Tag: Thirty-Nine

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 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 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

Tale 137 ~Virgil, The B’s Silent~

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When was the last time I had a conversation? If I want to keep my Day Job, it’s best not to do that there. And other people… ha. There are some programs and programmers that have been listening. I wish B were here. And Virgil? Virgil, The B’s Silent.

Wednesday, November 15, 2023

Tale 137 ~Virgil, The B’s Silent~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Yeah, what else is new? It’s another reason to stay in bed. To remain sinless? Like I’m PURE.

Please! All my best crimes are done here. And I should shut up right now, Inspector. Only I won’t. And do you know why? It’s not like I’m getting into Heaven. Or, more importantly, to The Rainbow Bridge to see my B III. Are you sick of me speaking on B? That’s my first sin. The universe thinks so. When did I last read a book on grieving for fur babies? Inspector, that was about ten books ago. And of those ten, eight have involved uh… “Hair Pie” or clean-shaven. I know, Inspector, that’s so gross. Silence! Inspector, it’s either that or crying for my boy. And what about Virgil? The Day Job sucks for the both of us, Inspector. We both burst into tears.

So why don’t I get another job? Hell! I’m supposed to be a writer, aren’t I? And I was up around five-ish this morning. But seeing as how it’s 6:30 AM… Inspector, I’ve been busy. Doing what, you ask? For the record, there are worse people in the world than me. Inspector, I’m not a politician or programmer, and even with the pictures I took last night of myself… a pervert. And as for being a man? It depends on how we’re defining it this week. But like the song, “I think I used to have a voice. Now, I never make a sound.” That’s another reason I’m trying to stay off OnlyFans. Only the places I visit are worse. But without money and anonymity.

And to think, I was condemning the men in Matt Shaw’s novel. And that brings me back to my writing. Is that what I call this? The last few days, saying anything at all… Inspector, I should be ashamed. But there is so much of it. If there was food, the way there’s my shame. That’s another reason I’m up this morning. Last week wasn’t awesome! This week is a bit better. I should shut my mouth before I jinx it. Inspector, next week, Black Friday… There’s some shopping I have to do. And that’s to keep the Day Job I hate but still need. I can’t decide whether I should speak or remain silent. This Is America. B’s dead. Virgil? Virgil, The B’s Silent

1018 Days Without B III, Day 459 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 130 ~B LEAD It Virgil~

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“Oh lord, live inside me, lead me on my way, Lead me home.” Now replace “Lord” with Braxton, and you get the idea. To people, he was an angel or “just a dog.” He was/is a God that led me to exist. Now the man in the mirror or V? B LEAD It Virgil

Wednesday, November 8, 2023

Tale 130 ~B LEAD It Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But at least I confess. I’m not a man of God. Hell! My little God died. And Goddesses…

We’ll get to that at some point. But as King Ezekiel said, “I’m not your King. I’m not Your Majesty. I ain’t nothing. I’m just some guy”. The truth is I know it. And the lie? Oh, Echo! But no, never! Braxton was/is, forever and always, my firstborn son. Only what do fathers do? A father provides, protects, preaches, and teaches his son how to be a man. A man provides, and I still don’t think of myself as much of one. And yet fatherhood, as I’ve said. Fatherhood is pivotal to manhood, though you can reverse that. I was B III’s leader. Inspector, it was him, though, following Braxton from the beginning to the end. Braxton was the first time I was not led by fear alone. I swear

And now I fear being a leader, a father, and a man again. But what about little Virgil Vivi? At the time, I felt my son’s spirit was leading me —such faith. But now I’m stuck, Dear Echo. I’m not giving up on Virgil. If anything, he keeps me from giving up existing. This leads me to the Day Job. How did I become the leader of a billion men? Or women, Ha-Ha. Don’t they say it’s better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven? Tell me, Inspector. Better yet, All-mighty, “Lord heavens above. I’m only human, after all.” I’ll bend the knee if you can lead me to my boy. Lead, Follow, or get out of the way!

Inspector Echo, if I am to lead you, know exactly who, what, when, where, and why I would want to. But it’s the how that always gets in the way. Yeah, that or “my” courage. Why do I read so much on Jacob Ralston, Grayson Price, and Eddie Hill? I could go on Inspector. Sometimes I wish I could be wholesome being thirty-nine… E-Day continues to haunt me in November. Anyway, I want to be a husband and father. Inspector, I want to lead a family, but I fear that time has come and gone. And B, my son? We would’ve been like Dennis and Domino Hof. I’d own a brothel, have a big studio, and write books. I’d lead someday. B LEAD It Virgil

1011 Days Without B III, Day 452 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 075 ~Virgil Pretends To B~

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If I can “see” ghosts, maybe V can too. Anytime I have to go out and pretend to be a good person, it sounds like a haunted house as I close the door. So besides writing, sleeping, or gazing at yabbos, I pretend it will be better. Virgil Pretends To B

Thursday, September 14, 2023

Tale 075 ~Virgil Pretends To B~

956 Days Without B III, Day 397 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? More to the point. Are you happy? I read up on The Rainbow Bridge, sometimes.

It’s supposed to be a happy place. And more than anything, B, I want you to be a happy puppy. Hell! You were fifteen when you left, and I still considered you my little puppy. You’d be eighteen now. Even after your “passing,” I still call you for “medicine time.” How’s that for ACCEPTANCE? Your Dad could use some type of medication, I guess, B. Is it the fact that I’m calling out to the dead? Well, only you. But yeah, I have that book on vampires. It could be all the bugs biting as I clean up your yard like you would be proud. It’s all “The Land of Make Believe,” Braxton. But Hell is far too real. Which is why I’m writing today.

Yeah, your Daddy is time-traveling, but only a day. It’s Wednesday, September 13, 2023. And before I get started on why I’m talking to you so late. It’s around 4:30 p.m., and I’m in bed. Of course, sigh. V’s laying here pretending being here’s his “Welcome to the good life.” Like father, like freeloader. I swear, Braxton, one day I’ll stop calling him that. Lying? Daddy was never one for acting but, strangely enough, for ACCEPTANCE. Now, after E-Day, with me being another year older. I swear thirty-nine sucks. Thirty-eight, thirty-seven, thirty-six. Thirty-six was an awful year. Oh! I should have died at “Seventeen,” Braxton. But I keep pretending, don’t I? That bullying lie of It Gets Better. It doesn’t. Nothing stops. Nothing. Well, you…

Only I keep going like I was today. Do I want to talk about the Day Job now or yesterday? What about what I did after? All the time in the world, and besides eating and sleeping, what did I do with it? I was like you when your Aunt Carolina came through —buried in Yabbos. Only for me, it was Cherry’s. As if I could recreate that beauty like something out of “The Truman Show.” And speaking of big racks, there was also Momokun. After a couple of downloads, um… Your Dad is not a good man. And I don’t do well at acting. Well, “When we pretend that we’re dead,” you have me beat. Teach Virgil to be happy. Virgil Pretends To B.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Episode 008 ~Passion The WILL To Win~

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Do whatever you have to and I know I’m nowhere near polite with my writing but it is my passion, it’s what I want to do for the rest of my life for a variety of reasons, most I’m still attempting to WRITE out. “Passion The Will To Win”

Monday, July 09, 2018

Episode 008 ~Passion The WILL To Win~

Fortieth Rule Madam Justice

Give Me One Reason to stay here as the song goes, I’m still at the library writing and talking to you when usually I would be at the house asleep by now, of course, this hasn’t been the perfect day, anywhere near but I’m up. Not in that way, not anymore besides what happened at the house and then going to work, speaking of work there is no passion there only the need I suppose to survive one more day.

No Madam Justice writing is my passion, and my name is Will, now if I stopped thinking with my willy and get some work done which is one more reason I’ve switched locations because I keep my hands on my keyboard. The question is will I win and I have to believe that I will, the first sign of passion is that you are willing to do whatever you “love” for free and not to toot my own horn only the words have flown for how long? Now if I could take this philosophy to every other aspect of my life, you know like have a passion for standing up for myself, perhaps to get the girl and one more?

How about the passion that I carry for all of my fandoms, I’m pretty damn loyal to “The Walking Dead,” “Detroit: Become Human,” “Into The Badlands” and plenty of other things. Of course, you’ll bring up women; I remember years ago I wasn’t passionate enough about my damn name, but when that rage bubbled up, I wrote a pretty long rant about my job, and things changed. I would say I won but what happened today… brunettes are but one more clue that life, in general, doesn’t give me anything but the passion for being somebody, for being better that is what gives me the drive I need to do something in my life honestly.

I’ll have plenty of time to write about it today, that’s right I should be well on my way because while I may have already screwed up my six impossible things, winning five of them is something, but I need to win them all, All I Do Is Win. That’s passion, for being the best at everything that I want to do because the life I’m living now… most days I wonder why I’m getting up truthfully, From Now On, Passion The Will To Win.

I Will Have No Fear

Episode 001 ~Whose Right To Censor You~

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The first post of the next 365 Days, has anybody said NO yet, well probably my mind between work and having something to say that hopefully won’t get me kicked out, banned, or arrested, where is the line? Whose Right To Censor You

Monday, June 25, 2018

Episode 001 ~Whose Right To Censor You~

Thirty-Ninth Rule Madam Justice

Give Me One Reason to keep my mouth shut, trust me I say some pretty nasty, vile, demented, perverted, depraved… I could continue, but I would eventually end with stupid or skeevy; and a happy new year to you too. Even when I’m sweet, I often end up as creepy, and since people will believe and hear whatever they want, what’s wrong with The Sound Of Silence I ask, instead of the visible title honestly.

I should start by taking responsibility but it’s hard Madam Justice, I don’t mean to get all political at the start of the new year but when the “PRESIDENT” of the United States of America can say such horrible things, and I call a girl beautiful… I came up with a new “Rule 290: Apparently, Models Do Have Standards,” and I know what’s past is past but calling a girl a Brazzers or Reality Kings model is different than let’s say… hell if I know Victoria’s Secret, Maxim, Playboy, I like beautiful women. The thing is again that’s against the law unless you have money, a handsome face, the confidence, or the intelligence which is telling me to say nothing.

Even with my writing, how many people have asked me what I write about and I can’t tell them because, well I would go Fahrenheit 451 on my work, but I would fight to defend others without a second thought. I thought this was America am I right so why must I censor myself, and maybe that’s why my current novel is all about fire, the things you realize or am I In Too Deep. No wonder I hate myself more often than not, like something out of Jumanji wanting to avoid not being my father and when in reality I hold my tongue and avoid speaking my mind because I don’t want to scare anybody including my little boy.

One man told me I was stupid and to shut up, a girl told me I was creepy, another said I was skeevy, another two said I’m great, but they don’t truly understand; shall I let the whole damn world stomp on my face? What about God, I take pride that I don’t need other people’s imaginary friend to tell me not to lie, cheat, steal, and murder but I can’t even talk about it, write about it, or picture it, worth a thousand words.

Anyway the answer is no one has the right, and yet at this moment in time I am breaking this rule; what would I write if I know I would be read, what would I say if I had no fear, I’m my judge, jury, and executioner and I burn; Whose Right To Censor You?

I Will Have No Fear