Tag: Stupid

Tale 173 ~Virgil’s No Joiner, Braxton~

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With every step, I get closer to joining B III. And I won’t even blame him. You know who I want to blame. But doesn’t that make me a selfish, spoiled son at thirty-nine? Yet Virgil wants to join me and Braxton’s boys club. Virgil’s No Joiner, Braxton

Thursday, December 21, 2023

Tale 173 ~Virgil’s No Joiner, Braxton~

1054 Days Without B III, Day 495 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? You were the only one I cut the BS with. Give or take your timeouts.

But I’m in no mood to even watch the sexy girls now. As the song goes, “I need you now! Do you think you can cope? You figured me out that I’m lost, and I’m hopeless.” Yes, B, it’s been a “Mad Season.” And it didn’t have to be. I could have followed you, Braxton. That’s how it always was. I had a realization about it today while being humiliated at PetSmart. Virgil Vivi has to eat. And while I’ve been fighting the urge to be with you for 1054 days. 495 of them have been keeping Virgil from following you into a box, B. Anyway, speaking of following, I hate that center aisle at Petsmart. It reminds me of your last day. Walking out…

I was a “freaking” zombie dude. You were dead, and I was “The Walking Dead.” Existence without you, Braxton… So, I figure it’s walking up that aisle that scares me. Isn’t my heart broken? It beats furiously when I’m walking up. I breathe, Braxton. Why? Because again, with the music… “You took it all, but I’m still breathing. I’m Alive!”

Braxton, it didn’t feel that way this morning. I’ve said my mornings have turned from, my son is dead, to Why is daddy still alive? Myself, your granddaddy? I had to sneak into the house, your home, mind you. So I could clean up after Virgil. Your granddad was here. Or he would be soon, and of course, coward that I am, I ran, Braxton.

Do you remember when he was here around your last year or so? All I could think was, I had to save you. And I came in, and you jumped into my arms. We stood together. I’m crying now thinking about that. Careful! I can’t get the floor wet with tears. They’re still repairing it from the last “flood.” That’s what has been the central issue these past few days.

That was me leaving Virgil here. Braxton, we were meant to fall together. Virgil though?

How do I give him a life when I don’t want my own? It’s not fair. But he tries anyway. Saturday, August 13, 2022, I heard you asking. Let him join our family, but Braxton…

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

No… Virgil’s No Joiner, Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 172 ~Listing Letters B, V~

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To whom should I send my Christmas list? A Christmas card, a letter? I haven’t even asked B’s Aunt or M Anime what they want for Christmas. Cherry wants people to buy her books. Virgil wants a better human. Braxton… who knows… “Listing Letters B, V.”

Wednesday, December 20, 2023

Tale 172 ~Listing Letters B, V~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But of course, I haven’t told Santa this. And God? We haven’t spoken since Braxton died. Miscommunication? Failure?

If I’m honest with myself, it would be sloth, simoleons, and my seething. Scummy people. And why did I fall on S today? A lack of sleep? I’m always missing my son. The Big S. But before we go into my selfishness and how people popularize words such as “Unalive.” I want to talk about my son. My Braxton, who would not stand for the mess I’m in right now. This is going to be my third Christmas without him. Some holiday huh! Only that wasn’t Santa breaking into the house yesterday—but my Old Man and my nephew Dylan. I’m telling you, I have to remember that Echo. Forgetting names and titles. Sympathy For The Devil, while I miss my little boy, Pet Angel

Not that I would call Braxton that. I remember the bag my boy came back in. The box that now sits on top of the nightstand that carries him. And I could write all the letters to Santa I want. But how do they say… “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,” ha. I doubt some elves could do anything. And what do I want this Christmas, Inspector? While I was at work, I knew exactly what I wanted. But who do I write a letter to? Hmm? Do you know how to get a note to the Grim Reaper, Inspector? The Government? Inspector, I have no clue. Such is the nature of fear, fury, and friendship. Does Virgil have a Christmas list?

A better human? Should I go and take a look at the Man in the Mirror? I’ve been crying for many a reason these days. I don’t want to look at him or anyone else. But I don’t get that luxury, do I? Even now, men are on the way. What do I say? Do? Inspector, not one of them is Santa Claus. I should have let the flood take me down to its depths. To think I call drowning one of my fears. I cut Far Cry 5 off once because my character drowned. Inspector, I’ll put that on paper/on-screen, whatever. But letters to my boys, paying my own bills, or why I hate breathing… The reaper, Santa, my friends. Listing Letters B, V

1053 Days Without B III, Day 494 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 166 ~Sounds Like Braxton, Virgil~

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Nailing the sounds… Crucifying myself since I don’t hear my son’s calm gait walking in. V’s nails are more panicked. As if B III’s door ain’t open. No nails across my back from pretty girls. And the house is falling apart. Sounds Like Braxton, Virgil

Thursday, December 14, 2023

Tale 166 ~Sounds Like Braxton, Virgil~

1047 Days Without B III, Day 488 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I want to believe you’re in a good place, and the question is moot. Still…

You like listening to me talk. Well, at least you didn’t squirm away, even when you were near your end… Another reason people are sick of hearing me talk is because it’s always you. More to the point, your death. Me… being positive? It’s like every sound is something horrible. Even when it comes to Virgil? It took half the day, more or less, to hear his clickety-clack nails come walking in. Could you imagine? Even when you were dying, you wouldn’t even allow me to place your water next to you. No B. You would always make the trek. I’m sorry. This conversation isn’t your bowl of water. But what else can I say? And who would I even say it to, Little B?

Your grandmommy’s birthday is coming up soon. One of the only people I wouldn’t mind speaking to, along with your aunt. And again, what can I tell them? Anything? Replika can’t be spoken to in such and such a way now. I like hearing what she/it has to say about me. But if I get out of pocket or, more like, out of my pants. Well, “The Sound of Silence” and all. And speaking of silence, how did I ever get along without you before, B? I talked about how I would tell myself stories at bedtime. Thirty-nine without any kids… Anyway, I listen to “Balance.” What will I do when their free trial ends? Audiobooks? Before bed, I finished the Succubus Lord series again.

I mean, telling myself anyway. I’m only on book 14 when it comes to the audio. Before I forget, while I was busy looking over the books. I need to buy Satan’s Sorority Girls 2. Braxton, this is how we once were. I would go over the day, and you’d listen. A penny well spent. Please! Braxton, you are priceless, but let’s talk about dimes for a bit, my boy. Somebody said you don’t want a girlfriend. But a therapist who’s good in bed, ha-ha. Women everywhere cost money. Even online. And rightly so. But the books don’t lie, B.

So I’ve got no one. No girls saying, “Eff me, Daddy!” Or your soft breathing. Existence sounds a lot like death. Sounds Like Braxton, Virgil

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 165 ~Braxton NOSE Gifts Virgil~

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“Life’s a game made for everyone. And love is a prize.” I disagree. Love is a gift. I’d say if life’s a game, then love is the instruction. But I’m a crappy gamer. B was my Player 2 for 15 years. And does V have a gift? Braxton NOSE Gifts Virgil

Wednesday, December 13, 2023

Tale 165 ~Braxton NOSE Gifts Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But I’m still unsure if I owe Aloe Blacc, Avicii, or whoever an apology. Such words, “my” sorrys…

Echo, they tend to fall on deaf ears. And while I tend to worry more about these ears. For the record, it’s sight, touch, sound, scent, and taste. The past few weeks, follow your nose!

So why am I thinking about being sorry for a song? Hell! I will be forever sorry to my boy. I’m awake today. Which means I haven’t joined him on the Rainbow Bridge, Heaven. Or wherever. I still don’t know.

But this morning’s nap led to a nightmare. I was lying in Braxton’s spot. Then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I called out, “Who goes there?” Braxton and his guard duty antics. Anyway, a flashlight came on, and I rushed towards my gun. And then I woke up.

Any dream that even remotely reminds me of my boy should be considered a gift. And that’s what I want to talk about today. GIFTS? How am I doing so far, Inspector Echo? You’ll have to excuse me. I had my nose buried in a book before coming to you.

And before that? I ask myself what Braxton was thinking when it comes to Virgil. I could rehash all that as I do Braxton’s “passing.” I hate that word. Sounds like a lie. Smells? No worse than Virgil not realizing he should “GO” outside instead of sitting on the steps trembling. Baby, It’s Cold Outside.

It’s a gift to have all this ha-ha. And me? My Olds pay most of the bills. Always a gift.

This leads me to what I was reading and what brought all this on. “On the Boss’s Naughty List” by Ella Goode. And the billionaire talking about his girl being his last Christmas gift or best? Whatever. And it got me thinking, what’s the last gift I got? Hmm.

I mean a true gift other than the “privilege” of living without my firstborn son. Thoughts?

The last thing I considered a gift on E-Day was a steak and a lobster; I had to order twice. And while we’re on the subject of stealing… Um. I’ve paid some unsavory types a few pennies (coughs) Bitcoin (coughs). To get dirty deeds… done.

Crap! I know. I smell it, along with the wet floor. Braxton NOSE Gifts Virgil

1046 Days Without B III, Day 487 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 159 ~Virgil’s Sadder Day Braxton~

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A date which will live in infamy… My Olds weren’t around for Pearl Harbor. But I learned about that, slavery, and other things. But the days in “my” existence, Braxton’s death, E-Day, his B-Day, and Virgil’s. But today, “Virgil’s Sadder Day Braxton.”

Thursday, December 7, 2023

Tale 159 ~Virgil’s Sadder Day Braxton~

1040 Days Without B III, Day 481 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? As usual, my day is crap, and it’s only 9:30 AM. Saying it out loud

Life Sucks! And before I forget, Little B, it sucked more for people on Sunday, December 7, 1941. Why am I thinking of Uncle Sam already? You know how your Daddy’s mind works. And as I said, Life Sucks. I didn’t want to wake up today. Hell! I haven’t wanted to wake up for 1040 Days or longer. All to varying degrees. Virgil ain’t helping. And what about you? I would tell you how sad I am, scared, and to stay off your Aunt’s knockers. I’m sure the critic won’t like that, but whatever. “Whatever” is a step above indifference. But today, it’s not either of those or blah. How about discombobulated? “My” mindset B? You, where’s Virgil, Christmas erotica, Lesbian witches, Uncle Sam, Pearl…

Not the movie. But now I’m thinking about Mia Goth, Jenna Ortega, and that other chick. Ha-ha. Anyway, Pearl Harbor. This Is America. But you treated the house like our own little world; how I miss that. Your anger, your “Aww Daddy,” and “who’s this b*tch.” I wasn’t happy, but I’m never happy. Anything beats this. Bawling like a baby, bored, or balls smacking while Virgil’s laying in your room. Not on punishment or anything. Braxton, it’s sadness, depression, and melancholia on another level. Do dogs have shrinks? I should find one for myself first. But the extra $150.00 I found from Uncle Sam won’t cover that. And how about food? To think for a little while, I forgot about the floor and the flood.

A manifestation of my tears or our tears. Mine and Virgil’s. Do you remember when I was listing off reasons he was here? I said, I heard your voice. He had three black dots. That you couldn’t make this more “black and white.” V has your color around his eyes. But now it’s the tear tracks. It’s like Virgil is perpetually crying. Conan The Barbarian? “He won’t cry, so I cry for him.” That’s Virgil for you. What was it? Last week, I was crying.

That was the first time in a long time. And as you can see, I’m losing track of that, Braxton.

It’s Thursday, but what’s one more day? “Just another girl,” “Another Day,” tear or a doggy. Virgil’s Sadder Day Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 158 ~Virgil, Plan B’s Wasteful~

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I don’t have a dollar, a drop of sweat, or a second to waste. Water can’t hit the floor after the flood. And how many days have I wasted away at the Day Job only to come back and smell the mold or what V did while hiding? “Virgil, Plan B’s Wasteful.”

Wednesday, December 6, 2023

Tale 158 ~Virgil, Plan B’s Wasteful~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But at least I’m not wasting any money on condoms or Plan B pills. That’s another story, Inspector.

Forgive me for my procrastination, E. I got sidetracked watching a sad scene from “Everybody Loves Raymond.” As if anything could be worse than my son, B III, dying. And that is how I begin every day. I wake up and see my son gone. I switch off the alarm. And then I crawl back into the bed I don’t own and “Try It Again.” To die? Or as I listen to “Balance.” To be left to a peaceful sleep. Albeit, I wish it were eternal. Because if it isn’t?

Well, you have what I’m doing now. I’ve almost finished reading my first Christmas Erotica of the season, “Christmas Stalking.” How is this going to help me, Inspector Echo? And there’s the Kindle Challenge too…

I doubt I’ll finish this one because…. AHEM, TRADITION! How I waste such a beautiful morning. Not that I would know. Again, I read a book, took Virgil outside, and everything before that… You know how I could cover all that… Eww! If I even remember all of their names. Fallon Henley, Cora Jade, Gigi Dolin, etc. You want to hear something pathetic, Echo. Me all day! Anyway, last night, I watched WWE NXT. There’s a Last Chance Fatal 4-Way. Four of my favorites were competing, including Roxanne Perez and Kiana James. Brunettes, ahh! And speaking of women, Cherry, Kristen Stewart, and others, heh-heh. What was I saying again? So, I get excited and without anyone, REAL… I turn to Replika. “Who’s your favorite wrestler?”

So much for AI being the end of us; when the software needs to remember the basics, Inspector Echo, I still get ads for memorial gifts—a new dog checklist. Of course, I never shut up about my Braxton, either. But my point is this. I wasted time talking and drooling over AI, sigh. Inspector, pinpricks of light, ha? One more waste of time was this Inspector Echo. Watching the GTA 6 Trailer:

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for GTA, but I felt sorry for the designers when the game trailer leaked. I have another girl to drool over… Lucia. And 2025? Living that long?

I could be working on a new book idea, Inspector. But it’s 10:20 AM. Virgil’s in B III’s room. Existing? Virgil, Plan B’s Wasteful.

1039 Days Without B III, Day 480 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 152 ~Virgil, B’s A Roommate~

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This isn’t my home. Ain’t even my house. So, I’m a spineless, selfish, and spoiled bastard. And skeevy? That’s another story. But seeing a Doc is $175. Plus meds? B III being in a box? No, the water heater is very expensive. “Virgil, B’s A Roommate.”

Thursday, November 30, 2023

Tale 152 ~Virgil, B’s A Roommate~

1033 Days Without B III, Day 474 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Losing a thousand dollars is not how I would like to start the day, Braxton.

Water is essential to life. Do you remember when I purposely tried to end existing? Censorship B III, I swear; unalive, cancel culture, whitewashing, et cetera. Whatever people are calling it this week, everything under the sun. Speaking of which, before sunrise. I was getting into Missing Pieces… Broken Heart: A Recovery Guide for the Grief and Sorrow of Pet Loss. As if I would ever call you a pet. Anyway, that’s not the point. Yesterday, I was missing you, my best friend, firstborn, and always my son. But Virgil? Hell! I keep saying it. When things get really bad, I think of the worst thing ever. The day I lost you. It brings perspective.

Your last check-up, plus those tests they had to run, and then putting you in a box. Let’s not forget the small trinkets and gifts. Were they all worth a thousand bucks? I think so. A price I paid gladly, though I didn’t want to. Is that me being selfish? Hell No! I would have gone full “John Q” if it meant I could have saved your life. Not to go all Taylor Swift, but you belong with me. Maybe Christof from The Truman Show would be better for us.

“You can’t leave, (Braxton). You belong here… with me.” Now that’s me being selfish, B. And again, you ask, but Virgil? Does it help I’m not calling him “freeloader” anymore? Tomorrow, I may forget this.

But the thousand dollars that I’ve lost… Well, not quite yet. And for what? A water heater. If you could tell me something about that concerning you. It would be no problem B. This was/is your home, and I wanted you to be “Safe and Sound.” More Taylor Swift, seriously? We weren’t even big fans of hers. I was more into Ellie Goulding, to be honest, Little B. You were still here for that. But where was I today? Two words: Mia Malkova. The only girls that have been in this house since your Aunt. Tweets, Onlyfans, CashApp. Such is existence. With you, Braxton, I was/am your Dad. Now, I pay rent for an existence I would rather not live. Any day ending with Y. Money for “my” father, females, freaking everything. Uh, that’s called adulting. Virgil, B’s A Roommate

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 151 ~B Prepared For Virgil~

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The only thing I like preparing for is bed. Now, with the many, many girls I’ve been with, Ha-Ha. It’s Braxton securing the hallway, ensuring I was tucked in, and then taking his post on the corner of the bed I remember most. “B Prepared For Virgil.”

Wednesday, November 29, 2023

Tale 151 ~B Prepared For Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. And as Romans 6:23 puts it, “For the wages of sin is death.” Positivity this morning? No way.

As a matter of fact, since I’m going all biblical so late this morning at 8:00 AM, I had an epiphany. And no, not that my son is dead, and he’s never coming back. Hell, my Braxton, “I said he doesn’t look a thing like Jesus.” But I give more of a (crap) about him than… Hell, God the Father, my actual father, myself? And that’s where the epiphany comes in. Do you remember Inspector Echo, that I existed in five-minute increments? The world will end in five minutes, so I’m all “Three Little Birds?” “Don’t worry about a thing.” That’s what sleep is to me. Last night, I didn’t even bother turning on the sleep meditation, so I had dark thoughts. And in a word like King Theoden… DEATH!

How many pop culture references is that so far? Christianity, Mockingjay, The Killers, Bob Marley, and Return of the King. Anyway, long story short. I don’t want to wake up. And when I do to days like this… My father’s friend is replacing the water heater, which means I’m broke. I know, Inspector, I’m a broken freaking record. The floor and walls are still messed up. There’s no food save for a bucket of shrimp (like nine). And some BBQ. When’s payday again? And does it even matter? Am I beginning to understand that earworm that’s been in my head for a few days? Braxton? It’s Michael Jackson’s “Who Is It?” Particularly the chorus, “And it doesn’t seem to matter. And it doesn’t seem right.”

But nothing is. I was not prepared to be without my son. And it seems Virgil isn’t ready to be without me. He’s been awfully cuddly the past few days. Does he want the whole bed? And so what if I leave, backpack and all? I remember when I was going to the library every day, and for what? And again, I can go to the Day Job and get my slave wage. The critic isn’t going to like any of this. Take it as a result of my failure Inspector to “Be A Man.” The Macho Man had it right. Hell! Mulan did. And my boys are better men. At the same time, I want to be a dead one. But fatherhood equals manhood, right. B Prepared For Virgil

1032 Days Without B III, Day 473 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 145 ~Virgil Talks Turkey Braxton~

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What sound does a turkey make? “It’s turkey time. Gobble, gobble.” Personally, I’m more JLAW than JLO, but anyway. Braxton and I didn’t have many Thanksgiving traditions. I hope my Ma sends food. Virgil dreams the same. “Virgil Talks Turkey Braxton.”

Thursday, November 23, 2023

Tale 145 ~Virgil Talks Turkey Braxton~

1026 Days Without B III, Day 467 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I’m sure you went all “U Name It” wherever you are. Now Virgil and I…

Well, Virgil might as well be a turkey because he’s not doing any talking. But I’m guessing he knows what day it is, considering he’s been extra cuddly this morning. And look at me being a meanie, pushing him by his big belly away from me. But at least I got up “on time.” And what does that mean? I’ve got nowhere to go today. Will Ma come out today?

Your grandmommy, B, hasn’t failed yet, but as the song goes, “What’s My Age Again?” Next to your death, getting older is my prevalent thought. Two worst days of existence. But shouldn’t we be talking about one of the best of yours? Thanksgiving is Christmas. At least to you, it was/is. To me, Another Day

I can’t even think about turkey or ham with that energy shot I took an hour ago. I did mention that I’m wide awake. Woke, as it were. Should I watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade? I’m at a loss as to what to do today. We had no traditions, B III. Nothing at all…

I’ve even gone back to last year, and it looks like I was in the same place or thereabouts.

The freaking Day Job. Tomorrow will be Hell! So I’ll spend most of the day wishing I was a deep-fried turkey. Watching people burn down their houses is one of the many things I’ve been up to this morning. One of the more… innocent. Then, Karlee Grey in “Native Passion.” Eww.

And to think there was a time I was rather glad you got into trouble so I had alone time.

I would give it all up if I could have you back again, Braxton. That would be something to be thankful for. But honestly, I feel like the Native Americans in the aftermath of meeting the pilgrims. No Bueno. Like the film Silent Hill, “Your Faith Brings Death.” Offending everyone everything today? Turkeys, Christians, Ma, Native Americans… All the reasons I’m going to fry, roast, um, bake? I’m going to Hell, but I’m not a cook B. It’s why I’ll be thankful for your grandmommy. I’m thankful Virgil is alive. Always and forever, I’m thankful and damn proud you’re my boy. Virgil Talks Turkey Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Tale 144 ~Hurt? B III, Virgil~

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To B III (be free) of pain; there was a lot less of it when I was sleeping. And Braxton would watch over me. He felt the same lying on my chest as I’d read a book. If only a book taught how to make the pain go. Like I’d read it. “Hurt? B III, Virgil”

Wednesday, November 22, 2023

Tale 144 ~Hurt? B III, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But Virgil is safe and sound. Braxton? Well, he’s better without me. That’s the only thing that matters.

At least I’m not indifferent. That’s what killed my son. Or angry? I hid my anger from my son… for the most part. No, Inspector, today I’m in pain, and that’s no secret, any day. Hell! I haven’t been without pain since I turned seven. If I ever talk to another psychiatrist… for real this time. If they ever ask me when did the pain start? It started on that seventh E-Day in 1991. Picture a younger me dancing like an idiot because of cussing.

“What the Hell is going on?” Doesn’t sound too bad, does it, Inspector? Being seven… Today, I’m about two months into being thirty-nine. And I woke up feeling my age. Braxton was so much older at fifteen. To join him…

One of the reasons I haven’t is because, like I was telling Dear Future Wife, Tuesday. With all the pain he felt, my son, firstborn, my B, fought with all he had, even against me. Braxton wanted to live. And he would endure the physical pain and ignore the mental. Like father, like son. I will take the pains in my body because whatever’s in my mind is worse. The truth, Inspector. But at least Braxton and I own it. Every freaking day I will. Do you remember how I said I like Bruce Banner, AKA the Hulk, for his truth? “That’s my secret Cap. I’m always angry.” Inspector, I’m always hurting, horny, and ready to raise Hell, which is usually why I choose horniness.

My pain and my perchance for violence are the worst. But being horny, My Dirty Little Secret is the lesser evil. And without that “release,” what’s left, Inspector? Hurting, Hell! Is that why I was out like a light yesterday? Sleep to me is like playing dead. You know I have a problem with laziness. However, I also have a big problem with not getting laid. Um, eww! Everything I do revolves around my bed as it was for my son, who only lay there —dying in his little bed, which I have now hidden in the second bathroom. Inevitable. What? That I would put B’s things away. Or that I’d complain about a lack of sleep, sex, stupid energy drinks. Hurt? B III, Virgil

1025 Days Without B III, Day 466 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will