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Father of the Year; Kirk is going to get even with Lars. Het.
Topic Started: July 3, 2007, 9:40 pm (14,637 Views)
Raedoll
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Poor Twisted Me
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Verity
Jul 27 2007, 03:15 AM
Thanks for the review. I am triyng to decide about what to do about the next chapter. It's rather long. Very long. I could I guess, break it up into 2 different sections, but I'm not sure that I want to do that.
Things are good in the next chapter, yet so very wrong at the same time and I like that effect.
Y'all just might have to read it in 2 sittings because it's long and tedious. I'm kind of mentally exhausted from writing it.

and yeah, Cecily cries all the time. little brat. :)

BRING IT ON CHICK. :biggrin You know I love that long update shite. :heart: and respect.
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MissMetallica;;
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Poor Twisted Me
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yay im glad i got your name right. if i didnt i would have looked like a dickhead. :P

im in great anticipation for the next chapter whether it be 2 paragraphs long to 3 whole pages! im really loving this story!

now, i was very worried then when emily didnt believe cliff, i thought that you were going to make her hate him. but luckily in the end she found out what lars has been doing. YAY.

and torben.. what kind of lies is lars going to say to his dad this time. i think lars' luck has run out! KARMA.

i love how much of a father cliff acts to cecily its just so sweet, and to tell her to tell the little girls to go fuck temselves. gee, if my dad ever told me to say that i would just laugh so hard!

waiting in suspense for another!
can't wait!!
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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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“Because I’d rather hang out with you,” Cecily replied. “Those girls don’t drink, or smoke pot, or tell stories about the Misfits, or say fuck.”

^^ Dear sweet fuck that was such a great line :) Absolutely brilliant!

Lars once again is back to needing a damn good walloping. Kirk is still the sweetest thing in nature - I'm not surprised that Missy is rather taken with the fellow (although I think the whole 'love' part may well be the alcohol talking!).

And I'm glad that Emily has seen what Lars is really like, dammit after all he's done, Cliff deserves a good woman!

*G* And I really really do love Mr Chelton. He's excellent. Kirk deserves him.

And as for the update thing - just bring it on with the super long chapter :) Chapters can never be too long! #

x
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Since y'all asked for it. Here you go. It's very very very long. Usually my updates on MS word at 6 pages, I think this one was at least 8.
Reading for a long time on the computer screen sometimes bothers my eyes, so you might have to read it in 2 sittings. And man, it was tedious to write. I am not good at writing sentimental shit.

Thanks again for the reviews. What a wonderful way to start a day. :dance



Chapter 28- Winners and Losers


Cecily ran out of the main room and into the coat room. She got down on all fours, and crawled underneath some of the coats that were hanging from a rod. There, in the dark room, she could cry in peace.

It wasn’t the first time that Cecily had had one of her parents deny her right in front of her own eyes. Claudia had done it once with one of her ex boyfriends. He had been some dude from Germany who hated children. Claudia had told Cecily that whenever he was around, she was no longer her daughter, but niece, who was just visiting. She had even made her call her Aunt Claudia instead of Mom.

Obviously, her dad didn’t want her grandfather to know about her. Maybe she wasn’t good enough, or was too practical looking for the almighty Torben Ulrich.

The tears started coming faster and faster, heaving the small frame of the little girl up and down. Her two neat little French braids had started to come undone from all the dancing, running, and crawling under the coats.

“Cecily,” a woman’s voice called.

In the dark, Cecily couldn’t tell who it was. She chose to ignore her.

“Oh Cecily,” the voice sighed. “You poor little thing.”

Emily got down on all fours, and crawled under the coats. She took Cecily into her arms.

“I’m sorry that I’m crying Miss Emily,” Cecily sniffled.

“You have every reason to be upset Sweetie,” said Emily as she gently took out Cecily’s dilapidated French braids, and smoothed out her long, unruly, hair. Emily had no idea how Lars could be so affectionate and loving towards his daughter one minute, and breaking her heart the next. It was no wonder that the girl was confused.

“He made me look like a fool,” Cecily sobbed. “Caroline and Amanda, they’ve always hated me for not having a dad. They say it’s my fault. Now I finally have one, and he doesn’t even want me anymore.”

“Oh Cecily, it has nothing to do with you,” Emily sighed. “Your Dad is very immature. He’s not quite sure how to handle fatherhood yet I’m afraid.”

“Cecily, are you in here?” Cliff asked, as he opened the coat room door.

“Mr. Cliff!” Cecily called, perking up just a little.

“What’s wrong with my little girl?” Cliff asked as he also dove down underneath the coats. “I saw you crying, and take off running.” He reached out and gently began to pet Cecily’s head. “You can tell me anything.”

Cecily burst out in full blown tears again, burying her face deep into Emily’s shoulder.

“Lars denied being her dad in front of her grandfather, and a bunch of her friends,” Emily explained.

“Jesus,” Cliff murmured. He looked down at the mop of Cecily’s hair, and began gently stroking it. “He doesn’t deserve you. Really he doesn’t.”

“I owe you an apology Cliff,” Emily piped up. “I should have trusted your word. You know Lars way better than I do, and I made assumptions based on just a few minutes with the guy. I’m sorry. Now I can see why you’re doing so much for Cecily. You really are a saint Cliff.”

“No,” Cliff replied shaking his head. “I’m no saint, trust me on that one. But I do love Cecily. I love her as if she were my own.”

“At least someone does,” Cecily muttered as she looked up. She scooted over to Cliff, and snuggled herself right down in his lap. “It’s not fair,” she cried. “Why couldn’t you have been my Dad? My Mom has slept with virtually every other guy in Denmark, why couldn’t she have slept with you?”

“Now that would be a good question for your mother,” replied Cliff, slightly amused.

“I hate my Mom too,” quipped Cecily. “Why can’t you and Miss Emily be my mom and dad?”

This made both Cliff and Emily turn scarlet.

“Cecily, you’re just angry right now,” said Emily. “I know that it must be really very hard for you. You have two really immature parents, who aren’t ready, and don’t deserve a daughter as wonderful as you. Hopefully someday they’ll come around. Until then, Cliff and I can be your adopted or pretend parents.”

“I’m her godfather,” Cliff put in. “You can be her godmother.”

“I wish that Lars wasn’t my Dad,” Cecily spat, tears still pouring down her cheeks. Cliff knew that it was time to put Operation Cecily Ulrich to bed. It had gone way too far, and now it was starting to hurt his little goddaughter.

“Cecily,” he began as he pulled her close. “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but Lars isn’t your Father.”

“Cliff!” Emily gasped. “Whatever are you doing? Telling her that Lars isn’t her dad isn’t going to help. Lars flat out lied to her!”

“Lars didn’t exactly lie to her,” said Cliff. “Well he did, but he didn’t.” He turned his attention back to Cecily. “There’s a chance that he could very well be your dad, but we don’t know that for sure.”

“But Mr. Kirk told me that he was,” returned Cecily. “And Mr. Lars said so too!” A slight sense of urgency had crept up into her little voice.

“They told you wrong,” said Cliff.

“Cliff, if Lars wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he was Cecily’s father, why would be acting like he is?” asked Emily. “He must pay some sort of child support. You don’t do that if you’re not certain.”

“Lars thinks that he’s her father,” Cliff said quietly. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, since he just denied it, but really, he thinks that Cecily is his daughter.”

“He must have good reason to think that then,” said Emily.

“Is Lars my Dad or not?” demanded Cecily.

“We don’t know for sure,” Cliff told her again. “Probably not.”

Cecily’s face fell, and a fresh supply of tears came over her.

“Why did you guys tell me that he was my dad if he isn’t?” she cried, sounding very, very, hurt.

Cliff swallowed. Now, came the hard part. He lit a cigarette to help calm his nerves.

“Mr. Lars wasn’t being very nice to Mr. Kirk,” he began. “So we thought that we’d teach him a lesson, which we didn’t accomplish, but anyway, we decided that it would be fun to make him think that he had a daughter.” Cliff paused to let this all sink in Cecily’s little mind. He continued. “We picked you out to be his pretend daughter.”

“What the hell?” Emily gasped. “You wanted to pull a prank on Lars, so you decided to use a poor, innocent, fatherless, little girl as a mere guinea pig? Did you not think that giving her a father, and then pulling him away would be torture for the girl?”

“Not at the time, no,” Cliff admitted. “We weren’t thinking of that.”

“You were only thinking of yourselves,” Emily spat bitterly. “And just which one of you guys was the sicko that came up with this ridiculous plan?”

“That’d be me,” Cliff muttered, as he took a drag on his cigarette. “It was all my idea.”

“You’re a sick bastard Cliff Burton,” Emily hissed through clenched teeth.

“I was just trying to help Kirk,” Cliff said.

Cecily was again crying. She slithered out of Cliff’s lap and back into Emily’s. Emily pulled the little girl close.

“I hope that you’re happy now,” Emily clipped bitterly. “I hope that you and Kirk are really happy now. You’ve got Lars thinking he has a daughter that he obviously doesn’t know how to care for properly, and you broke a little girl’s heart. I hope that the two minutes of boyish fun was all worth it to you.”

“That’s not fair Emily,” retorted Cliff. “I care about Cecily. I care about her a lot.”

“I bet that was all an act too,” Cecily sniffled. “You didn’t really want to be my friend, or my pretend dad. You just did it on purpose to piss off Mr. Lars!”

“Cecily, you’re a lady. Don’t say piss,” Cliff scolded quietly.

Cecily just looked at Cliff, with glassy tears brimming in her eyes. Cliff looked at her for a moment, but then he just had to look away. He just couldn’t take it. Emily might think that Cecily’s heart was broken, and it probably was, but she wasn’t the only one suffering here.

Cliff had done a lot of stupid shit in his day. Shit that he often felt repulsed and ashamed of doing, such as running over his mother’s gossipy friend Mrs. Wentworth’s dog, stealing out of the collection plate at church, and dumping various girlfriends whenever he randomly decided that he just didn’t love them anymore. But nothing made him feel as shitty and terrible as what he had just done to Cecily. What he had done was practically unforgivable.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Cecily cried to Emily. “I believed that Mr. Lars was my dad, and I believed that Mr. Cliff was my friend. I should have known better. None of my Mom’s boyfriends ever wanted to be my friend. I should have known it was all too good to be true.”

“But I am your friend Cecily,” Cliff said. He tried to grab her hand, but Cecily pulled it away from him as if he had some contagious disease.

“Don’t touch her!” Emily snarled. “I think that you’ve done enough damage to the girl.”

“Just go away Mr. Cliff,” Cecily said through sobs. “Go away.”

Cliff sat back on his heels, and sighed. “Cecily, I really do love you as if you were my own daughter.”

“Yeah right,” Cecily sobbed. “Someday when you have your own real daughter are you going to tell her hurtful lies too?”

“Cess,” Cliff started, but Emily cut him off.

“Give her one good reason why she should believe anything that you say,” she demanded.

Cliff fell silent as he shoved his finished cigarette into some random person’s coat pocket.

“I don’t love you anymore,” Cecily said, and she went back to sobbing. As Emily cradled Cecily, she looked straight at Cliff.

“Get out of here Cliff,” she commanded. “I think that I’ve had quite enough of you Metallica boys for one day.”

Cliff was about to get up when the door to the coat room opened. Kirk’s curly raven haired head poked itself in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked. “An orgy perhaps?”

“Yeah fuck-wad,” Cliff muttered grumpily. “We’re having a fucking orgy back here with the kid.”

Kirk finally noticed Cecily, and blushed.

“Hi there Cecily,” he greeted. “I didn’t see you in here.”

Cecily growled something inaudible at Kirk.

“What’s her problem?” Kirk asked.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Cliff sighed as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his bellbottoms. He suddenly felt cold. Very, very, cold.

“Well anyway, I came in here to tell you that they’re about to announce the winner of the Father of the Year Contest,” said Kirk. “We have to hurry before all of the good seats are taken.”

Cliff really didn’t give two shits and a rat’s ass about the fucking Father of the Year Contest. However, he was obviously not wanted in the coat room, so he followed Kirk back to the main room.

“I told Cecily the truth,” Cliff said to Kirk as they sat down in their seats that were right next to Mr. Chelton’s.

“What?” Kirk asked.

“The truth about Operation Cecily Ulrich,” Cliff said. “We still have to tell Lars the truth, but Cecily knows.”

“Why the hell did you tell her?” Kirk demanded. “Now everything is ruined! She’ll tell Lars, and we won’t get to kick his ass anymore!”

“Because we were hurting her,” Cliff snapped. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cecily and Emily walk to their seats. They made a point to sit far away from Kirk and Cliff, and from where Lars and Torben were sitting. Cecily didn’t even look at Cliff.
Cliff shrunk down in his seat as the lights grew dark, and the crowd grew quiet.

“Here! Here!” Some short, bald, fat, dude from the Danish Men’s League cackled from the podium that was up on the stage. “Ladies and gentleman, boys, and girls, we are gathered here on this fine winter evening to announce the winner of the 1985 Father of the Year Contest. Tonight’s winner will not only receive two concert tickets to the concert of their choice, but they will also receive ten thousand dollars.”

The crowd erupted into a flurry of excited whispers. A different old dude from the men’s league came forward and took the podium.

“We’ve received hundreds of powerful, moving, and most touching essays,” he announced. “One essay talked about how his father worked three different jobs during one holiday season, just so that he could buy his son a bike. Another essay talked about how his father gave him tennis lessons, and sent him to a prestigious tennis camp. One essay talked about how a father donated one of his kidneys to his dying, diabetic, daughter, but there were two essays in particular that really struck a chord with our judges. We have decided that both authors will receive the concert tickets, and they will split the ten thousand dollar prize.”

Again, the room erupted into whispers. Two winners? The Danish Men’s League had never elected two winners.

“I’m going to read short excerpts from both of the winning essays,” announced the old man at the podium. He cleared his throat

A Father’s love is like no one else’s. It’s unselfish, unsurpassed, and unconditional. It doesn’t have to come from a biological father. It can come from a grandfather, uncle, mentor, or even a close friend.

Growing up, I did not have a loving relationship with my father. My father was often away, and when he was at home, he wasn’t very pleasant. He never taught or more importantly, showed, me the meaning of love. Therefore, he never showed or taught me how to grow into a man.

I don’t think that I would have ever have grown into a confident, young, adult if it wasn’t for my mentor. Numerous times he reached out to me, even though he had no obligation to do so. He did it out of the unconditional kindness that is in his heart. The only way that I can even begin to pay him back for the many ways that he has touched my life, is to let him know that his simple acts of love towards me, someone who isn’t even his son by blood, has made a difference in my life. Because of him, I have learned what love is, and have grown into a man. I will never forget the beautiful difference that he has made in my life.

The fact that he did not have to show me this love and kindness makes it the most sincere and unconditional love that I have ever felt or known. It has changed and touched my life forever.”


As the dude finished, the audience broke into applause. Cliff noticed that Kirk’s face went completely white. That had sounded like his essay, didn’t it? Cliff elbowed his friend.

“Wasn’t that your essay Kirk?” he asked.

Kirk looked at Cliff and gave him a nod. “I have no idea how they got it,” he stammered. “Lars had taken it away.” Kirk whirled around in his seat to look at Lars, who was sitting in the back of the room with his father. Lars looked right at Kirk and gave him a tiny smile. A feeling of warmth came over Kirk’s entire body. His essay! His essay had won. The Danish Men’s League had selected his essay for Mr. Chelton!

“I will now read an excerpt from the next winner,” said the Men’s League dude. He began to read

Until very recently, I had never met my biological father. I often thought that I would never experience the love of a father. The day that I met my biological father, I thought that finally, I would get to find out what a father’s love is all about. I most certainly did, but it wasn’t from my biological dad. It was from where I had least expected it to be: from his good friend.

He had no obligation whatsoever, to take me under his wing. No one, not even my own mother, had ever done so before. He taught me things, brushed my hair, gave me piggyback rides, eased my fears, and told me stories. But most of all, he would listen or just spend his spare time with me. For the first time in my life, I felt safe, beautiful, and most of all, loved. The days that we have spent together will not only be my most cherished memories, but they will also be the days that have molded me into a better person, and have opened my eyes up to the world of love. I hope that someday I can grow up to be just as beautiful a person as he has been to me.”



Again the room erupted into applause. Cliff started to look around the room to see if he could guess who had written the second essay. His eyes landed on Kirk, who was turned around in his chair. He was beaming at Cecily. Why in the hell was Kirk beaming at Cecily? Didn’t he know that she was pissed off at them?

The Danish Men’s League dude brought Cliff’s attention back to the stage.

“We would like our two essay writers and their “fathers” to come to the stage and accept their prize. Would Kirk Lee Hammett and his mentor and guitar tech, Henrich A. Chetlon, and Clifford Lee Burton and his goddaughter, Cecily Virginia Ulrich, please come forward…”
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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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Good god woman what a chapter! Sure it was long - but I'm a fast reader :)

I couldn't believe it when Cliff finally told Cecily! I mean, my heart really went out to him, having to hurt her and her getting hurt. Now that was sensitively and brilliantly written (even if it was tedious for ya!).

And Kirk's essay! Once again Lars is raised in my estimations :) It's like the dude is on a seesaw, up one minute, down the next. I no longer want to whack him... And I bet Mr Chelton is just bursting with pride too.

I'm looking forward to see how the next chapter goes, whats going to happen about Cecily winning now Lars isn't her father - what's going to happen when Lars finds out...

Amazing amazing and brilliant!
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Raedoll
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Poor Twisted Me
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Poor Cecily....I feel so bad for her, and Cliff actually feels regret for the stupid things he did. He wants to make it up to her so bad but she doesn't understand that as time goes by people's feelings *change* drastically. Lars is still a little jerk, and I can understand Emily being upset. They've been through so much and Cecily is so broken and damaged now. It's sad she hates Cliff so much :( He's really been good for her, even if he didn't realize it at first how much he loved her. I hope that something can be worked out between them, and that Cecily can forgive Cliff and possibly Emily could forgive him too.
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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:dance :dance Thank for the reviews. I'm glad y'all don't mind the length. This one got a little on the long side to. I think it's because I write bits and pieces throughout the day and then I forget how long they get. :blush:
anywho, this is fun. I like my little mind trips to the Copenhagen opera house. :lol:




Chapter 29- The Intervention of Torben Ulrich


Kirk Hammett felt so much pride swell up in his little body that he felt as if he might burst with excitement and joy. He had never won anything before. The room of people standing up, and cheering and applauding, turned into a blur, as Mr. Chelton threw his arms around him. He had tears of joy in his eyes.

“You had me convinced that you really didn’t send in that essay,” said Mr. Chelton.

“I didn’t,” replied Kirk. “Lars had snatched it away from me.”

Kirk turned to look at Lars again. He was standing up, and clapping. He gave Kirk the horns sign. Lars must have sent it in, Kirk thought. I wonder why the change of heart?

Kirk didn’t have much time to ponder over why Lars had submitted his essay. They had to go to the stage to accept their reward. Cliff was still sitting in his chair, looking like a snowman that had been left out too long in the sun. His long auburn hair hung down over his face, shielding his eyes. Kirk grabbed his arm.

“Come on Cliffy,” he said. “We get our reward now. We each get five thousand dollars!”

Cliff didn’t speak or move. Kirk gave him a shake. “Cliff,” he said. “Come on! Everyone is cheering for us.”

Again, Cliff didn’t move. “CLIFFORD!” Kirk squealed, and with his hand brushed Cliff’s unruly hair out of his face. Cliff had had his hair down over his face for a reason. He was crying.

“What’s the matter Cliff?” Kirk asked, offering him his hand to help him up out of the chair. “Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had anyone write anything so nice about me,” Cliff murmured.

“That’s not true,” Kirk returned. “Remember that stripper out in Vegas who wrote on the bathroom wall that you were the best lover that she’s ever had?”

Cliff was not amused. Kirk blushed. “Cecily had a little, well actually a lot of my help writing that essay. She knew the right person to go to though. She really meant every word of it Cliff, really she did.”

“Not anymore she doesn’t,” Cliff said under his breath. He wiped the snot that was drizzling out of his nose on the sleeve of Kirk’s spiffy denim blazer that he was wearing. Heaven forbid he go up on stage in front of all of Copenhagen with snot dancing out of his nose.

“I can’t believe she did that for me,” Cliff whispered to Kirk as they made their way to the stage.

“You deserve it,” Kirk replied with a shrug. “She wanted you to know that she looks up to you.”

“But I hurt her!” Cliff exclaimed. “I lied to her. I deceived her. I fucked with her mind all just to get a good rise out of Lars!”

“Well obviously she wrote the essay before she knew that you did all that,” Kirk replied, but for some reason that didn’t make Cliff feel any better.

Cliff wasn’t the only one who was avoiding going up to the stage. Emily gave Cecily a nudge.

“Go on Cecily,” she said. “Your essay won.”

“I can’t go up there now,” Cecily answered. “Things have changed. It was all a lie. The essay is a lie.”

“We’ll take care of that later,” Emily told her as she tried to somewhat smooth out Cecily’s wild hair. “Just go up to the stage like a good girl. You’ll get your reward, have your picture taken, and then I’ll take you home.”

“Promise?” Cecily asked. Home sounded like a good place to be right now.

“Promise,” Emily nodded. She watched as the little girl gingerly made her way to the stage. That essay that she wrote was lovely, Emily thought. She either had help, or she’s the smartest five-year-old on the planet. It’s such a shame that Cliff turned out to be such a creep. She had really looked up to him.

Cecily took a deep breath as she climbed the steps to the stage. She could see Caroline, Amanda, and Isadora all sitting in the crowd, shocked and dumbfounded over just who in the hell this Cliff dude even was. Normally, she would have been quite pleased that she had won. Her essay had beaten theirs. She had won the money, not them. But now, it didn’t seem like much of a victory. Cecily stood off to the side, keeping her distance from Cliff. Cliff also was keeping his distance. He looked at Cecily briefly, and gave her a quick nod. Cecily looked away.

“The Copenhagen paper would like to get a picture of our winners,” said the bald fat man. “We’ll get a group shot first, and then individual ones of the two pairs.”

Cliff clamored in next to Kirk for the group shot. Cecily went out of her way to stand next to Mr. Chelton.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Kirk asked Cliff as they waited for the photographer to snap the picture. “I’m going to ask if they’ll let us have copies of these photos. We can use them in The Metallinews.

“This ain’t going in The Metallinews Kirk,” Cliff snapped.

“Why of course it is!” Kirk argued. “We finally have something good to write about. My Mother is going to be so pleased to read that I won an essay contest, and I want her to know about Mr. Chelton.”

And my mother will be upset and horrified when she finds out about what I did to poor Cecily, Cliff bitterly thought. This should have been one of his greatest achievements. An achievement that he would have wanted everyone to know about, but instead he was upset and embarrassed. Winning the competition had made everything so much worse.

“Okay you two,” the photographer had finished Kirk and Mr. Chelton’s photo. He motioned to Cliff and Cecily. “You’re next.”

Wearily, Cliff and Cecily walked over towards where the photographer was pointing. They both stood a great distance from each other.

“Act like you two like each other,” the photographer joked. “How about you pick her up and hold her?” he instructed to Cliff. “You two both have long, wild, hair. It will be a cute photo.”

“Do I really have to hold her?” Cliff asked. Disgust was in his tone.

“Yeah,” said the photographer, who was a little taken aback by Cliff’s reaction. “You have a problem with that?”

“Yes,” said Cecily. “I don’t want him holding me.”

The photographer was clearly confused. This was Father of the Year. The girl had just written this touchy-feely, feel goody, and tear jerking, essay on the guy, and now she didn’t want him to hold her?

“Uh okay,” he stammered. “Could you at least put your hands on her shoulders then?” he asked Cliff. Cliff nodded.

“Come here Cecily,” he said.

Cecily just stared up at Cliff.

“Little girl,” said the photographer. “He’s your dad. He’s not going to bite you. You wrote an essay about him.”

Grudgingly, as if she were on her way to the guillotine, Cecily walked over and stood in front of Cliff. Cliff lightly put his hands on her shoulders.

“This is going to be adorable,” the photographer gushed as he disappeared behind his camera. “This will be the front of your families Christmas card for sure!”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Cliff quipped.

“Now on the count of three say cheese,” said the photographer.

Neither said anything as the photographer snapped the picture. Both Cliff and Cecily were frowning. Cecily was downright sulking, and Cliff looked rather miserable.

The fat old dude from the Danish Men’s League handed Kirk an envelope. Kirk turned and gave the envelope to Mr. Chelton.

“Two box seat tickets to see Yngwie Malmsteen!” Mr. Chelton said and let out a low whistle. “Kirk Lee Hammett you do spoil me!”

“It’s the least that I could do,” Kirk replied. “And just think, he’ll be using the guitar that you fixed for him.”

Cliff felt someone tug on the back of his blazer. He turned around to find Cecily standing right behind him.

“Hey,” he said sadly.

Without saying anything, Cecily handed Cliff an envelope. Cliff opened the envelope to find two front row concert tickets to the Misfits. He swallowed. Now he was totally blown away by how sweet Cecily had been to him. She had chosen his favorite band to go see.

“Your essay was beautiful,” he said. “It even made me cry.”

“Good,” snapped Cecily. “Because you sure as hell have made me cry a lot tonight.”

“Don’t say hell,” Cliff scolded, but Cecily rolled her eyes and continued on

“The essay doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. “You take the tickets. I don’t want them.”

You’re going to come with me to the concert, right?” Cliff asked.

Cecily shook her head.

“I no longer want to see you anymore,” Cecily retorted. “The Misfits kind of scare me, and since I no longer have a father to keep me safe from things, I don’t want to go. Take Mr. Kirk instead. You two can plan more lies to tell to little girls.” And with that, she flounced off.

“Cecily!” Cliff yelled. “Come back here! Quit being a brat! Cecily! Cecily Virginia!”

Cecily stopped, whirled around to face Cliff, and flicked him off.

“Cecily!” Cliff yelped.

“You taught me that!” The little girl yelled, and then took off to go and find Emily.

Meanwhile, Kirk had caught up with Lars.

“Lars!” he exclaimed. “You sent in my essay! You really sent in my essay!” He threw his arms around Lars’s neck.

“Jesus!” Lars spat. “Knock it off Kirk, you chode! You’re choking the fock out of me.”

“I can’t believe that you sent it in,” said Kirk.

“Don’t ask so focking surprised,” shot Lars. “I’m not a flaming asshole all of the time. Just only when life warrants it.”

“But you were so opposed to me entering Mr. Chelton because he’s not my real dad,” mumbled Kirk. “Whatever made you change your mind?”

Lars looked away from Kirk. He was scanning the room for chicks. Finally, he said

“Cliff made me.”

“Really?” Kirk asked. “Cliff convinced you to send it in? What’d he do? Did he try to drown you in the hotel swimming pool as well?”

“Heavens no!” Lars gasped. “Stop being a rat turd Kirk. It was just from watching him with Cecily, and how much she grew to adore him. Fock, I hate to admit it but she fancies him over me. He’s not her real dad, but well you know.”

“Oh Lars,” Kirk breathed as he gave Lars another little squeeze. “I just knew that you’d come around. I just knew that you would.”

“Since my dad is in the Danish Men’s League, they let me submit it even though it was after the deadline,” Lars put in as he lit up a cigarette.

Speaking of Lars’s dad, Torben Ulrich came up behind them. He put a hand on Kirk’s shoulder.

“Congratulations Kirk,” he said. He turned to Lars. “So when am I going to meet my granddaughter?” he asked.

Lars looked around. “She should be around here somewhere,” he replied, scanning the crowd. Fock. Where in the hell did the brat go?

“You don’t even know where your own daughter is Lars?” Torben asked disapprovingly. “If you want to be a proper parent, you’re going to have to keep a better eye on her, especially when she turns sixteen.”

“Well, I’m kind of new to this whole daddy thing,” Lars quipped.

“I imagine that it came as quite a shock,” Torben replied. “It will shock the hell out of your mother. She still thinks that you’re a virgin. You know how your mother is.”

“Mum will love Cecily, won’t she?” Lars asked. “I mean, she’s always wanted a little girl and shit.”

“I suppose she will,” Torben answered. “Lars, if you don’t mind me asking, just how did you find out that Cecily was your daughter?”

“I received a letter from her attorney,” replied Lars.

“Lars, little girls don’t have attorneys,” Torben explained. “Her mother might have one.”

“Her mother had nothing to do with us reuniting,” snapped Lars. “If anything, she tried to keep me away from my own daughter by keeping her a secret.

“I’m just trying to protect you Lars,” said Torben. “How do we know that Cecily’s mother isn’t just trying to soak you for money?”

Kirk burst out laughing

“Trust me Mr. Ulrich,” he laughed. “Cecily’s mother is a raging whore. She’s slept with plenty of men far richer than Lars. If she were in it for the money, she’d have picked someone who had way more money than your son does.”

Torben stared at Kirk through beady little eyes, and frowned at him.

“I’ve always thought that you were a petulant, precocious, little fool,” he scoffed. He turned back to his son. “Did you ask for a paternity test?”

“A what?” Lars asked. He didn’t understand why his father just couldn’t be happy for him. He was a daddy. Shouldn’t he be proud for his son?

“A paternity test,” Torben repeated. “Did you ask for one?”

“I don’t know what that is,” admitted Lars, turning red.

“It’s a DNA test that proves paternity,” Kirk chirped in a know-it-all tone.

“Mr. Hammett that will be quite enough,” Torben snapped. “I can handle my son by myself.

Kirk grumbled something under his breath that sounded like “ass prick,” but he did shut his mouth after that.

“You are well within your rights to request a paternity test,” said Torben. “Actually, you should do so before you pay any child support.”

“I’ve already been paying child support,” returned Lars. “I’m trying to make up for all of the years that I didn’t pay any.”

“I don’t think the government will even accept child support without a proof of paternity,” Torben answered, thoughtfully stroking his beard.

“I don’t pay the government,” said Lars.

“You’re most certainly not paying the mother directly I hope!” Torben exclaimed.

“Oh no,” said Lars. “I make the checks out to Cecily’s attorney.”

“You mean her mother’s attorney,” corrected Torben. “This kind of sounds fishy. Just who is this attorney?”

“Mikail W. Gurken,” said Lars. “And I’m pretty sure that Cecily hired him.”

“I know Mr. Gurken very well,” said Torben.

“You do?” Lars asked, wide eyed.

“Of course,” said Torben. “We’ve played tennis together. He’s a prominent Danish attorney. He’s a good friend of mine. I’ll call him up tomorrow morning and ask him if he can get an ordered paternity test. I just don’t want you paying and caring for a daughter that isn’t really yours, especially if her mother is the town harlot.”

Kirk’s eyes went wide! “Oh no!” he thought. “Mr. Gurken was never supposed to find out about their plan! It was never supposed to go this far, only Lars and Cecily were supposed to know. We could get in very big trouble here, since outside parties are now getting involved. They could book us for slander!

Kirk let out a frightened squeak.

“I thought I told you that I’ve heard enough out of you!” Torben demanded at Kirk.

Kirk had turned very, very, pale, and his heart was racing, a mile a minute. Mr. Gurken wasn’t supposed to find out about this. He had to do something, but what? Find Cliff. Cliff would know just what to do, he always did. He had to find Cliff, and he had to find him fast…
















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MissMetallica;;
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Oh NO!! oh no no no no NO!!! torben GO AWAY. :lol: we dont want you putting idea's into little lars' head.

these two updates were amazing, and the lengths were just fine :)
its also been good to see that lars can be nice when he wants too.

i feel so sorry for cecily, her poor little heart must be shattered into a million pieces on hearing what cliff has done. but i really hope she can find it in her heart to forgive him. but cliff has alot of making up to do for her.

and cliff, he had no idea what this would do emotionly to cecily. and now he's just screwed everything up :(

“It will shock the hell out of your mother. She still thinks that you’re a virgin. You know how your mother is.”

^^ that line made me laugh so hard! lars' mother still thinking he's a virgin hahaha god she has no idea then!

fantastic updates, cant wait for more!
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Verity
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This update was fun. I was loopy which even made it funner. (Yeah that isn't a word, but it can be for today).
We have some friends staying with us and we polished off some wine last night, so if this update is a little crass. blame the wine. :)

Kristen-Thanks for your sweet review. I'm glad that the lengths were okay, and I am VERY surprised that you recognized me. You get the gold star of the day for that. I'm not used to anyone even knowing about us. That was pretty cool.


back to the weirdness...




Chapter 30- Metallica in Trouble

Cliff Burton chucked the empty ice cream container across the room. It missed the trash can and instead landed on the floor next to it, along with the seven other empty ice cream containers, and the empty box of Danish truffles that Cliff had also polished off that same very evening. He reached over to his night table and finished off the bottle of Jim Beam that he had been drinking.

I’m a piece of shit,” he thought wistfully, as he put out his joint in the empty whiskey bottle. It was only nine o’clock, but Cliff had had quite enough of this very, very, shitty-ass evening. Kirk was not yet back from the gala. Cliff didn’t expect him back for quite sometime, especially since he had that Missy chick with him.

As Cliff reached over to turn off his bedside lamp, he caught sight of Cecily’s purple rose and the two Misfits tickets. He couldn’t even bear to look at them. They made him feel almost sick. Would little Cecily be crying herself to sleep tonight? To top it all off, Cecily’s purple rose was even wilting a bit. Cliff turned off the lamp and snuggled down deep under the bed covers. He had just fallen into a sugar coated, pot and alcohol induced sleep, when the phone rang.

“Ah shit,” he muttered, as he felt around the bedside table for the phone. “Hello,” he croaked groggily.

“Do you want to explain to me just why in the hell you decided to break my little daughter’s heart tonight?” Claudia’s irate voice screamed out of the receiver. “I know that you metal rock people like to skin puppies and screw groupies, but torturing a poor little five-year-old is way out of line!”

“I’ve never skinned a puppy!” A half asleep Cliff replied hotly.

“The only thing that I’ve ever wanted was for Cecily to have a loving father figure in her life!” screamed Claudia. “You’ve’ ruined that for her! You’ve ruined that for her forever! My little girl is so crushed tonight that she won’t eat, and she won’t stop crying!”

That’s not what I needed to hear,” Cliff bitterly thought to himself.

“I can’t believe that you would play such a sick joke on an innocent little girl!” Claudia ranted on. “I should have known better than to have let her hang around with you! You’re scum! Filth!”

“Hey!” Cliff cut her off. “I’m not the one who doesn’t know who my kid’s father is.”

“How could you lie to her?” Claudia demanded. “How could you give her a father, and then take him away?”

“If you had known who Cecily’s real father was this never would have happened!” retorted Cliff. “Maybe you should keep a better track record of who you’re sleeping with! Like write it down on a fucking calendar or something!”

“Don’t make this about me!” Claudia yelled. Cliff could hear that she was starting to break down crying. He didn’t care if he had made the fucking slut cry. He despised Claudia with a passion.

“You really do have no heart,” Claudia cried. “You have no idea what it’s like trying to raise a child alone.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” Cliff snapped. “For the past couple of weeks you couldn’t even be bothered by your own daughter. I’ve been the one looking after her while your off getting your pussy, if it hasn’t been already, fucked out of it’s snatch by my band mate!”

“Mr. Burton!” Claudia gasped, falling speechless.

“You’re a whore and lousy excuse for a mom!” Cliff spat. “And for Cecily’s sake, I hope that she does find her real dad someday, and that he takes her far away from you!” And with that, he slammed down the phone.

“I just want to fall asleep for a very, very, long time,” Cliff sighed as he once again snuggled deep down into the covers.

He had been asleep for all of ten minutes, when James began to pound on his door.

“Burton!” he bellowed, waking up the entire fourth floor of the hotel in the process. “You open up this cock sucking door this instant!”

“Fuck you!” Cliff yelled.

“You open up now or else your ass is out of Metallica, and on a boat, steerage, back to San Francisco!” James yelled. Actually to Cliff, that didn’t sound quite so bad.

“You wouldn’t really put me in steerage, would you?” Cliff wearily asked. “Couldn’t I at least ride in second class?”

“Fuck no! We did it to Mustaine, and we’ll do it to you! And trust me, steerage on a smelly old boat is a hell of a lot shittier than Mustaine’s cross country bus ride!”

Cliff rolled out of bed, and fumbled his way over to the door and opened it.

“What the fuck do you want James?” he growled.

“Do you wish to explain to me as to why my girlfriend has just called me up crying?” demanded James as he let himself into the room.

“Not really,” Cliff replied. “Apparently, I’m good at making people cry today.”

“You had no business lashing out at my girlfriend!” James spat. “I know that you’re jealous that Claudia likes me, and not you, but believe me! I have no desire to be Cecily’s fatherly friend. That can all be you. I just want to bang her mom. I could care less about the brat!”

This time, it was Cliff who burst into tears. The sugar, pot, and alcohol had made him very weepy.

“Don’t call her that!” he cried. “I told her about Lars not being her Dad. I told her everything, and she really took it hard.”

“Well of course she would,” snapped James. “She thought that she could trust you.”

“She wrote her Father of the Year essay about me,” Cliff sobbed. “She wrote it for me, honoring me, only to have me turn around and hurt her.”

“We could always go down to the orphanage down the street and pick out a different five-year-old girl for you to play with,” James suggested. He picked up Cliff’s bottle of Jim Beam and went to take a swig from it. When he saw that it was indeed empty, he frowned, and chucked it across the room.

“Do you want to know what else she did?” Cliff asked.

“Sucked your dick,” guessed James.

“That’s gross James!” Cliff scowled. “Jesus, you can be sick sometimes.”

“Hey, you like em young,” shrugged James.

Cliff rolled his eyes in disgust.

“Her essay won, and she chose the Misfits as the concert that she wanted free tickets to. She gave me the two tickets,” he said. “She gave them to me, because she knows that I like them so.”

“No fuck!” gasped James. “You have two tickets to see the Misfits?”

Cliff nodded and reached over to the bedside table, and picked up the envelope with the tickets.

“Dude!” James gasped. “Since the brat doesn’t like you anymore, can I go with you instead? Please?”

“You can fucking have them,” Cliff replied. He thrust the tickets at James. “I no longer want to go.”

“Cliff, have you fucking lost your mind?” James asked. “We’re talking about The Misfits here!”

“I just can’t go,” Cliff sadly sighed. “The Misfits will only make me think of Cecily.”

“Well I’m going to see them,” James scoffed as he shoved the prized front row tickets deep into the pocket of his tight jeans (jeans so tight that the tickets barely scrunched down into the pocket).

As James stood up to leave, he turned around to look at his pathetic friend who was sitting on the edge of the bed, tears trickling down his face, hair tangled, and staring blankly off into the distance.

“I’m really sorry about Cecily,” James said. “I know that you took a liking to the kid.”

Just then, Kirk burst through the door, panting, out of breath. His mass of dark curls spiraling in every direction like a deranged halo.

“Guys! We have a great tragedy!” he wailed.

“What’s that Kirk?” James asked. “Your period start?”

Kirk looked at James and glared.

“We have to be serious now!” he demanded. “We are all in very real trouble here.”

“My ass is already cooked anyway,” Cliff shrugged. “Things possibly couldn’t get any worse.”

“They are Cliff,” Kirk replied. “They are. Lars’s dad is big buddies with Mikhail Gurken. He’s going to call him tomorrow and ask him about Cecily.”

Cliff put his head in his hands.

“No fuck,” muttered James. “Well, at least my ass is in the clear. I wasn’t the one who randomly chose a friend of Torben Ulrich’s to be Cecily’s false attorney.”

“No, but you were the one who happily set up a fake bank account in his name, and spent Lars’s child support checks on all kinds of fucking shit that you didn’t need,” Cliff spat.

James went white, he also fell very silent. He fumbled around the night table, to see if Cliff had any candy left.

“The IRS will come and take away all that shit,” Cliff went on. “They’ll take away the skis, the clothes, that stupid mink lined jacket.”

“Oh they will not!” retorted James. “They don’t have the IRS in Denmark. If anything, that Gurken dude is going to go after you for writing a false letter from him, and forging his signature.”

“Whatever are we going to do?” Kirk wailed.

Cliff looked thoughtful.

“There’s only one thing that we can do,” he replied.

“Flee from Denmark?” Kirk asked.

“No,” Cliff shook his head and looked around for a cigarette. “We have to call up this Mr. Gurken dude, and speak with him before Mr. Ulrich does. We’ll probably have to set up an appointment with him, and maybe we can talk him into going easy on us.”

“But an appointment with an attorney, will cost money,” Kirk pointed out.

“We just won ten thousand dollars between the two of us,” Cliff said. “Though I was hoping on putting my half towards Cecily’s college fund.”

“We can bribe him with the money not kick our asses,” said James.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Cliff said. “You better start taking all of that shit you bought back to the stores James.”

“Lars wants a paternity test from him though,” said Kirk. “Who knows? Maybe Lars is really Cecily’s father. She does have the right to know. And who knows? Maybe Mr. Gurken will be a Metallica fan.”

“More than likely he’s one of Torben’s cronies,” quipped James.

“Bring Missy along,” Cliff said to Kirk. “We’ll need the T and A to help us out tomorrow. Attorneys like pretty girls.”

“How do you know?” Kirk asked.

“Because he has a dick!” Cliff snapped.

“But why do we have to use my girl?” Kirk asked.

“Because James’s girl is an absolute whore of nature, and I can’t seem to manage to get myself laid,” Cliff returned.

“Well I just hope this all works out,” Kirk sighed.

“I just hope that I can do something to earn back Cecily’s trust,” sighed Cliff.

“And I just hope that this Mikhail Gurken dude lets me keep the mink lined jacket,” sighed James…





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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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Absolutely crazy! What an update!

- “Don’t ask so focking surprised,” shot Lars. “I’m not a flaming asshole all of the time. Just only when life warrants it.” -
That was fabulous, truly fabulous. It really did sum up Lars for the whole of this!

But Mr Gurkhen being a friend of Torbens- oh no oh no! What are they going to do? Well apart from bring in the T & A.

I feel so so sorry for Cliff, I really do. You know that if he is passing up a chance to see the misfits that things really truly are bad for him.

I can't wait to see what happens next in this story - it's simply so so awesome. You are one talented woman :)
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Raedoll
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Oh my gosh. :( Cecily's shattered....that poor little girl. Cliff has been through so much already, and he loves Cecily to death. I wish she'd trust him again, he was so good for her. I'm kind of glad Cliff lashed out at Claudia the way he did, and told her off. James is an ass only worrying about himself, and I don't know about this Mr. Gurken dude...Blargh, I'm worried about Cliff and Cecily!! I hope they can build back some of the things they had. Just because Cecily needs a parental figure in her life, and Cliff's just what the doctor ordered. I hope that somehow he can get custody of her and get her to a happy time in her life. Lars is an idiot, Kirk slipped, and Torben is just being a bit of a jerk. Poor kirk :( I hope htings work out for them, and James is a dick for threatening to put Cliff in Steerage.
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MissMetallica;;
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this update was great, and i agree with edgirl, im glad that cliff had a go at claudia, she deserves it.

i really hope cecily can forgive cliff, but she has no idea how bad he feels about it. somehow she needs to find out how much he REALLY loves her.

hopefully james, cliff and kirk can talk mr gurken into helping them out. otherwise i think torben and lars and going to be very.. very.. very mad.

and ashley, i finally put 2 and 2 together and realised who you were :lol: harptallica rocks :horns:

cant wait for more!
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Verity
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This chapter was supposed to be bad-ass and profound. It was supposed to be action packed with all kinds of good shit going down. Somehow, I got distracted and ended up with a chapter of fluff and fodder. Y'all have my appologies in advance. It's kind of a sucky chapter, but better than none. And it was somewhat amusing to write. :dance



Chapter 31- A Metallica Morning :drool (has nothing to do with the chapter I just like that guy).


Kirk was up at the crack of dawn the very next morning. Someone had to call Gurken’s office and nab them an appointment. Cliff was still in a very deep sugar, pot, and alcohol induced sleep, and James had crashed on their floor.

Kirk slipped out of bed, put on his moccasins, (another birthday gift from Mom) and carefully stepped over the sleeping James. Last night before going to bed, Cliff had looked up Mikhail Gurken’s number in the phonebook, and had left out by the phone. Kirk’s heart started to race as he dialed the number.

“Hello, Mikhail W. Gurken’s office,” a voice answered. “To whom may I direct your call?”

Well that was a stupid question. Who in the hell did she think that he wanted to talk to?

“Why to Mikhail W. Gurken of course,” replied Kirk politely.

“May I ask why you are calling?” the voice asked.

“I need to set up an appointment with him,” Kirk rambled. “It’s urgent. I need to see him as soon as possible.”

“Have you been battered or abused by your spouse?” asked the voice.

This is fucked up,” thought Kirk. “No,” he replied. “Of course not.”

“Can you wait to see him Friday?” said the voice. “He’s a very busy man.”

Considering that today was only Wednesday, Friday would be much too late. They just had to get speak with this man before Torben Ulrich did.

“Yes,” Kirk said. “I’ve been battered and abused, but it’s not from my spouse. My band mate Lars has beaten the shit out of me. I can hardly walk.”

“Have you had medical attention?” asked the voice.

“I just really need to talk with Mr. Gurken,” said Kirk.

“Very well,” the voice sighed. “But he is really booked up today. Can you be down here in fifteen minutes?”

Kirk looked over to the bed at the passed out Cliff, who was totally submerged under the bed covers, and to the floor, where the half naked sleeping James had one hand deep down inside of his own boxer shorts.

“I think so,” he replied.

The person on the phone took down Kirk’s name, and told him to be prompt. Mr. Gurken would only have a few minutes in which to see them.

Kirk gingerly went over to the sleeping James and poked him.

“Fuck off Hammett,” he growled.

“We have to get up,” said Kirk. “We have to be to Mr. Gurken’s office in fifteen minutes.”

At the sound of Mr. Gurken’s name, Cliff sat up immediately.

Fifteen fucking minutes?” he asked, a tad annoyed. Kirk nodded.

Cliff didn’t ask anymore questions. He got up, threw on a pair of bellbottoms, chose to keep on the same wrinkled shirt that he had just slept in, and grabbed his coat and pack of cigarettes.

“I’m ready,” he said.

The trio made a quick pit stop to pick up a confused Missy, who had no idea why everyone was awake so early in the morning.

“This fucking blows,” James muttered as they went outside into the freezing, frigid, Danish winter morning.

“It’s really not that bad,” Kirk sighed as he pulled Missy close to keep her warm. “The little village is just awaking for a new day. I can smell fresh bread baking from the baker’s, and I can see the little snow covered steeple from the church. It looks just like a Currier and Ives lithograph.”

“Dude,” James said. “I want whatever you’ve been smoking.”

“I haven’t been smoking anything,” replied a confused Kirk.

“Then why are you so fucking happy all of the time?” snapped James.

“I’m happy all of the time because I choose to see the wonderful things in life, such as this morning. It’s a beautiful winter morning,” Kirk retorted. Just then, a horse drawn sleigh sped by, splashing disgusting grayish slush all over them. Missy shrieked as slush went all over her brand new and very pretty white velvet coat.

“Yeah,” James yelped as he cursed at and flipped off the sleigh driver. “It’s a fucking beautiful winter morning alright.”

Kirk turned to console the crying Missy, and wipe her coat off with his plaid, cashmere, scarf.

Cliff had been spared getting splattered by the slush. He had been standing away from the edge of the street, gazing in the window at the toy shop.

“Come along now Cliff!” James snapped and grabbed his arm. “Stop dawdling!”

Cliff pointed to a stuffed dog that was in the window

“Do you think if I bought Cecily that stuffed dog, she would like me again?” he asked.

“No!” shot James. “You’ve bought the ungrateful brat enough shit. And even if you bought her every fucking dress in the world, and lunch with Glen Danzig himself, she’d still hate you.”

Cliff frowned, but turned away from the window. “I was even going to start reading her some of my Lovecraft books.”

“That would have been real good for her,” James quipped. “We would have had an insipid and suicidal five-year-brat on our hands.”

“Fuck you prick!” Cliff shouted, and he shoved James right into a snow bank. James yelped as the entire ass of his jeans was engulfed with snow. Cliff began to madly hurl snow balls at James as if they were torpedoes. “Take that you motherfucker!” he shouted. “And quit calling Cecily a brat!”

“You quit calling her mom a whore!” shouted James. Poor James had chunks of ice and snow hanging from his golden locks like iridescent pearls. Tiny little snowflakes gleamed from their hiding places inside of the poor excuse for a beard that James was trying to grow. James picked himself up out of the snow bank, and grabbed a huge, huge, block of ice. He began to run towards Cliff with it at full force.

Cliff curled up into a little ball on the cold, icy, ground, and brought his hands up over his head.

“Don’t hurt me James!” he pathetically wailed.

“Guys! Crikey!” Kirk exclaimed. “Can’t I take you two fucks anywhere? We’re here now! Look!”

James, who was still holding the big block of ice up over his head, stopped, and turned to look up at the high rise building that they were in front of. The words “Mikhail W. Gurken, Attorney at Law” was painted on the glass windows.

“Ah fuck,” James muttered, as he set down the block of ice. “I’ll deal with you later Burton,” he snarled at Cliff.

The unlikely quartet trooped into the warm high rise building. With the exception of Missy, the Metallica boys were way under dressed to meet with such a high powered attorney. The inside of the building was all ash colored marble, with art deco light fixtures.

“We’re here to see Mr. Mikhail W. Gurken please,” Kirk said to the receptionist.

“His office is up on the twentieth floor,” the receptionist replied. She gestured towards the elevator.

“He sure must be important,” Kirk mused, as they all piled into the elevator. “Anyone who has an office on the twentieth floor of a high rise is always important.”

“Well this is sure a fine kettle of fish,” James sulked. “I know that you guys needed to find a lawyer for Operation Cecily Ulrich, but you didn’t have to find the fanciest, high-powered, lawyer in all of Denmark.”

“How the fuck was I to know?” Cliff snapped. “I chose him randomly out of a phonebook.”

“Just like you choose random children to befriend?” James shot.

“Fuck you, you Nut Sack!” Cliff snarled, and he went to rip James’s hair out of his head, but Missy intervened.

“Speaking of children,” she said. “You two are sure acting like some.”

*******

“Cecily!” Claudia barked. “It’s time to get up and get ready for school! Now hurry up! I have a very busy day today because of that convention that’s coming in to town!”

Why?” thought Cecily. “Because of all the extra pastries that you have to make, or because of all the extra businessmen that are around to fuck?” Cecily just had to laugh a little at the thought, for that would have been something that Mr. Cliff would have said.

But Mr. Cliff was no more, at least to Cecily he was. She knew that she had to try and forget him, but it would be so hard. As she rolled out of bed, the first thing that she saw was the magnificent purple dress hanging over her chair. She also remembered that today was Wednesday, bass day.

For the past couple of weeks Cliff had been giving Cecily bass lessons on Wednesday afternoons. He had even found an unused children’s size bass that had been sitting in the store room over in the recording studio. Flemming had said that Cecily could borrow it to practice on until its owner came and claimed it. The bass was a piece of shit really, but at least Cecily could have it all to herself, and it was a quite a bit smaller than Cliff’s bass which was really too big for her. He had been trying to teach her the bass line to Black Sabbath’s Paranoid.

“It really stinks that Mr. Cliff hates me,” Cecily said to herself as she got dressed. “I had worked so hard on Paranoid this week.

And she most certainly had. She had religiously spent forty-five minutes a day trying to work on the riffs that Cliff had showed her, all so that she could impress him at her next lesson. Now, she would never get the chance.

Cecily brought the bass over to her bed and sat down. She began to plunk out the bass line that he had showed her. She had nailed it, well, as much as a five-year-old can nail a bass line.

“Cecily!” Claudia yelled. “Put that infernal thing away, and get ready for school!”

“I guess I am going to have to give this bass back to him,” Cecily sighed to herself. “I don’t want to have to see Mr. Cliff again, but it’s not my bass.” She carefully placed the bass back in the case. “Maybe I’ll see him down in the lobby this afternoon, and I can give him his bass back.”

As Cecily snapped the bass case shut, little tears began to prickle in her eyes again. As much as she really wanted to make it through one chapter of this inane story without bursting into tears, she just couldn’t. She had grown to enjoy her bass lessons, and now they were over. And even though he wasn’t her real dad, she had enjoyed having Cliff around as a father figure, and now that was over as well.

Cliff had also promised to take her to afternoon tea down in the hotel lobby on Friday afternoon. She wouldn’t be doing that as well, unless…

“Mummy,” Cecily spoke up.

“What now Cecily!” Claudia returned as she scurried around the small hotel room, more preoccupied with getting her own self dressed.

“Do you think that you could take me to tea on Friday afternoon?” Cecily asked sheepishly.

“Oh Cecily, go ask Mr. Cl-” Claudia was about to tell Cecily to go ask Cliff to take her to tea, but she caught herself. “Cecily,” she said in a sweeter tone. “You know that I have to work hun.”
Claudia sat down on the bed next to her daughter, and lit a cigarette. “I really wish that I could though.”

“But tea’s at three-thirty,” Cecily whined. “Surely you don’t have anything that you have to bake at three-thirty.”

“You know that late afternoon is when I go have coffee with Mr. James,” Claudia replied. “And we know that Mr. James isn’t going to be down with having afternoon tea.”

Cecily’s face fell. She looked as if she could burst into tears at any given moment.

“You know Cecily, if you’d like, I can give your bass to James to take back to Cliff,” Claudia suggested, feeling somewhat guilty.

“It’s alright,” Cecily sighed. “I can handle it.”

“I know that you’re upset about what Cliff did to you,” Claudia said. “You have every right to hate him.”

“I don’t hate him,” Cecily murmured. “I told him that I did, but I didn’t really mean it. I just know that he didn't really like hanging out with me."

Claudia took a long drag on her cigarette.

“I sure would hate him if he had done all that to me,” she said.

“Even though everything was all an act at least Mr. Cliff spent time with me,” Cecily sighed. “Which is more than I can say for my real dad.”

“Cecily baby, I’m sorry but I don’t know who your real father is,” Claudia confessed. She walked over, and put her arms around her daughter. “I honestly don’t know. Lars would be a possibility, but I don’t know for sure. I’m so sorry. You’d think that the least that I could do for you is be able to tell you who your real father is, but I can’t.”

“Are you sure?” Cecily asked. “Don’t you have any idea Mummy?”

Claudia gave her daughter another hug and sighed

“There’s at least eight possibilities, and three of those I don’t even have names for. I’m sorry Sweetheart. Finding your father is one thing that I just can't do for you.” She smoothed out Cecily’s hair. Cecily looked absolutely heartbroken. “But, you want to know what I [I[can[/I] do?” Claudia asked.

“What’s that?” said Cecily.

“I think that I can reschedule Mr. James for another day,” said Claudia as she smoothed out a rather stubborn strand of Cecily’s hair. “And keep Friday afternoon open just to have tea with my little daughter…”






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MissMetallica;;
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Poor Twisted Me
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awww maybe claudia isnt such a bad mother after all.. even though there is 8 possible fathers of cecily.. hahah shes such a tramp.

i can just picture little cecily with her little kids sized bass, and its good to hear that she doesnt hate cliff. YAY. now all cliff has to do is convince her that he wasn't just hanging out with her because of operation cecily ulrich.

another fantastic 'episode' :D i love coming home from school of an afternoon to see that you have another chapter ready for me to read.

thanks alot ashley! :) i really truely cannot wait for more.
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Raedoll
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Poor Twisted Me
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That's really, really terrible. I feel very bad for Cliff, because he's drunk and high on pot and sugar and urgh. The poor thing. James is being a jerk, I don't like him. Claudia is starting to warm up to Cecily, and I'm really happy. But I guess that Mr. Gurken is going to be a plight old stiff. Blergh. I'm really eager to see what's going to happen next!!!
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