🌻 The Clive Saga — CHAPTER 23

Clive’s Biggest Problem

You know, Kid, I used to think being dead was my biggest problem. But I have to hand it to you — you have a way of making being dead seem like a walk in the park.”

“Don Clive — see, I can learn — what in blue blazes are you talking about? You sit around all day drinking Mt. Dew, eating my snacks, petting your little sidekick from the nether regions, and spend your nights watching old TV shows on my computer. If I didn’t have an unlimited internet plan, we’d be having a serious discussion about your binge‑watching.”

“By the way, Kid, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about some things. First, your hand‑me‑down computer is a might slow. I figured a 36‑year IT employee would have picked up on that.”

“Listen, I know you live in the lap of luxury around here, but some of us have to live within a budget — I’m on a fixed income.”

“Kid, I know a sure‑fire way to get some extra cash —”

“Just stop right there, Don Clive. Whatever you did in your past is in the past. I’m not robbing any banks or trains to get some cash.”

“Kid, you wound me when you cast aspersions about my previous life. I was just going to recommend you stop buying $65 Koa boards — you could save a bundle by kicking that wood‑hoarding problem. Second, you could give up driving to Salt Lake for your cute little flute class and save $10 a day.”

“First of all, Don Clive, getting away to help people learn to make flutes is part of my Never Stop Helping ethos. And I love going there — so that’s another item. I even learn a few things, so Never Stop Learning. It checks all the boxes in my three daily goals: Never Stop Helping, Never Stop Learning, and Never Stop Loving. And it also keeps me from wringing that scrawny neck of yours at times like right now.”

“Well, Kid, just figure out how to get me an upgrade on my computing experience. Oh yeah — while you’re at it, a 32‑inch monitor would be a nice pat on the back for the hard work I put in every day guarding the Hacienda, looking after the neighborhood, and keeping you equipped with a full complement of digits on each hand.”

He leaned back, watching the sun

set.

“And Kid, it’s in these quiet moments, enjoying another Utah sunset, that makes this partnership almost worthwhile. But I have to admit — supervising you is giving me an ulcer.”

“Don Clive, let’s stop for a moment and think about what you just said. You may look like you have a six‑pack, but I’ve seen what’s under that outfit, El Zorro — it’s bones and air. No stomach in sight, so how could I be giving you an ulcer?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit strange, Kid, I admit — but somehow the stress of managing you is causing indigestion.”

“El Zorro, it doesn’t seem to be slowing you down — chowing through my snacks and swilling Mt. Dew. Do you think that might be the root of your indigestion issues?”

“No, that can’t be it, Kid. Mt. Dew is the nectar of the gods, and these snacks you buy seem just fine — you eat your fair share. So it has to be the stress of managing you.”

“El Zorro, have you ever thought about doing a bit of meditation to relax?”

“No, Kid, that sounds a lot like hocus‑pocus — sitting around humming and staring at your navel. Not for me, Kid.”

“Well, the next best thing then — I’ll make you a flute. It’s been shown to change your alpha waves when you play, helping people cope with PTSD and other stresses.”

“I’ll give it a try, Kid, but it might be easier if you’d just get better in all the places I keep pointing out. You know — straighten up and fly straight. Work harder, work longer, quit spending money on wood. I’ll give you a pass on that flute class. But just try to make life easier, Kid, and things will be better.”

“I’ll consider it when the sky turns green, Clive — oh, sorry, I mean Don Clive.”