🌻 The Clive Saga — CHAPTER 18 -The Shop Foreman’s Revolt

“Listen, Kid, I’m not going to stand for this type of treatment anymore.”

“What kind of treatment is that, Clive?”

“Kid, you’re pushing all my buttons today. If you’re not careful, you’ll be sporting a big ‘Z’ on that backside of yours — which even a dead guy can’t miss. I’m Don Clive, but you will address me as El Zorro de la Sunflower. Got it? Or expect to be standing up for a while until things heal.”

“Zorro — I’m not saying that twelve‑word name of yours you’re suddenly attached to. So, Zorro, are you calling me fat? It’s not very gentleman‑like to call someone fat when you know they’re working on getting thinner.”

“And what exactly would you know about being a gentleman, El Sargento Juan?”

“I know when someone isn’t one, El Zorro.”

What's the real issue?

“Have it your way, Kid. “You can’t keep me locked up in the shop for days on end. Besides, it’s a two‑car garage — you make it sound like an amazing workshop.”

“Well, it has all the attributes of a workshop: sawdust, hand tools, power tools, and a maker who’s constantly working on wood.

“Don’t forget a maker who’s constantly turning beautiful wood into expensive sawdust. A maker who’s spent days trying to turn bowl blanks into bowls.”“And where are these bowls anyway, Kid?”

“You know full well I decided to pivot to cutting the stabilized blanks.”

“So you have nothing to show for days of effort, Kid?”

El Zorro, I have a nice collection of cuts and bruises on my hands and a beat‑up ego.

“Maybe you should have let me supervise instead of keeping me locked up in the shop. You know I need to be out and visible to the gentle townspeople of Clinton. They need to see that I — El Zorro de la Sunflower — am on the job.”

“What I do know, El Zorro, is that referring to yourself in the third person is never the correct choice.”

“Bah! English is such a barbaric language. Now Spanish — that flows from your lips like dew distilling from the heavens.”

“We’re done talking about this, El Zorro.”

“Fine. Then explain to me why you’ve squandered your hard‑earned pesos on a new table saw.”

“El Zorro, you know full well my old saw needed a bigger, stronger table and fence to support my efforts to produce a remarkable new flute design.”

“Your answer was to buy a used table saw — not even a new one.”

“A gently used table saw, El Zorro — two hundred dollars less than new and still amazing. I’ve checked it for square with my new reference square, checked the table for flatness, and recut my crosscut sled jigs to fit.

So why aren't you working?

“Because I'm dealing with a skeleton with an over‑inflated sense of self‑worth.”

“Careful there, Kid — you’re about to cross a line where I’ll be forced to take notice.”

“Okay, Kid, if you make sure I’m out supervising and protecting the innocent, I won’t make allusions about your weight.”

“Fine, El Zorro — I can do that.”

“Oh, by the way, Kid — where’s my Mt. Dew and afternoon snack?”

“Kid, I can always expect that you’ll go the extra mile in disappointing me.”