Masked Misfits- Clyde the Sewer Creeper
Original resin figure. SLA printed/ Hand painted. 4 inches tall.
Case File: Clyde the Sewer Creature
"Get your ass down here right now, mister!"
The voice came from downstairs in a rundown house.
"I don't want to!" Clyde Giffman shouted back.
"Clyde Giffman, get down here and show me your costume!"
Reluctantly, Clyde descended the staircase.
His creature costume was oversized and awkward. The mask slipped down his face and his candy sack dragged behind him.
"I hate this. I wanted to be Frankenstein."
His mother sat in a lounge chair, cigarette in hand.
"That costume was too expensive. This one was on deal. So deal with it."
The room was thick with smoke. The yellow walls were stained so badly that no one could tell whether the color came from paint or decades of cigarette smoke.
Clyde and his mother were all each other had.
"Come on, let me get a picture of my scary creature boy!"
She pushed him in front of the fireplace and snapped a Polaroid.
"Oh my God, you are adorable!"
"Mom..."
"I'm going to a party. I'll be home by midnight. Don't stay out too late, and don't eat any candy until I check it. Got it?"
"Can I come with you?"
"No, Clyde. Go make some friends. Everyone loves the Creature. You'll be the hit of the neighborhood. Clyde, please try and make some friends."
The front door slammed behind her.
Clyde watched from the window as a roaring red muscle car screeched to a stop outside.
His mother climbed inside and kissed the stranger behind the wheel.
As fast as he arrived, they were gone.
"I hate Halloween."
The words had barely left his mouth before green fog erupted from the fireplace.
Smoke filled the room.
Clyde coughed and wheezed, desperately searching for his inhaler.
"Looking for this, child?"
A gaunt man emerged from the smoke, holding the inhaler.
"I—I need that!"
"Not so fast. Why do you hate me?"
"I don't know who you are!" Clyde cried. "I--I don't hate you; I hate Halloween! I hate this costume! I hate this house! I want my mom!"
The boy broke down in tears.
The stranger tossed him the inhaler.
"Dear child," the man said. "If you hate Halloween... then you hate..."
His face twisted and melted, distorting into something garish.
"ME!"
Clyde screamed.
His cries echoed throughout the house.
Throughout the neighborhood.
And then...
They stopped.
Clyde Giffman was never seen again.
Cremated Plastic Toys
Hand-crafted collectibles inspired by horror, Halloween, and pop culture miniatures.
