I returned home on Sunday to find a nice selection of debris scattered in front of the house. This included: a week's worth of post, 14 pints of milk (two thirds of which were smelly and definitely undrinkable) the remainder of a small animal (which looked as though it used to be a chihuahua, and had been burned in some kind of ritual) and what looked like a detatched human arm lying in the driveway.
All of this was not what I wanted to see on my arrival home; I distinctly remembered telling Clive to cancel the milk...
I wondered why my obedient, loyal pet wasn't there to meet me; the note on the door said "out to lynch", but that had been there a while, and was a remnant of one of Clive's previous escapades... aside from that, there was no clue as to the whereabouts of my squiddly friend.
I decided not to speculate on meaning of the "evidence" that had been left lying in the driveway, and instead, I went into the house to wait for Clive's return. Clearing a small space on the sofa (which was covered in an even thicker layer of bottles than usual) I switched off my brain, and settled down to watch daytime TV.
2 hours later, my eyes were glazing over, and Clive still hadn't arrived.. so I decided to text him. I don't do this very often; Clive becomes frustrated whenever he receives a text message, as mobile phone keypads aren't exactly designed for use by tentacled persons, and thusly he can't reply without assistance. On this occasion, though, I felt it was worth the risk; I was very curious as to Clive's whereabouts, and with Dale Winton's voice ringing mockingly in my ears, I was feeling dangerous...
About 45 minutes later, a reply arrived. (This was unusually prompt for Clive, and set the alarm bells ringing right away...)
It said:
Sighing deeply, I did as the truncated words instructed me...
The first thing I saw on the screen was an unremarkable reporter, chattering inanely as many other (near identical) reporters had done before him.
The second thing I noticed was the caption: "HOSTAGE SITUATION IN LOCAL ZOO; 9 PEOPLE BELIEVED TO BE HELD"
I sighed deeply once more; not another one; and then allowed my eyes to explore the rest of the picture; the conventional reporter was positioned in front of a cage, and sure enough, inside the cage, there was Clive, with something that looked very like a monkey hanging from the bars on his left. He was also holding a large shotgun in one of his right tentacles.
The other tentacles were also being put to good use; Clive was waving right at the camera. He was also smiling, a big, bright, happy smile, like he'd just done something wonderful...
(And I don't know how he manages that; squid, even giant ones, just aren't built for smiling...)
5 hours later, the situation had been resolved, and I finally learned the full story.
Clive had decided that, me being away, this was a good time to sort out some of the things he'd been meaning to do for a while. Most of the week was taken up with "disposal" of one sort or another, as well as the obligatory drinking binges. The other item on Clive's agenda was to somehow obtain a large, betoothed creature to aid him in his "world conquering" dream (preferably one of the pretty... and deadly... siberian tigers he'd seen in a recent documentary.)
Of course, the most logical place to find a dangerous animal was the local zoo, so after a "few drinks", Clive and his octopus friend Asphalt set off.
After wandering around for a good half hour and realising there were no siberian tigers, Clive and Asphalt were debating how best to sneak one of the angry looking lions out of the zoo without anyone noticing, when a passing tourist caught Clive's eye...
Clive being Clive, the situation descended into the holding of persons at gunpoint very speedily...
Thanks to luck, fate, Clive's team of expensive lawyers (they make their living off Clive alone) and the general incompetance of the police, Clive was let off and allowed to leave the zoo with a caution. (He added it to the collection.) He tells me he's given up looking for a large wild animal for now; he is one, after all; and is going to keep his head down until everyone forgets about the small hostage incident, which they surely will do.
(The tourist and a couple of the restaurant staff already have a head start on this; it's called repression.)
There's a chance i'll be going away again in the next couple of weeks, so i guess i'll let you know if Clive does anything crazy.
(Come to think of it, if he does anything that crazy... you'll find out about it...)
I have to be off now; it sounds as though Clive's burning chihuahuas again...
...and I really want to go watch. :D
