For Jcdr!

“Huah.” Clam sighed. “That took some work. Willing yourself into existence to express some kindness to a friend ain't easy. Oh well, it's worth it.”

The young man stood in the middle of his quaint apartment, a simple flat with simple furnishings. The only thing that really gave it any character at all was a flat-screen TV, a Playstation 3 and a Wii U. He dusted off his clothes, though it was a bit of a silly gesture since they were rather tidy and immaculate. He had, after all, just sprung into existence but a moment ago. Perhaps his mind was older, but his identity? His clothing? His story? Those were things but seconds old.

In a Doctor Who-esque way, the good young lad had a role to fulfill, a self-appointed task. On the surface, it might have seemed kind of silly. In the grand scheme of the cosmos, perhaps even trivial. But this young lad would argue otherwise.

“Percisely,” Clam responded, as though the descriptive text was dialogue. “The universe's stability is synonymous with the preservation of friendship.”

Clam fretted over his clothes. The simple brown slacks, the dress shoes, the knitted sweater. Again, it was unnecessary, but Clam had other things on his mind, pressing concerns and they manifested themselves in an outward worrisome way: Physically.

Clam twisted around, looking over his shoulder. “Do I look alright? This kind of a first for me.”

But the young author merely had to remind himself of the why, the great self-appointed task.

“I came here and hid. Hid myself away feeling like I had no place here, feeling that my words were meaningless, pointless, trivial. They would only sway others, perhaps hurt them or draw attention they hadn't sought... I was terrified of giving myself voice because I was worried what I might do unto others.”

Hid and hid, the author did. Content to dwell in the safety of shadows. Peeking from his shell, but little more.

His story does reach back a little ways, if you care to hear it, it may be contained in another tale or two, but contrary to how it may seem, this story is not about the scaredy-cat Clam. No no, he is but simply the author, the narrator, the point of the tale's origin. And his little backstory and introduction is important in only to give the tale some context.. and perhaps.. just a smidgen of charm... If old shell-head could stand in the spotlight long enough to do it.

No, the real focus of this story is off and away, in another unassuming place. For better or for worse, the scaredy-cat phantom in the shell was about to embark on a (at least for him) unprecedented journey. Though he had made one such journey before... he had done it in the safety of the shadows, assuming an unassuming alias and left when his role to play was done.

This time however, the young man was going out of his way, leaving the shadows, leaving the security of a shell and gambling it all on his other attribute, one he wasn't entirely confident of.

Exposed and vulnerable, he would be, but he reassured himself on his mission once again by using the very nature of that mission to stabilize it.

“Well... Here goes nothing.” Clam said, raising his hand to knock.

For you see, the Author was about to step into another world, invite himself over to another place. He was taking quite a risk.. but he had decided upon this journey you see.

In Clam's humble beginnings, he had chance been invited to spend some time with a friend who was going off to visit another friend.

And then he discovered that the friends that had all gather together were all faces he had recognized. But unfortunately for poor ol' Clam, his constitution and self-confidence were... well.. fragile. Overwhelmed, Clam wasn't entirely sure how to cope.

He's still got a few crossed wires and screws loose, as you can plainly see.

But enough about him!!

And thus, the real point of the story begins...


Noisemakers and the sounds of a good time could be heard, they permeated and ricocheted through and off the walls. It was a lively party, one that Clam of yesteryear wouldn't have dared even dream of attending.

But for better or worse, our hapless authoritative fool had grown just slightly bolder recently, and just in time too, for it sounded like the party of the century could be heard.

Clam rung the doorbell, and the hero of our tale responded with a “Just a second!!” The sounds of the outrageous party dulled down as the door was opened and light flooded the outside darkness.

Clam raised his hand above his head and allowed his eyes to adjust.

“Uh... yes?” The owner of the establishment asked.

He was a tall snappily dressed man wearing a rose-colored suit and white gloves. Gems and gold embroidered upon his outfit served only to further spiff-up his spiffy design.

Clam, much shoulder and far more plain looking was gripped by that desire to turn tail and run again, but he summoned his extra well of courage from somewhere. Where? He wasn't quite sure.

“Hello, Jc![dr!] I.. uh.. was just in the neighbourhood and I heard from a friend of yours.. well, I suppose a friend of mine too.. I think.. hopefully... well, point is, I heard it was your birthday! So... Happy birthday!!”

The short nervous character raised a small box and offered it to the tall man that resembled the Rook chesspiece. The tall man in turn looked down at the little box held by the little man. Despite his limited facial features, the Rook was quite adept at portraying his emotions.

“Who... are you, again?”

Clam was crestfallen! His arms went limp, the small box dipped low as his shoulders drooped.

He wasn't entirely surprised however, I mean.. it wasn't exactly a memorable fellow, and he hid in the shadows and didn't exactly maintain a steady stream of communication. Heck, he was probably one of the worse guys for staying in touch.

But Clam knew that despite his long list of faults and hang-ups, his inhibitions and strange tendencies, there was something very real to be said here:

Friends are worth it. Even if that friendship is in its infancy, even if that friendship has no chance at success. It's still important and good things can come even the most unassuming of places.

“Jc[dr], I must confess.” Clam began. “I come from small beginnings and have no means to measure the scope of my own self-worth nor success. But I simply knew I had to act.”

Clam straightened himself and extended the little present he held onto with both hands. Summoning every bit of strength he had. “I heard it was your birthday, and I simply had to do something. Say something, to let you know you're worth it. You're a good guy, and you make some pretty amazing stuff. You and your collection of fine friends--”

Clam peered around the tall Rook known as Jcdr and looked onto the house-guests. Their mutual acquaintances, friends of varying degrees and even some complete strangers.

“I know the measure of a friend, and all you must do is look at the group around you. There's some pretty awesome people in here. And like you, I hope to get the chance to let them know that. Whether they hear of it now, here, alongside you on your special day or whether I get the chance to let them know somewhere down the line the same way I'm letting you.. You guys are great. You're great. And I just came along to say Happy Birthday, and give you this precious gift of friendship.”

Jcdr looked down at the little box.

“Now.. I'm going to warn you, I haven't got the foggiest clue as to what'll happen if you open this. It could be a time-bomb! But I can assure you, if it DOES blow up, it'll have the decency to fiddle and spark and sputter out like a dud FAR away from you and your friends.”

Happy birthday, Jc![dr!] I hope it's a great one!