Witnesses say that four squirrels cornered Clive and demanded stale bread crumbs. When Clive had none to offer, they batted him around, making annoying "chichichichichi" noises and deftly using their bushy tails for balance. Finally, they crushed Clive and fed upon his remains. I awoke the next morning to heartbreak.

I like to think that Clive had the last laugh. His mold-infested innards certainly must have induced nausea and vomiting from those rodent hooligans. And I like to think that somewhere, somehow, Clive is still vomiting himself.