Tale 279 ~Booking Braxton and Virgil~

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

Friday, April 5, 2024

Tale 279 ~Booking Braxton and Virgil~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 278 ~Virgil Saves The B’s~

It’s not V’s job to save me. B on the other paw? He wanted to protect me from people, my pa, and the pretend characters in all the books I read. And now I’m pretending that Braxton can read and write, too? Not that Virgil speaks. Virgil Saves The B’s

Thursday, April 4, 2024

Tale 278 ~Virgil Saves The B’s~

1159 Days Without B III, Day 600 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Any day I’m not at the Day Job… I don’t even know. What did we do with days off? Hmm.

I’ll have to look it up. I suppose. But let’s start with something simpler. Do you remember when I read the book Stroke of Midnight: A Cinderella Novel by K Webster? In a way, I hope you don’t. We were boys, but I tried to protect you from that sort of thing. My only son. And I need to stop saying that with Virgil here. But try as he may, Virgil brings no comfort, Braxton. Take, for example, me reading Golden Son. Sleeping off tragedy.

Inevitable? Who am I to say? I stopped as things weren’t looking great for Darrow. Yes, Braxton, I hear you. This isn’t what I want to talk about today. If anything, it’s this B III. I want to give you the chance to speak today. But what words can you offer with everything going on?

I couldn’t save you, and now, instead of letting you rest, I ask you to save me. How many times have you done that in your 15 years on Earth? And how many times has Virgil done it in 600 days? So, over a year and a half? But I’m failing him too, B III.

Dad,
You need it. More than those three little words you would always tell me about. It would be these: YOU NEED IT! Imagine me saying that in barks. You wouldn’t listen to me then. But I’m trying to be nicer now because you need it—and not like that. Ha! I miss my Aunt.

What I mean is this: You need the rest. And I have lots to share with eternity, Dad. Too much.

Is that my way of saying that Virgil isn’t me reincarnated? I’m sorry, Daddy, honest. Today, you don’t need to read anything else to make you sad. And if it’s not words, it’s other things. And you’re right, I don’t know what to do. But if anything, Dad, know this.

Don’t join me. Not yet, anyway. Remember everything that you promised me? I see it.

I’ll be as tall as a king, remember? And I worry about my people. Well, I worry about my human.

I love you,
B III

I can’t ask Virgil, and talking to myself is ill-advised. Scary? But that was something, Braxton. Virgil Saves The B’s

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 277 ~Framing Virgil For Braxton~

As I said last week, I hope I canceled Balance. I can’t blame Virgil if I lose $70.00, like I didn’t blame him for losing money to Audible. Now getting a bath at PetSmart… I’m a “good dad…” Yeah, ask Braxton about that one. Framing Virgil For Braxton

Wednesday, April 3, 2024

Tale 277 ~Framing Virgil For Braxton~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. I wonder if this week started any better than the one now. Time Travel, Wednesday, March 27, 2024.

At least today, the humiliation has been mine alone. Um? If anybody read our conversation. Now, I’ll share with you one of my lesser sins. Bet Virgil doesn’t think so.

My firstborn son, my soul dog, my Braxton, has been gone three long years. Nobody at PetSmart would remember his grooming sessions. But how many has Virgil had of late?

I don’t think of Virgil much, which is a crime in and of itself. But as I sat in the parking lot waiting for them to call, I thought this. “If they hurt Virgil, I’ll burn the whole place down.”

Inspector, the love… not quite yet. Instead, the courage, duty, and honor to protect Virgil. But the only heat Monday of last week was my embarrassment with my eagerness to see him Safe and Sound. At least, that’s what I want to say. My McDonald’s food was getting cold in the car. How selfish can I be, Inspector? Oh, we’ll get there, don’t you worry.

Inspector, speaking of humiliation, I remember Braxton running to me after getting groomed. Yes. He’d be mad, but I was his dad, and He’s My Son. And there was love.

Inspector, Virgil looked at me as if he didn’t know me at all. And I had to pretend I had all those fatherly feelings when I picked him up. There’s no loyalty, love… um, like?

Dante’s Inferno? Do you think Dante and Virgil were friends? What have I done, Echo?

That same ole question. Right?

I asked it that hot, sunny day in August as I first sat Virgil Vivi down in the car. I asked it when I picked up what was left of B III some afternoon in February. I asked it again on Sunday, January 31, 2021, when he was dying. But he wanted to come home with me. And I failed.

Where is my boy? Why, he’s right here in years’ worth of pictures to show that I’m a “good father.” I’m waiting to pick him up so I can ignore the flood that destroyed the floor Braxton walked on. The back fence that Braxton defended always. And the foolish one who is guilty of so many crimes that I get embarrassed by anything and everything.

Criminal! Framing Virgil For Braxton.

1158 Days Without B III, Day 599 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 272 ~Virgil, B, Free Stories~

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

Friday, March 29, 2024

Tale 272 ~Virgil, B, Free Stories~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 271 ~V’s Language To B~

It’s harder to lie if you can’t speak. Or if you’re crazy. Then there’s the gibberish. I could also talk or not about the dog speak. I clap at Virgil’s successes and hope he gets right from wrong. Like me? It takes language skills… V’s Language To B.

Thursday, March 28, 2024

Tale 271 ~V’s Language To B~

1152 Days Without B III, Day 593 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Do you remember asking about mine? No. I’d fall asleep while you would stand guard.

I don’t want to cry today. And to be clear, it’s Wednesday, March 20, 2024. So yes, Braxton, the Day Job is still rough. Indeed, this entire existence, which everyone considers Easy Street, is… Well, Hell! And not one person understands Braxton. Oh! I don’t talk and such, THEY say.

You aren’t a person. But you were far from a pet. And a pal? B, you are always my son.

And I miss talking to you. I miss having someone who understands me being here. Braxton, that’s what I’ve been thinking about over the past few days. I swear! Computers, critics! Company? No one I’ve invited has been here in a long time. Virgil Vivi? Inevitably, we’ll have to talk. But now breathing is enough.

And at the same time, too much. How can one be so quiet and, at the same time, so loud?

It’s safer to choose the former. That’s why I talk to you, the girls, and the man in the mirror. But even then, there’s The Critic. And either THEY think I’m depressed or I can’t be understood. I would even take being crazy if THEY at least got me. Contradictions!

And don’t get me started on censorship. If I wanted to say a dirty word, why not this one, Braxton? “Euthanasia.” It was the last misunderstanding between us. You didn’t understand why you were leaving. And I’ve never bought into such a clinical term, B.

You didn’t disappear. You didn’t. You only died. And I would have followed you. My son. My lieutenant. My prince.

Now you and I know where all that is from, Braxton. But I won’t even bother with The Critic. THEY won’t ever get it. But again, I want everyone to know. I’m not like Cherry.

Braxton, you are much smarter than I am. You understood why I was writing all the time… for us. So you could appreciate Cherry’s work. We knew cantaloupes and melons.

Virgil, on the other hand. I need to learn his language because I’m ready to give up on people and their creations. I don’t know how to communicate with them. While I’m spending money not to talk. How much are animal communicators? You’re gone. Virgil’s not. V’s Language To B

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 270 ~V’s For Void, Braxton~

I’m going to have to cancel Balance this week. And why not cancel gravity and fly straight to Heaven. I’m going to miss that Off to Neverland stratagem. And I should stop watching Helldivers 2. Anything to fill the void of time. V’s For Void, Braxton

Wednesday, March 27, 2024

Tale 270 ~V’s For Void, Braxton~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. And my latest, my greatest inspiration for sin is leaving my boy, my son, Braxton, devoid of life.

Hmm. That’s one more way of saying unaliving or committing the unthinkable, dear Inspector. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about doing that to myself. I swear.

There’s this motivational video I like to listen to called “Waking Up at 4:00 AM Every Day Will Change Your Life.” But by 5:00 AM, I was asleep and hoping I could be with B.

That’s what I call “it.” Because of censorship, critics, and Virgil lying on the covers. Anytime. It’s the desirable action of wanting to fill the void left by Braxton’s absence.

Inspector, that’s what I was reading about when I wasn’t wasting time… Uh! Let’s say… I was researching a UK slang term for “Relations.” Then I needed a nap… Then

Time Has Come Today, Ha-Ha!

Next to my heart, the biggest void in this existence is time. And I fill that with three things. My son, sleep, and things that have me squirming in bed slug-like Inspector. You know how…

I know, Eww! If I’m going to talk about that, I should write a story about it. Like somebody famous? But as I’ve been talking about Echo, I’ve been reading Healing Hearts and Golden Son. After that, I will return to reading Eric Vall and Logan Jacobs. How I do enjoy filling my head and my sweatpants with such nonsense. But you can look at the world, my dear Echo.

Space Junk seems more fitting than staying here another day. Into the blackness, to B.

Earth and water are indeed no prize. Oh, the ways I have tried to fill the void, Echo. Take, for example, the Alphabet. A for Archie, which was Virgil’s name before he came here. There is nothing between B and V. That’s Braxton and Virgil. And then W for writing.

When it comes to Earth, I’ve been watching a lot of Helldivers 2. I watch soldiers fight for “Super Earth” and gaming territories. While I struggle for real, trying to hold up the back fence.

How many times have I cried this week? How many times have I bothered to shower, Inspector? Then there’s the sweat when Virgil isn’t around, and AI tells me stories.

Existence should be null and void. V’s For Void, Braxton

1151 Days Without B III, Day 592 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 265 ~Virgil Booked Fairytales, Braxton~

While in school, I read lots because whatever was in the textbooks… Maybe I was lucky, considering how the GOP/GQP wants to teach now. Still, my days are filled with avoiding such lessons. But the books I read… “Virgil Booked Fairytales Braxton”

Friday, March 22, 2024

Tale 265 ~Virgil Booked Fairytales, Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Fiction or Nonfiction? Memoir or a lie? If anything, I wish it was a better tale.

Read banned books, THEY say. Sophia, you wouldn’t find the books I read in a school library. Hmm. Since I’ve been keeping up with my reading… Twenty-four books in 2019.

I got twenty-three in 2020. That was Braxton’s last full year. 2021, I read fifty-seven…

And how many of those were about grieving my boy? Six! Seven if you count “A Different Alchemy.” That was about a father who was mourning his son who was “unalive,” as THEY say these days. By his wife and “others,” no less. Should I read that again, my Lady?

That’s what brings me to you today. That and a Day Job I don’t want to talk or read about.

For the record, Sophia, today is Sunday, March 17, 2024.

Whenever I read my Day Job schedule, I feel… I have no words. Uh? I do, but none of them would be great. Truest sentences, maybe, but when has the truth been worth reading? With some these days, I ask.

Anyway, this is about yours truly. “Today is all about you.” Please, Sophia! There’s Virgil. I’m watching him sleep. But when I signed my name on the dotted line… Isn’t this what every fur baby dreams of? The end of the story. They go to a safe and happy home.

Virgil would have instead had me walk away rather than keep filling out forms and taking responsibility—or not, considering most of our days involve me lying in bed with a book. I did that with Braxton. But he was getting old. And me, sigh?

There’s also the fact that I was LESS lazy. I made it to the couch/loveseat 99% of the time, Sophia. And reading was easier. In 2022, I read 55 books. Nearly all of them were about grieving. The rest was Kindle taking money, giving Virgil his name, and upholding a Christmas tradition. This year and last are much the same, but add in my laziness.

And as far as fairies, witches, elves, demons, orcs, and more, sans their clothing, Sophia.

But what should I be reading? I finished “Backyard Dungeon 7,” so this whole week… There’s book eight. I won “Never Be Alone” and bought “Golden Son.” But there’s Braxton.

I’m grieving. There aren’t happy endings for “The Ones Who Live.” Virgil Booked Fairytales Braxton

1146 Days Without B III, Day 587 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 264 ~Will B Painful Virgil~

“Cause all you ever say is “What’s the point?”” I could try that on the critics, but THEY never get me. B would. And even if he didn’t, I liked that look he’d give me. That “Seriously, Dad!” It pains me; I’ll never see it again. Will B Painful Virgil

Thursday, March 21, 2024

Tale 264 ~Will B Painful Virgil~

1145 Days Without B III, Day 586 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? You know how my days are. Nine times out of ten, I’m bleeding and broken.

It’s one of the reasons I always washed my hands before touching you. Blood, sweat, and tears. You didn’t understand how the world is, Braxton. But you were prepared. Ready!

And I’m sure you know now from wherever you are. The Rainbow Bridge, Heaven, Hell?

That’s one of the things that I have yet to hear from you. Where’d You Go? But you’ve been speaking to me more from books than whatever I have booming on the phone, B III.

It pains me to say I don’t remember all of it. And it’s only been a few hours, Golden Son.

B III, the second most painful thing this week (losing you is first). But saying what I need to Say. I mean, every single day.

I am. Braxton, I’m trying. But according to the critic and everybody else, I’m everything. Everything but understood. That could be why you’re trying to use the words in books instead of music. But I’ve been thinking about this sad song. Even by Julien Baker

Braxton, it was in that movie Spontaneous. It was the first film I remember watching after you were gone. Now, how could such a Black Comedy make me smile? Hmm.

Anyway, I figured it out. Everything is connected, B. You and me, always and forever.

In what I was reading this morning, Evey said she hadn’t felt pleasure. But the absence of pain. With missing you, it’s not the pain I want gone. I want it evened out over everything.

Which leads me to Virgil. Yes, he was mentioned, too. I keep telling you, Braxton. Like when The Man Comes Around, everything else does. Connections, communication, and this comedy are my existence without you. “Lost as Dante before Virgil.”

Keeping Virgil is spreading out my pain. The sadness and loneliness. Anything physical, I will bear myself. That’s why I freaked out when he was sick. That’s not his punishment.

But my happiness or any pleasure… I can make believe. Happiness doesn’t exist for me.

Pleasure, however, if defined as the absence of pain… That dream can come true, Braxton.

And you might be the only one who understands. Because I can hear the critic right now saying… “What?” Me talking Will B Painful Virgil

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

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 263 ~Virgil Won’t B Silent~

What are the dead trying to say? I can see and hear Braxton everywhere. Meanwhile, Virgil… Well, I know he needs to go outside. But he won’t make a sound. The things we choose to hear. I listen to dead men, me and my boys. Virgil Won’t B Silent.

Wednesday, March 20, 2024

Tale 263 ~Virgil Won’t B Silent~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Do I have time to make a list? It’s only 7:30 AM. Braxton’s gone, I’m afraid, The Matrix…

As the song goes, “First let me explain that I’m just a black man.” Nearly forty at that, Inspector. I’m getting old in the world, so I don’t hear so well. “When You Were Young?” Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Inspector. What I didn’t hear was Trinity from “The Matrix.”

“The Oracle told me that I would fall in love and that that man… the man that I loved would be The One.” The Matrix

I swear! I heard her say I would fall in love with a dead man. When it comes to my son, my Braxton. I have. He’s been gone 1144 days, and I haven’t stopped. Always and forever, Inspector. Please stop me before I go looking up every song about love. But if you want to know today’s song, it’s “Anyone Who Knows What Love Is.” You know, 15 Million Merits.

Love didn’t wake me up.

No, my dearest Inspector. It was fear—and not the fear of Virgil being sick again. My dream instead was simple. I was outside with Virgil, and this black cat I’d seen prowling around came at him. And I was paralyzed. Yet I quaked with fear for his young life.

Was it love when I heard him cry out to be saved? I’m surprised I heard him yelp at all.

That brings me to today. I may have heard Virgil’s call, but I always listen for B III. Well… except for when he needed me most. His voice, like my love, has only grown.

Madness! “Am I Wrong?” I hear Braxton in music. I see what he’d say in manuscripts. Dreaming on this mattress…

But I’ve never dreamt about Virgil until today when I was supposed to wake up…

Inspector, it could be so much worse. I dream about girls “laid” in all these books. The loaded-up binder and folder I once had of pinups and centerfolds. Girls lying on screen, ha-ha. Now they’re all on a flash drive or some hidden file. Because one living that wants me…

It’s better to have visions. There are many voracious fantasies online. Or let’s live to be victims of some zombie apocalypse so I can find one. Fewer options prove successful…

But not for V. I was dead when I found him, and now he dies. Not like that Echo, geez!

Both of us breathing, Inspector. Because Virgil Won’t B Silent.

1144 Days Without B III, Day 585 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 258 ~Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil~

To be continued? In this existence. I’m tempted to say those are the worst words ever written. But no, those are, Goodbye, Braxton, I love you. Then, Good Morning V. Then, people at the Day Job. And these typing fingers. “Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil.”

Friday, March 15, 2024

Tale 258 ~Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Or better yet, learn English. And how about Math? Or telling time. Friday, March 8, 2024

And here we are again. First, I should let you know that Virgil is feeling better… Don’t count your chickens, right? But he’s stopped “being sick.” Only I never learn. I shared some fries with him. And considering what happened at McDonald’s. Be very afraid.

Only not of the storm outside. I can’t believe I was out there and all for a fish meal. Hmm.

This morning, you had to read all about my anger. But this afternoon, there’s fear.

Inevitable, right? Like all the mistakes I make. For example, the worst pain I’ve felt.

Watching my son die is worse than anything I’ve ever written. My Braxton is dead. Sophia, the next thing would be waking up every day. “Throw The Covers” over me.

After that? You can see what I’m doing now: writing about a future I don’t want to see. But, being honest, I am sitting in this bed waiting to die. And it hurts. Oh, how it hurts, Sophia! One more day to read and write about how much of a failure this existence has become.

Sophia, sigh, I can’t tell you what book I’m wasting my time with next. Whatever.

Learning isn’t my highest priority because every word and number makes me feel even worse about myself. Why do you think I read so much about grieving fur babies, Sophia? I get to cry, and books in the HaremLit genre get other bodily fluids out of me. I know, gross! And again, Math books… suffering. But at least I get to cry some more today.

Virgil’s not dying. But what about that trip to the groomers that I promised him?

Breaking another promise, like when I promised to save Braxton’s life. Even before that. I said that writing would be our future. And I might have time, checking my schedule…

But it’s too late for B now. And even if I wrote the best book, what would it be for? So that I could afford to pay sixteen dollars for a fish sandwich. Instead of eight and being humiliated by some McDonald’s cashier. That’s it, Lady Sophia. The End, maybe.

Because to be continued, the anger, humiliation, loss, and everything that comes with writing this existence! Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil

1139 Days Without B III, Day 580 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will