Happy New Year to my Friday Fictioneer colleagues! Hope it’s a good one.
Exhausted from a surfeit of sentiment over the Christmas and New Year festivities, I hadn’t got it in me to dredge up some ‘old Shep’ inspiration.
This picture was taken by our genial host’s daughter-in-law. Thanks to Rochelle for publishing it, and for continuing to host our weekly get-togethers.
Clyde was always on the look-out for an opportunity. Whilst the others were settlin’ down, raisin’ young, Clyde was out there, raisin’ Cain. Marchin’ to a different drummer – that was Clyde.
I’d hear about him now and then, out west, doin’ his thing. And not good stuff, but hell, Clyde was his own person, absolutely.
Then he started sniffin’ after that bitch; ruined him she did. Led him astray, made him careless.
Eventually they was both mown down on the highway, cops chasin’ after ’em.
No way for Clyde to go. That Bonnie … lot to answer for, doggone it…