money. I’m not STUPID enough to give them a credit card. But they do allow me to create two pictures a day. Wins and losses, Inspector Echo.

A particular girl would be upset, but I’ve done worse. I was up late last night for several reasons. Not only this one. I was doing business with some more people. And even after buying the product, I haven’t used any of it. You see why I “steal adult entertainment.” Hell! My son’s dead. The freeloader’s here. But yes, Yabbos.

If there is a God… Yeah, the last time I tried talking to him, her, or it, Braxton lay dying. The point is such a force put more thought into Yabbos than my existence. Future? Sacrifice! Most noble if I have anything to say about it. To be made in such an image? “If there’s a God up there. Somethin’ above.” Is he paying Lucifer for temptation or what, huh? I wouldn’t be surprised. But I know what I’d pick if God came down, breast in one hand, Braxton in the other. “Now, with these hands, with these hands,” Inspector. Generating tags every day, what do I ask for? I can’t paint; there’s no prose. And to pet Braxton again… Beautiful, B’s In Art Virgil.

962 Days Without B III, Day 403 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 074 ~Don’t B Jealous, Virgil~

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Jealous? I can be far worse and, dare I say, greater. Can I ever be happy? I can’t tell you the last time I was. But I’m sure it was on some E-Day. And now that the thirty-ninth has passed… Geez, B III, how did you do fifteen? Don’t B Jealous, Virgil

Wednesday, September 13, 2023

Tale 074 ~Don’t B Jealous, Virgil~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I’m sure that involves all my sins. Treachery, Lust, Sloth, Wrath, Greed, Envy, Pride… More?

I still don’t see myself as a prideful person. My grandma told me I was. Considering how much I despise E-Day, I was “proud” to have a tray of cupcakes for myself. I did share… eventually. I talk to you and the rest of the girls. And for some inane reason. I think that someone is reading. There’s also the fact that if I dropped dead right now (fingers crossed). I want to believe that someone would care that wasn’t furry with four legs. Please!

Braxton was jealous that I began putting all my sins above him. Wanting the world to feel my wrath gave way to my Treachery. My betrayal of my firstborn son. And Virgil has every right to be jealous of Braxton.

But what do I know about fur babies, as I failed Braxton? And even if I were right, it’s not Virgil’s envy that’s in question but my own. All last night, it was, “Hey Jealousy.”

Why am I so into audiobooks? And, of course, the Day Job started forbidding earbuds. Can I give them the cupcakes back? Honest to God, I seek not happiness but the strength to endure. A moment in my existence, I don’t court death itself, Inspector.

Only it’s happiness that brings me to you, OK? Yep time-travel Sunday, September 10, 2023. Last night, I saw that Samantha and TBR Schmitt welcomed their daughter to the world. It was Madison’s birthday from MAC React. And isn’t she expecting a baby too? Wow!

Me and other people’s happiness. I should be ashamed, as I’ve been asking every day this month as I turned thirty-nine. What have you done? Not a damn thing, Inspector. And as the critic asked today… really. What is E-day? Emergence, Existence, Extinction? But let me try again. E-day is the day I was born. Inspector, nothing happy about it.

No girls are jealous, considering most are animated. I am bouncing back and forth between Koumi-jima Shuu 7 de Umeru Mesu-tachi and Himawari wa Yoru ni Saku. But if you want real, @bunnie_wifey vs. Momokun. Lust is right up there.

But jealous? That Braxton found death first, without me. “Drunk all and left no drop to help me after.” Being me. Don’t B Jealous, Virgil.

955 Days Without B III, Day 396 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 067 ~Bye Braxton, Buy Virgil~

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I was pretty young, buying my first Fleshlight, a camera, and… well, I must have been. Now, I’d have to have express delivery for anything I want for E-Day. Not like Heaven… or Hell delivers. The Olds have bad news. V’s quiet. Bye Braxton, Buy Virgil

Wednesday, September 6, 2023

Tale 067 ~Bye Braxton, Buy Virgil~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or should I call myself a thief? Inspector, I’m far worse. A liar, a manipulator… murderer?

“Why can’t I just be normal?” Can’t I play Far Cry 5 or watch a movie as E-Day approaches? Um? I could buy a PS5. I didn’t say that? And even if I were for real, I wouldn’t make time to play it. I’m not even watching “Home Security Guard 2” after downloading it. Inspector, it’s still Sunday, September 3, 2023. I’m still “Turning Japanese,” I really think so. But we’ll get to that. I keep saying that, Inspector, and there’s Emergence Day. God, I wish I could say more about this existence. And you know what I want more than Braxton back. Extinction? But no, Inspector, I’m sitting here napping, procrastinating, etc. At least Virgil’s still alive and well. I paid for Braxton’s… Euthanasia.

But let’s talk about what I’ve been buying on the second worst day existing, Inspector. As I’ve said, I’ve been looking at what the critic likes and dislikes: languages sometimes. Anyway, I don’t know who I’m paying. Russians, Japanese, the greedy Republicans with their “kinks.” Either way, I’m not a good person. Hell! I’m even keeping my pants on, ha. There’s this place right here. I’m sitting in bed, not working on escaping the Day Job. But I want to talk. And I want the critic to say whatever about my speech, even with corrections. And I mentioned something about some nasty chicken I bought, but it wasn’t Pizza Hut. I don’t expect Braxton’s Aunt to buy me a pizza for E-Day again. Good girl.

I don’t want to think about what I will buy on E-Day. When Braxton was here, there was always food and even cake. There could be a full night’s sleep, Inspector. Though being the greedy so-and-so I am, I always want more. Emergence, Existence, Extinction, uh? Anytime would be good to join my boy. And with what the Olds might say about their son at thirty-nine that has done absolutely nothing with the existence they permitted… Inspector, I am afraid. That’s something else I can’t get for E-Day. Love and happiness, peace of mind, Echo. There’s also the idea of a piece of… again, the critic, censorship, and cowardice. Inspector, I can’t say goodbye or buy my way out of this. Time remains priceless, Inspector.

948 Days Without B III, Day 389 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 060 ~E-Day Fools Virgil, B~

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I meant to explain what E-Day is? Hell! I can’t explain why I get out of bed in the morning. I’d like to say for fifteen years, it was because Braxton needed me to. Or my Olds said so. There’s Virgil. He’s still alive, I exist. E-Day Fools Virgil, B.

Wednesday, August 30, 2023

Tale 060 ~E-Day Fools Virgil, B~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Which means I don’t have to EVOLVE. Republicans haven’t. And you know what B stands for…

Emergence? Wait, that doesn’t start with a B. But instead of talking about Braxton’s death. Let me be a selfish “person” since it’s my day. Well, counting today, it will be in T-minus 9 days. Then again, I’m time-traveling. And I’ve already screwed up with my critic on being clear, concise, and making my case. The comedian is dead. I should be, but here goes…

What is E-Day? Again, let us begin with Emergence and why I won’t vote Republican. With women, I’m Pro-Choice. Let women do whatever they want. But with my Ma… sigh. Come E-Day, she should have done some thinking. And that’s an insult, I know, Inspector. Both me and my younger sister were C-sections. She wanted us here alive and well.

Existence for me, though… If I had my way… I would not recommend it. Like ever. I try my hardest not to say words like life or live. That is not what this is, Inspector. Questions such as What is my favorite movie, set of mammaries, type of music, etc., Echo. I couldn’t tell you any of it. But right above that line, “Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin'” from The Band Perry. There’s “Feeling super, super (super!) suicidal” from Marina and The Diamonds, Teen Idle. And God, I know Inspector, turning thirty-nine. And what have I done? Or rather, why have I done nothing but exist, Inspector? My greatest accomplishment was my son Braxton. I thought I was being selfish today. Right?

Extinction though? Erasure, euthanasia… Hell! Evil! My boy should be here. And how dare I even think that he was the lucky one. I don’t disrespect my Ma, Little B, and how about myself. Uh. I disrespect myself all the time. But I don’t get off light Echo, not ever. I’m not a man of faith, but as the song goes, “Everybody wanna go to heaven. But nobody wants to die.” I want to Inspector. But this is Hell, and I am right where I belong. Only I cry out, “What’s my crime!” Which is worse? I was around seven or eight, asking, “What the Hell is going on?” Or killing my best friend at thirty-six?” Doesn’t matter; I’m still breathing. E-Day Fools Virgil, B

941 Days Without B III, Day 382 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 053 ~B’s DIE Job Virgil~

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So much red ink in school. Gray hairs in my beard… I’m too old to have my Olds signing checks for me. The most official thing I’ve signed is for the death of my firstborn son. And his little tan hairs are replaced with white ones. B’s DIE Job Virgil

Wednesday, August 23, 2023

Tale 053 ~B’s DIE Job Virgil~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I’d say anything or do anything… Other than saying my boy’s dead or killing him…

Again? But as I approach thirty-nine, that’s the only thing I can hold as an accomplishment —the stuff on “my” Bucket List. I want to be in love. And I want to know what It’s like to kill… thank you, Eli Roth. Am I better off than The 40-Year-Old Virgin… There have been girls. A lot… Why aren’t I a billionaire already? And have I paid for sex? Do I need a priest? Uh, we’ll get to that Inspector. But on the subject of death. The only one that’s come close to my wrath looks at me in the mirror every morning. Why are we talking about this this morning? Afternoon, considering time travel. Today is Thursday, August 17, 2023. But on Sunday, January 31, 2021. Braxton’s Fire and Blood.

Must I be so dramatic? And as if I could be like George R. R. Martin. Aren’t I a writer? Inspector, this whole damn month, I’ve felt like “Comic Book Guy” on The Simpsons. Oh!

How many days have I spent writing, and for what? It’s not fear, Inspector… Laziness. This is one more reason I’m not a doctor. Well, a scientist. Suppose you asked me for specifics besides me being STUPID. Inspector, I’ve looked into Virology. Zombie Virus? Solanum? Maybe I do need a priest. But I would never become one. Once upon a time, someone said I would become a preacher. I only had a use for God with two things, you know. To save my son. And for sex… How’s the brothel?

I’m not ashamed of saying I wanted to be Dennis Hof, Hugh Hefner, Larry Flynt. A particular photographer. Or The Most Talented Man In The World, Johnny Sins. My God! Inspector, what am I going to do? I still have a few weeks if I’m lucky. Will my Olds call? I wouldn’t blame them at all. My entire 30s have been one freaking disappointment, Echo. Hell! This existence. What am I, Inspector? The only comfort Braxton had was my love. And that only gets you so far. Again, look to my Olds. A son with a part-time Day Job who writes. All their checks vs. my words. One last job? Ruin me and Braxton’s existences. Virgil’s here, white hairs replacing brown/beige/tan. B’s DIE Job Virgil

934 Days Without B III, Day 375 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 046 ~Virgil, We’ll Be Listening~

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What big ears you have. Is the hole in the fence bigger? Is the phone loud enough.? Then there’s Virgil, who never makes a sound unless I walk out the door. How long do the neighbors have to listen to him? If I will. “Virgil, We’ll Be Listening”

Wednesday, August 16, 2023

Tale 046 ~Virgil, We’ll Be Listening~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. So I haven’t been complaining about my ears, the fence, Virgil vomiting on the phone… Uh?

Hell! I should be ashamed that it took him “almost” doing that to get my attention to do something. And after a few days, how is life for him now? If anything, the fact that he’s alive after one year here. Gotcha Day wasn’t big, ha. He had a bath and brush. A new bed? No! If I’m going to spend money… It’s going towards putting my firstborn, my Braxton, in a box. And what about the new one I’m supposed to be buying? If I had money… And that would take getting out of bed. Or how about, I don’t know. Trying to be happy. Is that from B? I wasn’t happy when he was here, but I was better. And then his silence.

What I wouldn’t give for a bout of silence. If anything, shouldn’t this be the most humiliating thing in existence? The fact that I still talk to myself. Imaginary friends. Pretending? At least with Braxton, I could pretend. But even saying V’s name these days. And that’s if I’m not busy moaning… It’s more like I let the girls I watch moan in one way or another. But I’m trying, Inspector. Every day, it gets a little bit “harder.” Really! Considering I’m time traveling now, Monday, August 14, 2023. It’s been 17 days for now. That’s all the bellyaching. Or rather, belly scraping, you’ll hear from me. Not even edging. But there is plenty to be upset about since we’re talking now. The Day Job?

Can I listen to the instructions at work? Don’t be STUPID. I’m not a visual guy there. But all about the visual lady’s Yabbos, but she’s gone. At least she told me she was leaving for a time. God knows I wish I could leave forever. Take from that what you will, Echo, I know. And speaking of which, the things I’ve been saying or, more to the fact, what I’ve been writing about. Will you please understand, Inspector? My mind is about three things. There’s my boys —namely Braxton. There’s making bucks. And, of course, anything to do with making babies. Oh! These three things are like a mixed drink that “messes” me up. 99 Problems. Virgil, me, B’s ghost. Virgil, We’ll Be Listening

927 Days Without B III, Day 368 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 039 ~Virgil, Braxton Aged Out~

WillLeave a comment

I’m getting too old for this shit. To be living off my Olds. The kids will be on my lawn as the fence falls. When was the last time I got laid? I can’t afford to be a sugar daddy. Fur kids and Depression. But how can that be? Virgil, Braxton Aged Out

Wednesday, August 9, 2023

Tale 039 ~Virgil, Braxton Aged Out~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. And other lies I don’t want to hear. Hell! The truth, too. Be positive, happy, thirty-eight.

Because thirty-nine is fast approaching. And what am I going to do with that? I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but does Ron DeSantis have a point about Shakespeare? I’m thinking Romeo + Juliet, to be honest. There’s Thirteen Reasons Why’s “Hannah Baker” and Robert Frobisher from Cloud Atlas. Three teens and a grown-ass man. What did they do? Love? Getting screwed over, literally. Must I be so vulgar? And the world’s coming down. The last few mornings, I have awoken with more tears than usual, Inspector. The thought? Can I say it already? Well, according to my critic, I can’t. EVER! I’m learning to hate reading and writing again. What I read makes me cry, and what I write makes other people. I suck!

And don’t I sound like some teenager? Braxton was fifteen, which is all grown up. Inspector that’s going by fur buddy standards. I doubt I have such resolve to stay. Inspector. Braxton fought tooth and nail to stay. Why can’t I do the same? Exhaustion… The fence is ready to give way any second. How old is it? I think I was thirty-two when Braxton and I moved here… No! I’m sorry. We were placed. Living with my Olds. Sad. While I’m speaking like an old white guy, Mr. Trump. Problems of the past are rushing into the future. To see black people fight against that tide. Montgomery Riverfront Brawl. Meanwhile, I’ve been at my Day Job for how long? If not my Dad. Braxton…

The Day Job would be another good reason not to get up again. Echo, it’s incredible that I can do that with this mattress. Yet where am I right now? Why don’t I leave today? Looking at the clock, it’s past eight, meaning Virgil needs to go outside. The fence? Inspector, I was about to say these glasses are old, but these are only from a year ago. The old ones? Yeah, the ones I had when I would look upon my son. What must I look like now to him? I’m older but no wiser. Because again, something from last year, uh, that’s V. His Gotcha Day is Sunday. So, Petsmart on Saturday? Maybe? The shame, like Braxton dying, remember? Virgil, Braxton Aged Out

920 Days Without B III, Day 361 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 032 ~To Braxton, Virgil, Cheers~

WillLeave a comment

“I want a new drug.” Not anesthetizing like the Day Job. That’s if I’m not sweating bullets with my anxiety. And there’s bloody zombie movies. Turning “mountains” into snow-covered peaks… Eww! Or crying my eyes out over B. To Braxton, Virgil, Cheers

Wednesday, August 2, 2023

Tale 032 ~To Braxton, Virgil, Cheers~

Forgive Me, Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. But the last “drinks” I bought were for Braxton’s Aunt. She knows I’m a lightweight drinker.

Plus, despite everything, I’ll wallow in my grief and depression; thanks, Inspector. I end up crying five out of seven days anyway for various reasons. Braxton, for the most part. I am still considering again; I am time traveling. Today is Monday, July 24, 2023, so I talked to Madam J. And “Dear Future Wife” earlier. Talk about Chronomentrophobia. More like Chronophobia. I don’t even remember who I was talking to about that (sigh). Anyway, we’ll get to that. All I know is, at the moment, I want to drink until I pass out. Braxton is as good of an excuse as any. What if V fell down the stairs where he now sits? With me as a “friend,” he could use a drink, right?

But know this. Dear Inspector, the only one who needs or deserves any “pain” in their existence is me. And yes, I know, I’ve been quoting this Taylor Swift line plenty. “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” The last thing I need to do is start drinking. If I want to throw up, I’ll go to Pizza Hut. Inspector, I’m surprised I can even get anything into my mouth. The way I’ve been spittin’ these days. Hell! I should say spitting, considering how pathetic I’ve been. The Critic? They’ve been quiet. Again, I’m time traveling, so by the time they read this… Inspector, I will be in no mood to care, considering I’ll be sweating bullets. Dangerous… Let’s focus on work and my overwhelming anxiety. Effing Day Job.

I want to cry every time I bother to look at the clock. I swear, next to the Man In The Mirror. There are those red numbers on the clock. I jump whenever I hear the phone go off. If it’s not a Facebook hacker, then it’s some alarm I’ve set to keep me moving. Being productive? The mirror, phone, the Day Job, uh Virgil. Why am I being a meanie, Echo? It’s like things that make me burst into tears for 500. Blood, sweat, and tears? What else, let me see… Better yet, NOOOO! NO! Because some girl is going to make the list. Then… Chances are I’ve broken, but again, who knows? Is alcohol a better vice? You think? To Braxton, Virgil, Cheers

913 Days Without B III, Day 354 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will