The Clive Saga -Chapter 12

Motivation Clive Style

Intro: El Zorro Está Llegando

Clive has been running on pure masked‑avenger energy all week. Ever since he discovered the 1957 Zorro series, he’s been glued to the computer at night, “researching” with the intensity of a grad student writing a thesis on dramatic cape‑swishing. And now that his costume and sword are officially on the way, he’s unbearable in the most predictable Clive fashion.

Little Spanish teasers have already started slipping into his conversations — half brag, half threat, all mischief. He’s practicing his stance, rehearsing dramatic turns, and muttering phrases he barely understands. The shop feels like it’s waiting for a storm to roll in… a very small, bony storm with a poncho and a questionable sense of heroism.

Chapter 12 picks up right where the chaos left off: Clive supervising, criticizing, demanding mobility upgrades, and preparing for the day he can finally declare, with full theatrical flourish…

“¡El Zorro ha llegado!”

Motivation Clive Style

I wander into the shop not long after eight. Clive hasn’t moved a finger from his spot at the PC. “Kid, where in Sam blazes have you been? Half the day’s gone!”

If you keep starting late and quitting early, he says, the list will never get done. I ask what list he’s talking about. He swivels his skull toward me like a disappointed foreman.

“First off, what have you been doing all night—watching old TV?”

“I’ve been doing research, el sargento Juan.”

“Clive, my Spanish is bad but not that bad.”

“It’s either that or Corporal Agarn. Better yet, maybe Captain Parmenter—you don’t seem to have a clue most days.”

“I guess that makes you Sgt. O’Rourke.”

“Got it in one, Captain.”

Clive’s Commentary

“Kid, you can manage to make yourself look bad without any help. That lathe setup looks like a train wreck waiting to happen.”

He’s right, of course. I’d just finished wrestling a bowl off the lathe using an oil filter wrench and a knock‑out bar nib. Bent the nib. Thirty‑five dollars later, two new bars are on order.

“Taken care of,” I tell him.

“Great, sargento. Now get working on that bowl. I fully expect to see it rolling down the driveway at some point.”

The List, According to Clive

Clive’s list is long and merciless: finish the bowls, print the flutes for David’s family, and start the wooden ones for everyone else. Then he starts lobbying for transportation.

“Kid, I need to be mobile. Buy me an airplane.”

“An airplane?”

“If I had one, I could keep track of things all over the state from my cockpit.”

“Clive, how are you going to fly it?”

“I’ve been running Flight Simulator while you snooze.”

“No, Clive. You’re not getting an airplane so you can pretend to be Sky King.”

He shifts gears. “How about a nice Palomino? I used to have one named Lightning. Me and the boys rode all over Utah, Wyoming, Idaho, Colorado.”

“Who are ‘the boys,’ Clive?”

“Need‑to‑know basis, Kid, and you don’t need to know.”

“Well, since I don’t have room—or the desire—to add manure sweeper to my list, the answer’s no.”

“Fine. Then buy me one of those new electric Mustangs or a Bronco. I could go down and make sure the family in Farmington’s okay.”

“Clive, stay away from my kids and grandkids.”

“Okay, Kid. How about an e‑bike so I can patrol the neighborhood?”

“The city already has a police department and a fire department.”

“That’s your problem, Kid—negativity.”

Maker’s Note

Clive’s version of motivation is equal parts guilt trip and comedy routine. He’s convinced supervision is a sacred calling, preferably done from a moving vehicle. I remind him his job is to take care of the shop.

“Sure, Kid. I’ll take care of your little shop and hacienda. Just make sure Riley comes by more often so I have someone competent to supervise. Trying to supervise you is getting tedious.”

Then, as always, he adds the real priority: “By the way, we’re out of those cheese crackers I like.”

Closing Teaser — Chapter 12

Clive spent the rest of the morning muttering dramatic Spanish phrases under his breath, practicing cape‑swings with a shop rag, and trying to convince me that the lathe could be “repurposed into a training device for sword work.” With his costume and sword officially on the way, the shop has taken on a strange tension — like the calm before a very theatrical storm.

Next chapter, the first signs of Zorro training begin. Clive insists he must be “battle‑ready” before the big day. I’m not sure what that means yet… but I’m certain it won’t be boring.

El Zorro está cada vez más cerca.