It began after he’d gotten his sole source of income cut off when he had a spat with his kooky rich daddy; Clyde didn’t work a day he lived with his family. Soon the bill at the hotel we were stuck at in Chaska, Minnesota, began to go up without a dollar to pay it with and dad began to pester mom into selling jewelry she’d brought starting with a string of pearls.
I remember the day we went to a place down along Lyndale Avenue south of the Shops at Lyndale at Lyndale and Old Shakopee Road in Bloomington, MN to a place next to the Gill Brothers funeral home named Wixon Jewelers, an establishment located in the front part of a reverse L-shaped building done up in the manner of a house with mock chimneys that taper off into metal popes, bay windows, etc.
I stayed in the car with my brother and two Pomeranians while Clyde and mom went in to try to sell it. They soon came out: no sale. Clyde commented on how security had to let them in. Well no shite Sherlock! What did he think a jewelers was, wide open as J.B. Hudson at Ridgedale Mall? What an asshole.
The goddam bastard finally sold it someplace else in town and got his money, but it was only a drop in the bucket that didn’t tide us over for long.
God how I hate him for that and the other things of ours he sold and pawned off in the midst of that mess! What was he trying to do, literally buy time before he had to face what he’d written on the wall and go get a decent job for one in his miserable, failed little life? Come on.
Clyde is a leach that sucks people dry not only emotionally but also monetarily. If you know somebody like him, I’d keep your valuables under lock and key and smack the hell out of them whenever they try to con you out of them so they don’t have to go get a decent job and actually earn a living for a change. That is how they operate, and that is what you must look out for with such trash.
So far as I’m concerned, Clyde and his kind can burn in hell.