“Clyde: Unapologetically Alive”

— The Embodied Trickster

Nobody invited Clyde.

Clyde invited himself, arrived forty minutes early, ate half the snacks, and hid the other half somewhere nobody has found yet.

He chose the mustard blazer because it was the loudest thing in the closet and frankly the other jackets needed to learn a lesson.

The floral tie was already tied around a lampshade when he found it.

The pink and orange frames belong to someone named Gerald who is still looking for them.

Clyde has no regrets.

Clyde has never had a regret.

Clyde doesn’t even know what the word means and if you tried to explain it he would steal your phone while you were talking and take seventeen selfies and somehow they would all be incredible.

He once switched all the labels on Denise’s paint jars just to see what would happen.

What happened was a surprisingly beautiful accident that she called a breakthrough and photographed for Instagram.

Clyde filed this under “you’re welcome.”

He is currently plotting something.

You can tell by the smile.

You cannot tell what it is.

That is also part of the smile.

If something in this house is slightly askew, a pillow on the wrong couch, a book facing backwards, a flower turned just so — that was not the wind.

That was Clyde.

He is not here to behave.

He is here because somebody had to be.