Tag: Writer

Gospel 302 ~What’s The B Ending~

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I had no idea how bad Wednesday was going to be. The last one that was so… heinous, B III cried, but all I could do was pick him up, wrap him under my arm, and nap. It didn’t end there; the week only got worse but for a moment. “What’s The B Ending?”

Thursday, April 29, 2021

Gospel 302 ~What’s The B Ending~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I don’t really want to talk about my day, and I haven’t even lived it.

I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that Wednesday when I was feeling this way. Time-Travel, Monsieur B. If I had done more of it on January, 27 perhaps I wouldn’t be here April 29 without you. At present, though, it’s April 24, and you know why I’m speaking. As I tell you every AM, I miss you, B III. I still love you like pancakes, but B, I must confess. Shouldn’t I have done that Wednesday? God, I hate Wednesday and Sunday. Not the days’ fault but mine. So my secret… when I say I miss you, I can hear MILF Dos’s voice. If it’s any consolation, you would have liked her yabbos. Now I know you appreciated Indiana Gone’s, without a doubt.

I was thinking about getting her a picture of you or us. Braxton, she misses you, but that would be weird. Always and forever B, so as long as I’m alive, you will be too until we’re together again. I should try cutting off Youtube once in a while, but um, “He Lives In You.” It’s what I tell myself every day, B, and look at me crying again. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop, but I need something to round out the Anger, especially this week. It’s almost like the one I had when you…. Again I’m not even living this week as I write you B Squared. Tell me something, do I deserve to have this pain end? I finished Camp NaNoWriMo…

Hell, if I had published a book already like Cherry? I saw her this morning, do me a favor, B, and see if you can find a cat named Millie. Talk about “stalking,” remembering some English vixen’s cat on the Rainbow Bridge. I’m still a monk and your Daddy. Braxton, was that even funny? So many things ended when you left, and those that began? I want to stay in the same place, you know, but life has its ways. How dare I say that. You wanted to live and now… was I going to say I want to die? I don’t want to move, I know that. The way our story ended like something out of NieR: Automata. Always, Forever, What’s The B Ending?

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 296 ~The Battling Barker Braxton~

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His bark is worse than his bite… God, how I miss that bark. Braxton may not have liked a bunch of people; I can count them up on one hand. He loved me, and the people that do are far less. B fought for me until the end. “The Battling Barker Braxton.”

Friday, April 23, 2021

Gospel 296 ~The Battling Barker Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or I better be as Braxton can’t protect me from what has happened, will or won’t.

Back in B.B. (Before Braxton), when I was in high school, I would “pray” to have hell, someone to pray to at all. A friend to stand with me… though even with B III, I never got around to getting him registered or whatever. Fuck You ASM, I said WHATEVER!!! Pardon me, My Lady, anyway Braxton should have been an Emotional Support Animal. As the song goes, “so take a look at me now,” I’m going crazy. Although that could be the idea of a fight. I’m saying I won’t say YES, I won’t kowtow, back down, hit the ground. If I do, that overgrown, meathead, jock asshole will have to put me there, I swear. However, my first mistake was burying my best friend.

Well, no, B III is sitting on my nightstand, but you know what I mean. Speaking of black men that are threats to my safety, sanity, and self-worth, my “father.” I fought him once and lost but Braxton. My prince knowing, my dude’s in distress, jumping between us, my boy. He got kicked four feet high by my “father” into a wooden door. Braxton and I have shed the same blood in the same mud or across a kitchen floor, at least. Time to get my cry in on this Saturday, April 17. Braxton is forever my son, my brother, and my best friend. He showed such forgiveness, but when my “father” came by without me here, he sat in his bed very scared, waiting.

What I might miss the most as I sit here in bed is where he would be when I slept. I would wake up to see him on the foot of the bed on the corner, staring at the door. As I got going, he would come over, and after making sure I was okay, he would sleep; Daddy’s shift. As I confessed at some point, I’ve never woken up to a girl in the bed. Not in this house. The way Braxton and I would sleep back to back. How he’d guard the gate when we were at my Olds barking up a storm. “Remember who the real enemy is.” Braxton wouldn’t care if I was a hero or villain. The Battling Bard Braxton.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 295 ~Sounds Like B Leaving~

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There’s no alarm for “mourning.” There’s no routine for it; otherwise, I would listen to He’s My Son by Mark Schultz 24/7. “What A Heavenly Way To Die” that would be. Instead, I take a second step in the five stages of grief. “Sounds Like B Leaving.”

Thursday, April 22, 2021

Gospel 295 ~Sounds Like B Leaving~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I don’t want to make you mad, although your Dad is all sorts of pissed.

I know. It sounds like I could be doing better. Today it sounds like I’m going to talk about the good, the bad, and the ugly. Braxton, you were the soundtrack of my life. I need you to know that. Do you remember the day I said, “Braxton get in the car,” and you hopped? The first day you chose me, not my sister, not the grandparents, only me. In their new house, you barked at them in the AM defending the gate for me. The best welcome I got from you was the day your granddad was here. You jumped into my arms, whining. Braxton, the most beautiful sound was nightly. When I would say, “Night, Night Braxton, Sweet Dreams.” You’d paw the bed, settle and sleep beside me.

I hated fighting with you. There were times you would growl at me or snap. I’d be all, “you’re in trouble, the longer you hide.” You and I would both listen for one of my alarms to go off so I could call you a “good puppy” again. Your nails were pacing the floor all alone. I would call you about your meds, but it was hard for you to get down the stairs. I would carry you for so many days, but once you were outside for a walk, you were young again. You couldn’t hop in the car anymore, and I couldn’t blame you; with my final act. No, it started the day you cried… I ignored you.

I swear I thought you were going to be okay. Wednesday, you cried. By Thursday, you were back. I didn’t need the doctor to utter the words that Sunday evening. “He’s Gone.” The worst sound in the world was as I held you there and I heard your final breath. Braxton, I sat there on the stairs that day and cried like I never have before. It was the fucking silence that was killing me. How dare I? I killed you, so my going to Hell is what I deserve. For 72 days, I lived in Denial, I continue, but then the fucking ASM, ANGER. That bastard took my “peace.” Down from Denial to Anger, Up from Treachery to Anger. Always Sounds Like B Leaving.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 289 ~B Gets The Girl~

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“Tale As Old As Time Song As Old As Rhyme…” maybe not; it’s only been seventy-five days. I lost the “young” prince Braxton. I’d give the kingdom to have him back. Now I’m screaming at a lady yesterday for invading my space. B Gets The Girl.

Friday, April 16, 2021

Gospel 289 ~B Gets The Girl~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but instead of wanting to be the Prince, I’ll listen to B and be the Beast.

Now make no mistake, Braxton was a prince. Humans to dogs are owners, masters, kings, even gods but also best friends. With all the regrets of how I was nowhere near the best daddy to him. I am saddened by the fact that Braxton never made any doggy friends ever. Her name was Greta. I can’t remember what kind of dog she was, only that she and B were about the same height. We met her when we lived with my Olds (B III’s grandparents). I’d take him around the block, um, when it was “safer” being a black man.
Sorry, I don’t mean to get awfully political today. Anyway, so Greta would come up to say hello, and what do you think he did?

Braxton might not have been one with the furry chicks but my type of girls. I shouldn’t say that either; otherwise, she and I would have been together. For now, she remains my second BFF. I often said that the first girl that wins B’s heart I’d marry. Sorry, Braxton. Her name is Indiana Gone (not a fact, you know). While I was busy getting all handsy with the maid, B could not keep his paws off Indiana Gone. I’m sure I’ve told this story before how he hated her guts at first but like father like son. B Squared was one for her Yabbos. So here I am explaining to my son that he has to be a gentleman. Nope, he was a beast.

Only I would not let him, as Trevor Philips put it, “rut like beasts.” I swear, sometimes I felt like a pimp, people bugging us, wanting to buy him, and talking about breeding. The lowest offer for Braxton was $500.00, the highest $900. I should have gotten him a sister. Do you want to hear a confession? I’ve never got some “cuddy” in this house; my hand to God truth. We’re talking well… years. Now B Squared for all his barking, chasing, and then running from girls. Triple B was a virgin, and I didn’t have the heart to neuter. I’m continuing to line up regrets, no playmates, taking better care, and he never got to meet my new family.

Heaven… B Gets The Girl

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 288 ~Braxton Is, Write Will~

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I much rather be writing letters to my son than having to contemplate going to HR again today. How about explaining to my Olds about really becoming a starving artist? No matter how confusing, I do write better than I speak. “Braxton Is, Write Will.”

Thursday, April 15, 2021

Gospel 288 ~Braxton Is, Write Will~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day; has your day begun? Is the Rainbow Bridge like the Rainbow Road a timed event?

It wasn’t a race you had to win, and yet you did. That explains why I’ve been listening to “Run Boy Run” on the playlist I made for you or me, us… I don’t know. While I have nothing to say to God, that line from He’s My Son echoes, “if you can hear me, let me take his place somehow.” It’s a simple request, and if I had written anything that touches others the way that line makes me bawl? I could have stopped you from leaving, you know, like putting up some gate. It wasn’t money or the doctors, Braxton it was time. Two years ago, I paid money to publish Gulp, and here I am two years later without you or anything.

You have been here for every story I’ve ever written. Well, minus that one when turkeys took over the whole world. Where has the hunger gone, I ask you? Wasn’t it right after you left? I signed the papers, and I turned ravenous, at least physically, from famine to feast. It still hurts, you know, even when I shop online. Hell, even before I do that, I sit here doing the budget again. Your needs are no longer part of the mathematical equation unless we count the water bill. That’s where your grandparents step in. I should be writing checks. Instead, I book shopping trips, and the food disappears. I buy books from infamous figures. The background is plagued with noise from unwatched shows, Youtube.

If writing paid for this, who knows where you would be my B; still alive? Instead, I continue to work the Day Job I hate and write lackadaisically at best. You would sit here with me, or at 2:00 AM, you’d be in your bed waiting. I’d come in, and you’d wake up to get in my bed. If I wasn’t going to be serious about my writing, the least I could do is spend more time with you. I Only Want To Be With You, like Janine and her Charlotte in The Handmaid’s Tale. Another book, a show, a concept more remarkable than mine. Yours ended but my library… Braxton, perhaps that was your last lesson. I am your father, a “writer.” To be all, Braxton Is, Write Will

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 282 ~Try And B Professional~

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I said I didn’t want to tell a sad story. I hate my Day Job, but here I am to talk about B’s work experience. Hell, he took the one job that no other American wanted… when he loved me. 365 and 24/7, my Chihuahua would Try And B Professional

Friday, April 9, 2021

Gospel 282 ~Try And B Professional~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but Hell, my “father” only wanted me to get a job, and I can’t be mad.

Braxton would be these days. Literally, because the grass is poking his “whanger” while running the fence. I should never forget how great a teacher B III is. Did you know “whanger” is the U.K. equivalent of wanger, which is how I spelled the word originally? As for my son himself, I wish I could find all the rules he taught me. One of my favorites being “legs, breasts, and thighs are best in a bucket of chicken.” I continue to admit I hate math all these years, which is why I’m burning through wealth like there’s no tomorrow, if only. How do I learn to live without him? Last night I forgot to call him for “medicine time” damn, wrestling was on. My bad…

I’ve been thinking that Braxton had to become a mad scientist. His little body became a lab for god knows his schedule for taking his meds, the food he ate, and the water. I want to tell happy memories, but could a fucking water filter have saved him? I don’t care if he was a Trump supporter. Isn’t that weird coming from someone who originates from Mexico? I’m sure B III himself was born in the USA. He believed in our border wall, e.g., our gates. He hated nearly everyone, and he loved Black People, me, the family, Indiana Gone. Then why did he leave me all alone? My moods, I tell you, Lady Sophia, but Braxton was the best therapist, counselor, and dear friend.

People don’t believe me, but when I was sick and taking too long in the bathroom, he’d carry a blanket over to the door and cry. He would lie with me and lick my hand when I was unwell. When I was “hurt,” he would lie on that body part wishing it better, my kid. He was an expert cuddle buddy; I still miss our back-to-back formation, on guard even in sleep, good and bad. He must have figured I would drown one day, the way he called me out of the shower, so I can add lifeguard to his resume. With all the NaNoWriMo’s I’ve done, he is also a co-author. Today still unpublished.

I killed his book character. I’ll Try And B Professional.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 281 ~A Noise With Braxton~

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I figured if there is one horror movie I’d survive, it’d be A Quiet Place. People make too much noise, and B and I didn’t like it. At least his noises always meant something, but I didn’t listen. Now I’ll never hear him again. “A Noise With Braxton.”

Thursday, April 8, 2021

Gospel 281 ~A Noise With Braxton~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Are you listening to me? I know you would ask if you ever did before?

I’m still not talking to God. There’s not much point in even acknowledging such a thing. Yep, that’s going to piss off some religious folk. Your grandma did check-in about a week or so. Your aunt told me of another furry kid. THEY don’t get it like the song “He’s My Son.” Always and Forever. There I go crying again. At the very least, I can say it hasn’t been all “wailing and gnashing of teeth.” It’s more a soft sob these days, but not one day has passed without me crying for you. I could be grieving for me because I hope you’re happy, of course, wherever you are, Braxton. Annoyed we aren’t together anymore is the lightest way I can put that B.

Also, there’s the fact that I didn’t read to you more. One reason is that reading about “succubi?” Those aren’t good stories for you. I still say either Heaven was jealous of Cerberus, or he needed a buddy. Two is, have you seen the actual books I’ve been buying? And three, I’m not done writing. You are too much like me, wanting to work so hard but quick with an excuse. You can’t see because Daddy hasn’t cut the grass; I’m not doing that because I’m writing. I’m not doing that because you’re napping on my legs. I was on my feet all yesterday because, yes, B, A Man Provides. That’s what you did, B III, all the sighs, huffs, sobbing, you brought the noise.

No amount of ASMR will ever make up for your sneak attacks, snoring, or sinning the world with your barks. I don’t care how pretty “Amy Kay” is. I rather have your cuteness. Before you ask, your Daddy is still celibate/asexual monk; sixty-seven days. Even longer One Hundred And Four. Now that’s too much information, B, but just a thought, I saw you with all your toys, ha-ha. You know the sound of my heartbeat when we would lie on the couch. I could be out cold, and how many times have I said this? I would wake up, and you would be sitting at the foot of the bed. You heard me say goodbye. Now I want your Hi. Anything, A Noise With Braxton

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 275 ~Learning To Speak Braxton~

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I didn’t want to tell a sad story. Every day being the worse day of my life at the Day Job, I need to remind myself. Braxton saying goodbye was the day. Next would be me saying hello, but that’s another story. Learning To Speak Braxton is today’s yep

Friday, April 2, 2021

Gospel 275 ~Learning To Speak Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I don’t speak stupid and lies “Trump” or world ruler as Bezos. I speak Braxton.

Or perhaps I “spoke” Braxton? No, it’s been two months, and if I stopped calling out to him, as the song goes, The Sound of Silence. Indeed M Anime is trying her best. She wants me to learn Spanish. A great man once taught “listen to the woman,” truer words… Learning to speak Braxton was a lot easier. Pretty girls and furbabies, and then I wonder why I’m not much of a man. Well, the man who was supposed to teach me such. He said that every word that came out of my mouth was STUPID. B thought it scripture. We started talking the same way we stopped, holding him and saying it would all be okay. Was that a lie? I’m not that bad.

Now I’ve been over hello and goodbye; how many times? How about “you’re safe?” For him, it would be sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at the doorway, keeping watch. To say it back, I would lift Braxton up, butt against one arm, his two front legs supported. My son saying he was hungry was a language all its own. Usually, it would involve his “Undiscovered” appetite making a comeback. In the form of him lying in the den waiting for fries. A quick spin and him leading me to his bathroom pad. How about, can’t bark now eating. Hell, I told people a lot that at least when B III was barking, he was helping me out. People only breathe to talk.

I Love You. How most people waste those words? Love, loyalty, the idea of “If I lay here If I just lay here.” Braxton spoke of love every day, so how could I not do likewise. Now it’s piling up. Today I looked up plenty on grief and love, but how Braxton and I spoke? In our last conversation, him standing on the seat as always, refusing to lie down. “I’m fine, Daddy, let’s go home, everything’s good, I’m a good boy. As I cried over him, telling him I was sorry, I tried, I love him. The last look he gave me as I held him, one word, WHY? Only know you love him when you let him go.

Still Learning To Speak Braxton

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 274 ~Are You Kidding, Braxton~

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It’s the first of the month. All these bills aren’t a joke, and neither is Camp NaNoWriMo. And now it’s official, Braxton has been gone two months. If I make it through this one, it’s a record for Braxton and I being apart. “Are You Kidding, Braxton”

Thursday, April 1, 2021

Gospel 274 ~Are You Kidding, Braxton~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? If you did, usually you’d come running to the gate. Are you under the bed?

I’ve checked Braxton, and to be honest, I didn’t even want to get up today. I’m in enough trouble as is, seeing how this is the first day of Camp NaNoWriMo, and I’m running behind. Will I continue my “series,” write about you, or finish GULP? I say that weekly. Know what else I say B? I love you, make good decisions, and of course, “Just Me Baby B,” whenever I come home. People think I’m joking, and if this wasn’t about you, I would say I got ISSUES. I’m still looking for you without fail and freaking out daily. Baby B, I miss those looks you would give me like I couldn’t be serious or even when I panicked, and you were at peace.

Do you remember that time you tried to convince me that you always walked on three legs? You knew I needed my glasses, so that’s when you decide to show me you ate all your food, or you had gone in your bathroom spot. How many treats did you receive? Braxton, you think about biscuits, the way I think about sex, the way leeches think about blood. Now I tricked you plenty myself to get you out of your hiding spots. When people came to the door, we were like a comedy duo. B, My Cerberus, and an “Ordinary Human.” I thought it was funny when you got into trouble… I got some “alone time.” You laughed because I treated life like it wasn’t awesome.

I guess the joke really is on me. Wanting you to live forever was a joke. Believing that someday, I would introduce you to my wife and children, and you’d grow old with us all. People laugh as I call you my son. But no one walking the Earth today, who shares my blood, could say they have the sway you held, still do. You will always be mine, My firstborn. B III I thought you were joking when a day went by, a night you cried. Hell, I thought you missed me before. I knew it was a joke when the hospital called asking for permission. You were dying.

Not funny. The Rainbow Bridge, Heaven, I hope you’re smiling, laughing. Are You Kidding, Braxton?

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 268 ~B Hold A Dream~

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Braxton wasn’t looking for the Holy Grail… okay, maybe once when he stuck his head in my drink. My first knight was on the eternal quest for comfy spots. Again, some things he should keep his head out of. Where is his behind now? B Hold A Dream.

Friday, March 26, 2021

Gospel 268 ~B Hold A Dream~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but could I pull the clouds from the sky? How about growing a pair of wings?

Okay, as I come back down to Earth, I looked up the softest material in the world (Braxton’s fur)… Lady Sophia, why? Like most things because of my son. Braxton was quite particular when it came to where he decided to rest his head. Braxton had two beds to choose from. Spoiled as he was, it was between my sister and me. That was Braxton’s big decision to make nightly. I have issues with my Olds and my sister, B III, though. He would hang out in my Olds’ door of the old house, waiting for whoever was headed out for food during the day. How many humans have ever chose me over everything? “Get in the car B.” One of my proudest moments ever.

He doesn’t like car rides, but he wanted to sit at my right hand even with that fear. Well, stand anyway. I think I have decent car seats but Braxton. He dared to dream “The Impossible Dream.” First time I ever had to give “The Talk,” and Braxton really listened. My boy loved Indiana Gone and wanted her to stay forever. A promise I’ll never keep to him sadly, but even if I did. I don’t think he would have appreciated losing his side of the bed. Now, how many times did that happen when he was here? Do I need to tell the truth? Anyway, I tried to make up for it, as I always say, his bed, his pillow, an unwashed black hoody.

As far as Triple B was concerned, his behind was not meant for the deck, tile, or laminate flooring ha. His entire life is a miracle to me, but when he chose to lie out on the porch with no pillow. Even now, I haven’t figured out why Braxton lied on one side of his bed. Lady Sophia, if I were to dream, I would believe he was always saving room for me. If he is anywhere, I imagine a big black bed he can crawl up in. It’s cool but has a heating pad at the foot, and it’s shaded. Around it is bathed in sunlight and his favorite foods. He’s saving a spot.

Missing cuddling, I hope he’s resting. B Hold A Dream

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will