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Daughter of the Year; Ze Sequel to Father of the Year
Topic Started: December 14, 2007, 12:15 am (11,151 Views)
Verity
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The Story Girl
[ * ]
Maggie- I'm glad that you liked the Irish drinking song bit. I love Irish drinking songs and had a couple of them going through my head as I was writing this. :)

Shayi- I know what you mean about the frizz. My hair can dry so frizzy that I can't even get a brush through it. The only time I can get it halfway straight is to have a professional do it. Since that gets expensive, my hair looks like shit most of the time. Hurrah for French braids and pony tails!

Rae- You made me hungry. I love bon bons and chocolate fondue. Chocolate is my downfall. :drool

Vanessa- Clarisse is the epitome of evil. Unfortunately I know someone who in real life pulled a similiar stunt except it was a hysterectomy. Clarisse's character is based on that person. I figured Clarisse was too young for that to be very believable. They're some really shitty people out there.





Chapter Forty-Six


Clarisse had to be to the hospital in San Francisco by ten in the morning. That meant that in order to get there from White Rock, they’d have to leave by seven at the latest. Francesca was concerned about morning rush hour traffic, so she even wanted to leave closer to six.

Doctor Ken had told Clarisse to wear something comfortable like a sweat suit to the hospital. He said that it should have an elastic waist since her waist and stomach area was where she was going to be operated on. Even though she had taken his advice, she still had done her full face of makeup. Even though she was going into surgery there was no way in hell that she was going to let Doctor Ken see her with no makeup on. She wanted to be sure that he got a hard on while operating on her.

She was putting on the finishing touches of her makeup when Cecily knocked on her bedroom door.

“May I come in Miss Clarisse?” she asked.

What could the fucking brat possibly want? Clarisse thought. Doesn’t she know that I’m having surgery today and can’t tend to her trivial needs?

“Go away Cecily!” Clarisse snapped. “As you can see I’m very stressed out right now over the fact that I have cancer, and can’t deal with your frivolous childish twaddle!”

“I just wanted to ask if you wanted anything to eat before you leave?” said Cecily.

“Don’t you know anything?” Clarisse barked. “You can’t eat right before a surgery. It’s Doctor’s orders.”

“I’m sorry,” Cecily answered. “Here,” she held a brown stuffed dog out towards Clarisse. “This is Whiskey,” she said. “Daddy bought him for me when I was in the hospital because of a really bad fainting spell. I had to stay the night and I was scared because I had never spent the night at a hospital before. Whiskey really helped. He’s good luck.”

Clarisse stared at the stuffed dog and frowned. Cecily had had Whiskey since she was six-years-old, and he looked it. The stuffed plushie had certainly been loved during it’s time. The stuffing inside of him was a wee bit smashed down due to all of the nights when Cecily would hug him close, and he was a bit dirty from being dragged around everywhere.

“You can take him with you,” Cecily said again. She shook the dog. “Go on, take it.”

Clarisse awkwardly looked at the stuffed animal. She actually much preferred the bratty Cecily because it was so much easier for her to be annoyed with her. Why did Cecily have to be so nice? Clarisse almost felt bad for lying about the cancer, and for giving her the letter from Claudia.

“He brought me good luck when I was in the hospital,” Cecily chattered. “He’ll bring you good luck too.”

Clarisse reluctantly took Whiskey and stuffed him into her bag. “I’ll take him,” she quibbled. “But only because I want you to just shut up and get out of my bedroom.”

“I’ll be praying for you,” said Cecily. “Daddy never prays, but my Great Aunt Josephine does and she has a hell of a lot more money than my Dad. I’m going to ask the good Lord to forgive me for all of the rotten things that I’ve done, and then I’m going to ask him to help you beat cancer.”

“You’ll have to start right now,” Clarisse shot as she slung her duffel bag over her shoulder. “Listing all of the rotten things that you’ve done will take over a year alone.”

“I know that I said some horrid things to you Miss Clarisse,” Cecily went on. “I’ve been a terrible, terrible, brat. It’s just hard getting used to the idea of my Dad marrying someone who’s so close to me in age that she could be my sister. I’m sorry Clarisse. I’m so sorry that you have cancer, and I hope you have a speedy recovery.”

To Clarisse’s shock and disdain, Cecily reached out and gave Clarisse a hug. Clarisse barely hugged the girl back. If anything, she pushed her away. “Let’s get going,” she said shortly. “Doctor Ken does not want me to be late.”

However, as she followed Cecily out of the room, she couldn’t help but feel even guiltier for all of the things that she had done. Maybe after her surgery she would call the church up and ask them if that stupid lilac dress was still in the donations box.

***

The ride to the hospital was long, tedious, and downright miserable. Scott Ian tried to play his tape of Anthrax’s new demo tracks, but Clarisse claimed that it was “too early to listen to such racket” and insisted that Francesca who was driving, turn the radio off.

“Oh come on Fran!” Scott had protested from where he had been banished in the backseat. “I don’t care if Clarisse has cancer. I just want to listen to my music!”

“When you have cancer then you can listen to whatever you like,” Francesca had snapped.

So the entire three hour ride was in silence. No one felt like talking much. It was just too damn early in the morning for that kind of shit. Clarisse was deep in thought over her upcoming surgery, Scott was still brewing over not being able to listen to his music, and Cecily’s thoughts were on Jackson.

Francesca pulled up into the hospital parking lot. She turned around to face Scott and Cecily who were in the backseat. “I’m going to park the car,” she informed them. “Please help Clarisse inside and get her admitted.”

As if she were a decrepit ninety-six-year-old spinster maid instead of a nineteen-year-old supermodel with big boobs, Cecily and Scott Ian helped Clarisse inside the hospital. Clarisse had to admit that it was almost embarrassing. She hadn’t even had the surgery yet. She was perfectly capable of walking. Plus, she just had to get rid of them. She didn’t want them to find out that she had lied until after the surgery. She couldn’t have them hovering about as she filled out the paperwork and got admitted for a liposuction, instead of for a life saving cancer operation. She had thought that she was going to be dropped off alone at the hospital door. She couldn’t believe that Francesca had sent the entire entourage in with her.

“Stop it you two!” Clarisse yelped as she batted Scott and Cecily away. “You two are clucking over me like mother hens. Knock it off!”

“We’re only trying to help,” Scott retorted.

“I don’t need your help,” Clarisse snarled.

“Fine,” Scott shrugged. He had his arm draped all the way across Clarisse’s shoulder. His right hand began to delicately drift down over to her right tit, the one that was a wee bit saggy. He fondled it, making it jiggle.

“You pig!” Clarisse yelped as she whirled around and slapped him across the face.

“You bitch!” Scott yelled as he rubbed the red spot on his cheek. “What’d you do that for?”

“I’m dying and all that you can think about is your dick!” shouted Clarisse, her voice echoing throughout the hospital corridor.

“Just because you’re dying doesn’t mean that my dick quits working,” retorted Scott. “This might be the last time that we see you alive. I may never get to see your glorious tits again.”

Clarisse let out a frustrated shriek and then made her escape. She took off running down the hall.

“Miss Clarisse!” Cecily called after her. “Where are you going?”

Clarisse didn’t answer. She hastily jumped on the elevator, and hit the door shut button. The elevator door closed right in Cecily’s face. Clarisse took the elevator up to the floor where the cosmetic surgeries were performed. Now she could easily sneak into her surgery without question. She’d worry about catching up with Scott and Cecily later.
***

Scott, Francesca, and Cecily sat in a row in the waiting room in the cancer treatment wing of the hospital. No one was sure where Clarisse had so hurriedly flounced off to, but since she was having cancer surgery they assumed that she’d be there. After four hours of waiting and no update on Clarisse’s status, Francesca decided to take matters into her own hands.

“Excuse me,” said Fran as she made her way up to the receptionist. “Could you please tell me when Clarisse Van Sicklen’s surgery will be finished?”

The receptionist furrowed her brow. “There is no patient by that name,” she replied.

“There has to be,” replied Fran. “We brought her in. Check again. You’re wrong.”

“What’s up?” Cecily asked as she approached them. Fran put her arm around Cecily and pulled the girl close.

“They screwed up,” Francesca told her. “I hope that the doctors are more competent at this hospital than the receptionists are.”

“I’m sorry Miss,” the receptionist said again. “There’s no Clarisse Van Sicklen here.”

Francesca was at the end of her rope with everybody. She slammed her fist down on the reception counter. “There must be some mistake!” she cried. “I know that Clarisse Van Sicklen is here. I drove her here. She’s having a tumor removed.”

“Maybe she died?” suggested Scott who was now also standing at the reception desk, trying to see what all the fuss was about.

“Judging by the shitbrains that they have working at this hospital I wouldn’t be surprised,” Francesca quipped.

“Oh dear mercy me!” the receptionist exclaimed. “You’re right. I did make a mistake.”

“Damn right I’m always right,” muttered Francesca.

“I’m glad that you made me double check,” said the receptionist. “There is a patient named Clarisse VanSicklen at this hospital, but she’s not in the cancer unit. She’s up on the cosmetic surgery floor.”

“You’re wrong,” Francesca argued. “She has cancer. She’s having a tumor removed.”

“There ain’t nothing on her body for the cosmetic surgeon to even fix,” said Scott. “The woman is smoking hot.”

The receptionist turned her computer monitor so that Francesca could see it. “See,” she said. “Ten o’clock liposuction with a Doctor Kenneth Filmore.”

“Liposuction!” Francesca yelped. “You must have a different Clarisse VanSicklen. She told us that she was having cancer surgery.”

“Why on earth would Clarisse have a liposuction?” Cecily wondered aloud. “The woman is rail thin.”

“She’s too thin,” put in Scott. “I like my women a little squishy, especially right under the ass cheeks, when they have a nice, little, banana roll hanging down there.” He put his hand over his hardening dick. “Oh yeah,” he groaned.

Francesca was not amused by Scott Ian’s antics or Clarisse’s either for that matter. “Where is the cosmetic surgery floor?” she asked.

“It’s the ninth floor,” answered the receptionist.

Francesca took off running with Scott and Cecily right behind her. They hopped into the elevator.

“Do you think that she would really do something this low?” Scott wondered. “To tell us that she has cancer when she’s really off getting a liposuction, is pretty fucking not cool. I know that she can be a frigid bitch, but would she really do something this wrong?”

“Yes,” Fran quipped sullenly. “She sure would.

Francesca felt like a complete idiot. All morning she had done nothing but fawn all over Clarisse, and pray to the Blessed Virgin Mary to cure her cancer. She should have seen right past Clarisse’s deception. She knew her better than that. After all, she was happily sneaking around behind Cliff without any remorse. The woman was a pathological liar.

The elevator arrived at the ninth floor. Francesca marched straight to the receptionist. “I’m here to see Clarisse VanSicklen!” she barked. “I have a bone to pick with her.”

“She’s in recovery Miss,” the receptionist replied. “She just came out of surgery. Doctor Filmore will be out to see you in a moment. Please take a seat.”

“Take a seat my eye!” Francesca retorted as she turned and flopped down into a chair.

“I even gave Miss Clarisse Whiskey,” Cecily sighed. “All for nothing.”

“What?” Francesca asked. “You gave Clarisse whiskey before her operation? Cecily you bad girl! You can’t mix alcohol with the kind medication that they’re going to have Clarisse on.”

Not that kind of whiskey,” replied Cecily. “Whiskey is the name of my stuffed dog, the stuffed dog that Daddy gave me when I was scared and in the hospital,” She gave a sad, wistful, sigh. “Daddy and Miss Emily stayed with me through the entire night by my bed because I was so scared. I miss Emily so much. Daddy was really stupid to let her slip away. I can’t believe that he’s going to marry a lying, deceitful, cunt like Clarisse.”

Francesca knew that she should chastise Cecily on her choice of language, especially since they were in a somewhat crowded, public, hospital waiting room, but she didn’t. Clarisse was a cunt. There was no other word for her. If Cecily was this angry with Clarisse already, how would she feel if she knew that Clarisse was running around on her Father? Fuck. She’d probably kill the twat herself.

Scott Ian noticed silicone breast implant models sitting over on a table. He picked them up and stuffed them down into his T-shirt. He heaved his new found breasts right into Francesca and Cecily’s face.

“Hubba, hubba!” he chortled. “Look at me! Look at me everybody! I have moobs! I’ve always wondered what it would be like to titty fuck!”

“Scott Ian Rosenfeld!” Francesca scolded in complete embarrassment, for the entire waiting room was staring at them. “I can’t take you anywhere!”

Just then, Doctor Ken entered the waiting room. He approached the trio, his eyebrows rising over the sight of Scott’s tits. No wonder Clarisse went on bitch fests about having to spend so much time with them at White Rock. They were fucking insane.

“Hello,” he greeted as he held out a hand. “I’m Doctor Ken Filmore, Clarisse’s cosmetic surgeon.”

Scott Ian dropped the breast implants at once. Two squishy, sludgy, clear, puffy bags fell out from under his T-shirt onto the floor. “Oh shit,” he muttered, turning red.

Francesca whirled around to face the famous Doctor Ken, the man who would break Cliff’s heart. She was quite disappointed. She had expected Doctor Ken to be some dashing, dreamy, and debonair, hunk. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, but he wasn’t a dreamboat either. He was tall, and looked to be around forty. He had brown hair that was just starting to get thin on top, showing his age.

“Where is she?” Francesca barked at him.

Doctor Ken frowned. “Aren’t you going to ask how she’s doing first?” he asked.

“As long as she doesn’t have cancer, I really don’t give a rat’s ass,” retorted Francesca.

“Cancer?” Doctor Ken repeated. “Clarisse doesn’t have cancer.”

“She told us that she was having cancer surgery,” Cecily reported. “We just found out from the receptionist that Miss Clarisse was having liposuction.”

Doctor Ken was quiet. He looked down at his clipboard. Clarisse had told him that she didn’t want to tell anybody about the liposuction, and was thinking about making up some story instead. He had advised her to just tell the truth, especially with those who were going to be taking care of you. Obviously, she hadn’t taken his advice.

“I’m sorry about that,” he replied finally. “Some people are very self conscious about getting cosmetic surgery.”

Francesca noticed that he was now staring right at Cecily, taking in every detail of the little girl. Lord only knew what kind of bullshit Clarisse had told him about her.

“That’s a pitiful excuse!” Francesca snapped at the Doctor. “She deceived us! That’s what she did! She had us worried sick about her.”

“Clarisse is lucky to have such kind and caring friends,” said Doctor Ken, still looking at Cecily. She didn’t seem like she was that bad of a girl. Clarisse had made her out to be the kid from hell. He couldn’t help but have a soft spot for her. He had a daughter around her age.

“Well she ain’t got caring friends anymore!” Scott Ian put in. “I’m done with her. I don’t care how nice her tits are. She fucked with our minds! I don’t like having my mind fucked with.”

“Come on Scott! Cecily!” said Francesca, as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. All we’ve done today is waste gas and time.”

“Wait!” Doctor Ken cried as he took Francesca’s arm. “You aren’t leaving are you?”

“I sure as hell am!” retorted Fran.

“But you can’t!” Doctor Ken squealed. “Someone has to drive Clarisse home.”

“You’re her big buddy,” shot Francesca. “Why don’t you do it?”

Doctor Ken turned scarlet red. Had Clarisse told this Francesca woman about their relationship? He hoped not. He couldn’t risk anyone finding out.

“I’m not permitted to socialize that way with my patients,” he replied.

Francesca snorted. “Yeah I bet,” she snapped. “She can take a taxi for all I care.”

“You don’t understand,” said Doctor Ken. “She’s just coming out from her anesthetic.
She may feel queasy and sick from it, not to mention she’s loaded up on painkillers. She can’t go out and get herself a taxi. She needs to be handled with care.”

“She needs a whap on the ass that’s what she needs,” Francesca muttered.

“You all are plenty welcome to come back with me and see her,” said Doctor Ken.

“She’s the last person that I want to see,” said Fran.

“Just think,” Cecily piped up. “We’ll be seeing her all groggy and doped up on medication. I bet that she’s swollen and puffy too.”

“Well in that case I guess it would be worth it,” Francesca replied. “But I will never forgive her for pulling this shit with us. Never!”

Francesca followed Doctor Ken back into the recovery room. Clarisse VanSicklen was a piece of work. There was no way in God’s creation that she could let Cliff marry a monster like her. As soon as James returned from his Metallica obligations she was going to tell him everything about Clarisse, so that he could break the news to Cliff. She knew that it would hurt him, but at least he would hear it from a close friend, and she’d be sparing him from a lifetime of heartache…










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Lucifer's Angel
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Go Francesca! :tu: Clarisse is a piece of shit, pretending to have cancer to get sympathy :angry Cliff deserves better than that :( Dr. Ken doesn't actually seem that bad, he seems like a decent sort. He deserves better than Clarisse :)
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Battery
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"She wanted to be sure that he got a hard on while operating on her." ahahahahaha, Clarisse is soo stupid :tardlol but that gave me good laugh :P
Cecily was so sweet towards her with giving her Whiskey, of course bitch Clarisse couldn't appreciate that <_<
Scott was hilarious in this, really :lol: And I agree with Vanessa, Doctor Ken indeed doesn't seem as a bad kind of person... Except of course cheating on his wife with 19 year old model... :P

“I’m not permitted to socialize that way with my patients,” he replied." uhm, yeah, right :lol:

And it's so great they discovered truth about Clarisse's surgery :nanner: :lol:
Great chapter!!! :heart: :horns2
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Simone
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Ohh...'Look,I have moobs!' :tardlol I can't believe you said that! :lol: It was purely hilarious!!! There was a pretty weird discussion on the King Diamond forum about moobs :lol: Aren't you from the coven? :)

Scott Ian is soo fuckin' crazy :lol: I can't believe that Clarisse had done such a thing!(actually I thought she would,but I'm just doing some drama here :lol: )
I've listened to Abigail! It's my Favorite #1 Album :horns: the next one is THEM :D

Ohhohh!!! Idea: Get King to play at Emily's reception :lol: or come at White Rock and scare the shit out of Clarisse :lol: Or perform a satanic ritual and sacrificing her...ohh I'd love to read that :tardlol
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Verity
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Simone- Yeah, Abigail is good stuff. I can't believe they would talk about moobs at a King Diamond forum. I never thought that King had moobs. And no, I don't post at the coven. Just here.

Maggie- I'm thrilled that you found Scott's antics hilarious. I had a lot of fun writing that part. :)

Vanessa- And yes, Clarisse is such a piece of shit. Hopefully she'll go down soon. We can only hope.


I'll admit that this is kind of a sucky chapter. I promise that Chapter 48 is much better and much more kick ass. I guess you can skip it if you want because it's sort of boring. Boring enough that I didn't even reread and edit it. :lol:




Chapter Forty-Seven


Clarisse groaned from her bed in the recovery room. She felt like shit. She was so groggy that she could barely open her eyes. Fortunately, she was hopped up on pain meds, so she wasn’t in any pain. For the next month she would have to wear a tight, tight, girdle-like garment to help her skin adjust to not having that small lair of fat around her stomach anymore. With it being summer, already the garment felt hot, itchy, and uncomfortable.

The door to the recovery room opened, and Clarisse let out a whimper. She could tell by Doctor Ken’s face that he wasn’t too happy with her. He must know about her little fib. It was very apparent that Francesca, Scott, and Cecily knew. They were all positively seething with anger and rage.

“Oh Francesca,” Clarisse moaned sweetly. “I’m so happy that you’re here.”

“Shut up Clarisse!” Francesca snapped at once. “I no longer want to listen to anything that you have to say. Now hurry up, get dressed, and let’s get out of here. I’ve wasted enough of my time with you.”

“Oh but Francesca,” Clarisse groaned. “I’ve just had invasive surgery. I won’t be able to move very quickly.”

“She’s right,” put in Doctor Ken. “The medication may make her nauseous, and her incisions will be sore. I need to go over her post op care with you.”

“Lord Woman!” Scott Ian declared. “You haven’t got an ounce of fat on you. What the hell did you get sucked off?”

“That’s what I tried to tell her,” Doctor Ken sighed. “Perhaps it was Cliff putting pressure on her to be thin?”

“That’s fucking bullshit!” Cecily chirped right up. “My Daddy always told Miss Clarisse that she was beautiful. He couldn’t walk by her without groping her ass!”

Neither can I, thought Doctor Ken.

“The kid is right,” said Scott Ian. “I once watched Burton bang a plus sized chick in the parking lot of a Denny’s. She had to have been at least three hundred pounds, and he was having one hell of a good time with her. Burton likes them in all shapes and sizes.”

That was way more information than Doctor Ken needed to know regarding Cliff Burton. He changed the subject back to Clarisse. “She has three small incisions that will ooze out a blood stained pus.”

“That’s fucking gross!” Scott Ian yelped.

“Yes it is,” Doctor Ken agreed. “But it’s a reality of liposculpture. Now you’ll have to take gauze and tape it over these incisions to catch it all, and they’ll have to be changed every couple of hours. Clarisse isn’t going to be able to bend over to do it herself, so you’ll have to do it for her.”

“Over my dead body will I spend my time taping up pus laden gauze pads,” yelped Francesca.

Things were only to get worse. The ride home was a somber one. The tension between Clarisse and Fran was so thick that you wouldn’t even be able to cut it with a chainsaw. On the way, Francesca had pulled into a drive thru. She asked Scott and Cecily if they wanted anything. Everyone was starving.

“Hey what about me?” Clarisse had asked from the backseat. “I want a cheeseburger too. And some fries, and a milkshake”

“You better watch it or else you’ll need the liposuction again,” shot Scott.

Francesca whirled around to face her. “You can get your own damn food!” she snapped. “You lie to me and tell me that you have cancer, when you’re really getting some petty liposuction, and then you have the nerve to fucking ask me to buy you something to eat! Fuck you!”

As soon as they got home, Clarisse went up to her bedroom to order herself a pizza. Having to undergo surgery was hard work. She deserved a good dinner. Francesca was being irrational.

Shortly after they had gotten home, the phone rang. Cecily answered it.

“Hello?” she said.

“Cecily? This is James. I need to talk with you,” said the voice at the other end.

“Mr. James,” said Cecily. “Did you replace Clarisse’s ring yet?”

James let out a sigh, and took a long gulp of beer for comfort. “Um, that’s what I need to talk to you about,” he mumbled. “You see, Lars and I are working on it.”

“What’d you mean that you and Lars are working on it?” demanded Cecily. “Daddy is going to be back in two days! We just have to have it by then. You promised.”

“Well you see Cecily,” James replied. “It’s not going to be as easy as we thought. Lars and I went to the same jeweler that Burton purchased the ring from this morning, and it turns out that ring was a one of a kind, custom designed by the jeweler. There’s not one like it in the entire world. Ain’t that cool?”

“No!” shouted Cecily. “That’s not cool. I can’t believe that my Dad would buy such a ring for a pig like Clarisse!”

“Pig like Clarisse?” James snorted. “What’d she do this time?”

“You don’t even want to know,” replied Cecily. “I just don’t know what we’re going to do Mr. James. We’re going to have to tell Daddy.”

“No,” said James. “Lars said that his old man knows a guy in Denmark who makes some of the finest rings in all of Europe. He can recreate Clarisse’s ring for us. It should be easy. It was just a plain ring with three gaudy diamonds in it. The dude is big buddies with Torben Ulrich, and may even cut the price down a bit for us.”

“Can he make the ring and ship it from Denmark in just two days?” Cecily asked.

“Of course not!” retorted James. “You’re going to have to stall your Dad from proposing to her. I mean he dated that Emily chick for six years without marrying her. I don’t see why he needs to rush into things with this new chick.”

“That’s going to be easier said than done,” answered Cecily.

“Don’t you worry about it little lady,” said James. “We’re talking about Cliff here. He’ll never be in a rush to marry anyone. He probably won’t even get around to proposing to her until next Easter. We have nothing to worry about.”

“Easy for you to say,” Cecily shot. “You’re not the one who has to stall him if he does want to propose, and your not the one that he’s going to automatically blame if he finds the ring missing.”

“Cess,” James said in a serious tone. “Your Dad will do no such thing. He fucking worships you. You could walk out and take a giant shit right on his bass and he wouldn’t give a fuck.”

“You promise?” asked Cecily.

“Absometallicafuckinglutely,” promised James. “But don’t ask me to say that three times in a row.”

“Thank you James,” replied Cecily feeling better about things. “My Dad and I have been fighting a lot lately about all kinds of shit. I don’t want to be fighting with him right before I go to England.”

“You don’t like it when you fight with your Dad,” said James.

“Of course I don’t,” answered Cecily.

“I fought a lot with my Dad too,” James went on. “But unlike Cliff, my Dad didn’t really give a shit about my feelings, at least not for a long time he didn’t. You have a good father Cecily. Don’t worry. Torben Ulrich is a motherfuckering badass. He actually got us our first meeting with Bob Rock. If Torben Ulrich can get us hooked up with a world renowned record producer of many multi platinum albums, he can sure as hell get us an engagement ring. Now be a dear and put my hot Argentinean puss on the phone.”

***
Meanwhile, back in England, Emily was up to her eyelashes in work. Because of her upcoming honeymoon, she had to have most of her fashion coursework completed before she left. She also wanted to have the majority of it done before Cecily came so that she would have more free time to spend with her. Not to mention Mrs. Fitzgerald was being more annoying than ever changing around Emily’s wedding plans. She even went ahead and changed the soup that Emily had picked out for the wedding dinner. Emily thought that she couldn’t go wrong with shrimp bisque, but apparently Mrs. Fitzgerald was allergic to shellfish. She changed it to clam chowder, claiming that a white soup would look much more elegant for a wedding dinner anyway. Emily hated clam chowder, and thought that it always smelled like dirty socks. But then again, Mrs. Fitzgerald didn’t seem to care about her opinion.

At ten-thirty at night Emily finally stumbled in through the door. Two big picture boards were stuffed under her arm. She also had her briefcase, and a big stack of books. Evan was sitting up waiting for her in the kitchen.

“Emily dearest,” he said. “You are working much too hard. It’s ten o’clock at night and you haven’t been home all day, not even for dinner.”

“I’m sorry Evan,” replied Emily as she dropped her books, briefcase, and picture boards down onto the table and took off her coat. “I just have these picture boards, and three reviews that I have to write all by tomorrow. I’ll never get it finished.” She sunk down into a chair and put her head down on the table.

Evan began to rub her shoulders. “I kept your dinner in the oven so that it would stay warm,” he said. “I’ll go get it for you.”

Evan scurried about the kitchen as he fixed Emily a plate of some chicken, vegetables, and potatoes, and poured her a glass of wine. “Even a busy girl needs to eat,” he said as he set it in front of her.

“Thank you Sweetheart,” replied Emily as she began to shovel down food. She hadn’t eaten all day, and was ravenously hungry.

“Mother wanted me to tell you that she added seventy more people to the guest list,” Evan reported as he sat down across from Emily.

“Oh dear God Evan!” Emily moaned. “How could that woman possibly know even more people? She’s invited all of England. The next thing we know she’ll be inviting all of Ireland too.” She began to chug down her wine, the liquid washing away her anxieties, yet making her feel even more tired at the same time.

“I’m really sorry,” Evan apologized. “I know that she’s been fussy, and overbearing.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Emily quipped.

“I keep telling her to at least let you have the soup that you want,” said Evan. “I hate clam chowder too. It’s downright putrid.”

“Never mind the soup,” sighed Emily. “I only really care about a few things. I am adamant that I choose my own wedding dress which I got to do since I designed it myself and had it custom made. I want Cecily to do the ceremony flowers, and I also don’t want a head table at the reception. I’d rather that we sit with our families amongst everyone.”

“I agree,” said Evan. “I don’t like the idea of a head table either.”

“We’d be on display while we ate,” said Emily. “On display as if we were in the window at a department store.”

“If my lovely wife-to-be wants her own wedding dress and her little surrogate daughter designing her flowers she shall have it,” said Evan. “And if she doesn’t want a head table, she doesn’t have to have one.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss.

“Thank you Evan,” replied Emily. She turned to her books. “I really should be getting back to work,” she sighed.

“I must be getting off to bed,” said Evan. “I have an early day tomorrow, but I think that you should have some company while you work.”

“You can go to bed Evan,” answered Emily. “I understand that you have to get up early.”

“I wasn’t talking about myself,” Evan replied, a twinkle in his eye. “Wait right here,” he commanded as he went into the other room.

What on earth is he doing? Emily thought as she opened up one of her books.

Evan returned to the kitchen. He was holding a medium sized brown box that had a red bow on it. The box also had a few holes on the side.

“Evan what the?” Emily asked as he handed it to her. “What is this?”

“Open it and see,” replied Evan. He was grinning from ear to ear.

Emily didn’t need to open the box to find out what was inside. A few telltale yips gave it away. “Evan you didn’t!” Emily exclaimed as she untied the bow and threw off the lid. “Evan Fitzgerald you bought me a puppy!” she cried.

A teeny tiny teacup Yorkie was inside of the box. Her hair was as long and silky as Kirk’s was, and it resembled the color of milky coffee. A small pink bow was clipped in her silky tresses, and she had big round dark eyes that shone like pennies.

“Do you like her?” Evan asked.

“Like her?” said Emily. “I love her! She’s adorable.” She took the pup out of the box and hugged it close as it squeaked.

“I thought that she’d be a good little friend for you,” said Evan. “She’s small so you can take her everywhere with you.”

The Yorkie immediately started to sniff at Emily’s dinner plate. Emily gave the dog a bite of chicken. “She’s a hungry little thing,” she commented.

“What are you going to name her?” Evan asked.

Emily took a good look at the little puppy, sizing her up and down. “Queen Victoria,” she replied finally. “I shall name her after the good Queen. She was fond of lap dogs herself.”

“I think it suits her,” remarked Evan as he watched Queen Victoria turn her attention again to Emily’s plate. He gave her another kiss. “Good night Dearest,” he said. “I hope that you enjoy having a little companion. I know that you’ve been missing Cecily a lot so I thought that this would help.”

“Thank you Evan,” replied Emily as she gave Queen Victoria another hug. “I really adore the puppy, really I do, but I can’t buy clothes for the puppy, like I can for Cecily.”

“Actually you can,” said Evan.

“Absolutely not,” retorted Emily. “Queen Victoria will not be a pussy dog.” She immediately blushed at her language. “I mean a prissy dog,” she corrected.
Evan wasn’t Cliff. He didn’t wallow around in profanity all day long. “I’m sorry Sweetheart,” she said. “I didn’t mean to cuss.”

“I understand,” Evan sighed. “You spent years living with a bass guitarist. It’s to be expected. I guess Cliff’s dirty mouth rubbed off on you.”

“Aye,” Emily agreed. “And I rubbed off a bit on Cliff. At least he knows the proper way to make a bed and he knows how to fold the toilet paper up into a little triangle like they do in the fine hotels.”

Evan gave her one last hug and kiss before retiring for the night. Emily was left alone in the kitchen with Queen Victoria. Her work would have her up for most of the night. She cuddled the little pup in her arms. Having a dog again made her think about Geezer. She missed smelly, old, Geezer. He was smelly, he was slobbery, and he was old, but he was the sweetest dog ever. Geezer was another thing that she had shared with Cliff that he had gotten to keep. She wondered if Cliff remembered to give him his monthly heartworms preventative, and flea bath. She had spent many, many, hours with Cliff giving that dog countless baths, and trying out various lotions, trying to get him not to smell anymore. Deep, deep, down she felt a few slight tinges of longing for Cliff. Evan was a sweetheart, really he was, and Emily was pretty certain that she loved him, but life with Evan just wasn’t the same as life with Cliff.

No dog, not even Queen Victoria could take the place of Geezer, but she was still happy to have a dog again. A teacup Yorkie would always be small and most easy to travel with. She set the dog up on the kitchen table, not caring that it wasn’t very sanitary.

“Well Victoria,” she said as she cleared her throat. Queen Victoria cocked her head as if she were listening to what her new owner had to say.

“Let’s not dwell on the past,” said Emily. “You wouldn’t have liked Cliff anyway. He’d have wanted to name you something like Ozzy, or Butler, or Danzig. I couldn’t imagine calling a teacup Yorkie a name like Danzig. You make a much better Queen Victoria…”
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Damn, go Francesca! Us Spanish broads got ourselves a temper :wink Don't blame her for being pissed at Clarisse, that is so low, even for her :angry And that dog sounds cute, I like little dogs, I don't like big dogs (sorry Geezer :wink )
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Here's some more. I like this chapter. :) Much better than the last one.

Vanessa- I like little dogs too. Actually I like all dogs even big ones, but little dogs are much easier to handle and travel with. :)



Chapter Forty-Eight


That evening Francesca, Cecily, and Scott Ian were all hanging out in the kitchen. Clarisse was upstairs in the Apache Room. Her moans and groans of pain and discomfort could be heard all the way down the stairs.

The good thing about having Clarisse out of commission was that she wasn’t around to lock away all of the good food, since she had this fucked up notion that James and Scott Ian both needed to be put on diets. She had left the keys to the cupboard sitting out on the table, so Francesca went ahead and unlocked it. She set out several plates of cookies, a box of peanut brittle, some fudge, and a tres leche cake out onto the table. Earlier that evening they had high jacked Clarisse’s pizza. It had been very easy. Clarisse was too groggy and sore to even make it down the stairs to come and get it when the pizza delivery dude arrived. That meant that it found a home in Scott Ian’s belly instead.

“Should one of us take some food up to Clarisse?” Scott asked. “She’s got to be hungry.”

“When she’s hungry enough she’ll get off of her ass and come down here to get her own food,” replied Francesca.

“But she’s just had surgery,” argued Scott.

“Then she can starve for all I care,” Francesca shot.

At that moment, Clarisse appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Hey Clarisse!” Scott greeted. “You look like hammered shit.”

And Scott was indeed right. She was standing all hunched over, clearly in discomfort. Her nicely applied makeup had by now worn off, her hair was a mess. She gave Scott an icy look as she pulled up a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. She began to help herself to a bit of cake.

Francesca, Cecily, and Scott were all staring at her.

“What!” Clarisse snapped. “You have a staring problem?”

“No,” answered Cecily. “We just aren’t used to seeing you eat shit like cake. You usually never eat anything.”

“Shut up!” Clarisse barked at her. “I’ll eat whatever I please. Now go fix me a cup of coffee.”

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Francesca asked.

Clarisse looked up from her cake. “No,” she replied.

“I think that you owe us an apology. You should be feeling sorry right now,” said Fran.

“What have I got to be sorry about?” Clarisse asked innocently.

“You should be sorry about the fact that you’re here, and we have to be stuck with you,” retorted Francesca.

“You’ve been a bitch to us the entire time that we’ve been here!” put in Scott. “Now it’s time for a little payback. This time,” he said snidely. “The shoe is on the other foot.”

“The silk designer shoe,” added Francesca.

“I should have known better,” said Cecily. “You lie to my Dad all the time about being in love with him. It’s no wonder that you lied to us.”

“Enough you guys!” Clarisse yelled. “This is no way to treat someone who has just undergone surgery.”

“Pishposh!” snorted Fran. “Your surgery was so minor that it’s a joke. You hardly had any fat to remove. Scott has more fat on his finger than you had on your stomach.”

“I do not!” Scott retorted.

“You’re a deceitful, conniving, bitch!” Francesca went on. “And one of these days Cliff is going to realize just what a piece of shit you really are and he’ll be rid of you!”

“Clifford loves me!” Clarisse snapped. “Having me on his arm is an asset to him. He knows very well that his chances of finding another woman as beautiful and as young as I am are very rare.” She turned to Cecily. “Hurry up with my coffee girl!” she croaked.

“I’m making another pot Miss Clarisse,” Cecily replied. “I can’t make the coffee maker work any faster.”

Clarisse gave Cecily an annoyed look and then went back to Francesca. “Now you on the other hand,” she said. “Have more to worry about. James is now a world renowned rock star. He has thousands of women on his tail. I bet he’s in bed with another girl right now, and I bet that she’s younger and prettier than you are. It wouldn’t take much.”

“Okay that’s it!” Francesca snapped. She sprang to her feet, picked up the tres leche cake and stuffed it right into Clarisse’s face.

Clarisse let out a blood curdling shriek. Mostly because of the way she quickly moved once Fran had stuffed the cake in her face. It made her tender and sore incisions hurt.

“Take that!” Francesca shouted. “And oh by the way Clarisse, did you know that tres leche cake causes cystic acne?”

Scott was now laughing uncontrollably. “That’s a good one Fran!” he chuckled.

“I guess that wouldn’t be a problem for you though,” Francesca went on. “You could always go see your buddy Doctor Ken!”

“I hate you!” Clarisse moaned. She turned to Cecily who was busy fixing Clarisse her coffee. “Get me a towel!” she ordered.

Cecily began to rummage around the kitchen for a clean dish towel. She found one, and handed it over to Clarisse.

“You move so slow,” Clarisse hissed at her. She began to wipe the bits of smashed cake and milky white frosting off of her face.

“I think that she looks quite attractive with the cake face,” said Scott. “Much better than how she normally looks.”

“Oh you shut up!” Clarisse snarled. “I’m not going to listen to some bald headed tit with a goatee that looks like a Billy goat!”

“Baaaaaaa,” Scott Ian bleated at her.

“You’re so ugly it pains me to have to look at you,” Clarisse growled. “Why don’t you grow some hair?”

At that moment, Francesca sneaked up behind Clarisse. “Speaking of hair,” she said. “There goes yours!”

To Scott Ian and Cecily’s amazement and amusement Francesca snipped off a sizable chunk of Clarisse’s professionally dyed and straightened blonde hair. Clarisse shrieked at the top of her lungs as Scott Ian intercepted the chunk of hair from Francesca and began to throw it around the room.

“It’s the attack of the killer Clarisse!” he yelled.

This sent Francesca and Cecily into uncontrollable laughter. If there was one thing that Clarisse hated most in the entire world it was being laughed at. Nobody made a fool of Clarisse VanSicklen.

“You guys are all nothing but trash!” Clarisse yelled. She stood up from the table, but she had moved too fast and grimaced. She hunched herself over, and used the table as support to help her stand. “You’re all nothing but white trash living way beyond your means just because you’re leaching off of some rock star!” she ranted. Her hair now hung all lopsided, for the right side was now way shorter than the left side.

“I ain’t leaching off no rock star!” Scott Ian retorted. “I am a rock star.”

“I’m going to tell Clifford all about this and he’ll never let you two come here again!” shouted Clarisse.

“That’s going to be kind of hard to do based on the fact that James owns part of this house, and I’m his girlfriend,” Francesca taunted. “Who knows? Now that you no longer have your pretty hair, maybe Clifford will get rid of you.”

“You bitch!” Clarisse shouted. She lunged forward and yanked Francesca over to her by her hair. “I’m going to scalp you alive!” she yelled.

Francesca clenched her hand into a fist and shoved it deep down into Clarisse’s stomach area, right where she had had the surgery. Clarisse was speechless with pain as she doubled over, her skin turning an ashen shade.

“I hate you all!” Clarisse shouted. “You all deserve to die!”

She started to slowly hobble out of the room. “Bring me my coffee in bed Cecily, and my bottle of Vicodin! And don’t dawdle!” she ordered at the girl as she slowly and uncomfortably crept her way up the stairs.

A few minutes later Cecily stood outside the door of Clarisse’s room. She had a fresh cup of coffee, a glass of water, and a bottle of Vicadin on a tray, and Geezer was right behind her. Francesca was trying to find numerous ways to annoy the piss out of Clarisse and letting Geezer inside the house was one of them. Cecily could hear crying come from the other side of the door. Clarisse was crying! It actually gave Cecily a warm, feel-goody, feeling inside. She knocked on the door.

“Miss Clarisse,” she said. “May I come in?”

“No!” Clarisse shot through tears. “Go away!”

“But I have your coffee,” returned Cecily.

“I don’t want anymore!” Clarisse bellowed. “Take it away.”

“But I have your Vicodin,” Cecily replied.

Clarisse grew silent for a moment. “Bring it in!” she ordered.

Cecily opened the door.

Clarisse looked rather rumpled and quite pathetic. Her face was red and puffy from crying. She was also getting into the puffy stage of her surgery, since her stomach area was all swollen and bruised. Her hair was a complete mess. The right side was long, but the left side was hacked off to just above her shoulder, and it was hacked off all uneven.
She didn’t look nearly like the sexy bombshell that she usually was.

Cecily came towards her. Clarisse snapped the bottle of Vicodin right out of her hands and greedily popped a handful of them into her mouth. She slugged the entire glass of water, and handed it back to Cecily. She then went back to crying into her pillow.

“Can I get you anything else?” Cecily asked. “Please stop crying Miss Clarisse.”

“Get out!” Clarisse commanded to her coldly. “Just get out of my room! And get that revolting dog out of here too! You guys should have him put to sleep because he looks like shit.”

“It’s just hair,” Cecily said, trying to actually comfort her. “It’ll grow back you know.”

“I said get out of here!” Clarisse yelled again through tears. “And to me it’s not just hair. It’s my livelihood. I’m a model! How would you feel if I broke your arm and you couldn’t paint anymore of your ugly pictures?”

Cecily was silent. She really didn’t care. Clarisse was a heartless bitch and she deserved every bit of what Francesca had just done to her.

“Everything’s ruined!” Clarisse wailed. “When he sees my hair, Clifford will dump me for sure.” She went back to crying into her pillow.

“Do you really think that my Dad is that superficial?” Cecily asked. “It must really suck ass to be you Miss Clarisse. Especially if you really truly think that my Dad loves you only because of your hair.”

“My beauty is the best thing about me,” Clarisse sneered through sobs. “But then again, you wouldn’t know anything about beauty.”

Cecily had had enough of Clarisse’s insults. For two cents she’d tell the obnoxious bucket of shit to go to hell however, Jackson’s fate rested on her being cordial to Clarisse.

“You’re right Miss Clarisse,” replied Cecily. “I know nothing about beauty, but I do know that it can be found inside a person.”

“Did your Father tell you that hippie bullshit Cecily?” Clarisse asked. “I’m sure that he did. I mean what else can he say to a rather plain looking little girl?”

Cecily shrugged. “Jackson seems to like me enough,” she retorted. “Perhaps you should work on your inner beauty too. That way, maybe when he comes home my Dad will still like you.”

“And just what do you presume that I do?” Clarisse snapped. “Open up a halfway house for your Father’s drug addicted, pot smoking, little friends?”

“No,” answered Cecily. “You can start by letting Geezer stay inside…”






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:angry Bitch, Cliff ought to come to his senses, Clarisse is awful :angry Glad that Francesca stuffed the cake in her face, us Spanish chicks rock :horns2 And Scott Ian is a rockstar, and he's not that ugly, Clarisse has an ugly soul, I bet it looks like a catfish :angry
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Shayi- Now we are going to find out what Gastropod does that makes Cliff blush. :blush: And I think I get the gross-out award.

(author diasappears off forum before people pelt her with tomatoes).


Chapter Forty-Nine


A bedraggled and absolutely exhausted Cliff Burton slowly made his way up the walk of White Rock with suitcase and bass in tow. He felt like complete shit. He hadn’t slept in three days, who the hell could with Gastropod and their foolish schoolboy antics?

It had been one hell of a weekend of loud music, booze, hard drugs, and fast sex. Gastropod had been on their worst behavior ever. The second night of the tour Spliff the guitarist, thought that it would be great fun to go over to the groupie that the lead vocalist was in the process of fucking, and pull out the tampon that she had in by yanking on the string that was hanging out of her coot. Not only did he do that, but he flung the bloody thing into the air where it sailed over to where Cliff was quietly sitting jotting down the band’s earnings for the night in the ledger book, and landed right in his hair.

Shortly after this happened a riot broke out on the bus amongst the band members, who then started to fight over the tampon as if it were a five hundred dollar bill. It had been up to Cliff to keep four drunk, rowdy, and over sexed, band members from killing each other, and he had to help the confused, wasted-out-of-her-mind, underage, and upset groupie find her clothes and get on a bus that would take her safely back home to her horrified parents.

Cliff was thankful and elated to be back at the calm serenity of White Rock. Even if Clarisse and Cecily were usually at odds with each other at least they weren’t fighting over dirty tampons.

Cecily was the first one to notice Cliff’s return. She had been sitting out on the porch reading one of her King Arthur books. At the sight of Cliff she immediately started running towards him. Geezer galumphed on after her. “Daddy!” she cried. “You’re home! You’re finally home!”

Cliff dropped his suitcase and bass and took Cecily into his arms, picking her up off of the ground, and swinging her around and around. “I missed my little girl!” he exclaimed as he hugged her close.

“I missed you too Daddy,” said Cecily.

Geezer let out a demanding bark.

“It looks like Geezer boy missed me too,” said Cliff as he set Cecily down and gave Geezer a pat.

Yes, at home with Cecily and Geezer was definitely much nicer than on a bus with Gastropod.

“I painted you a picture Daddy,” Cecily went on. “Actually, it’s a sketch not a painting. I hope that you’ll still like it.”

“Cecily, I’m sure that I’ll love it,” said Cliff. “As a matter of fact the Native Americans made sketches using coal.” He put his arm around her as the two made their way towards the house. “At least I know that you’re still alive,” he commented.

“What do you mean by that?” Cecily asked.

“Well, I figured that either you or Clarisse would wind up killing one another,” replied Cliff.

“Actually it’s more like Clarisse and Francesca,” said Cecily.

“Oh?” Cliff asked, raising his eyebrows. “I thought that those two were getting chummy.”

“Not anymore,” answered Cecily.

Just then Francesca, Clarisse, and Scott Ian made their way to the front porch.

Cliff’s mouth dropped open when he saw Clarisse. Since Fran had lopped off the entire left side of her hair the only thing that she could do was get the right side cut as well, and have it all evened up. She had driven all the way to San Francisco to have a renowned stylist cut it into a very stylish short haircut.

“Doll Face!” he gasped. “Your hair!”

Clarisse’s stomach did a somersault of queasiness. “Do you hate it Clifford?” she asked nervously. She was nervous for both Cliff and Doctor Ken to see her new hairdo.

“Of course I don’t hate it,” said Cliff as he pulled Clarisse close and began kissing her, much to Cecily and Francesca’s disdain. “I never realized what a beautiful face you have,” he said. “Your short hair really shows it off. You look sensational.”

“Thank you Clifford,” Clarisse replied, relieved.

“What possessed you to cut it?” Cliff asked.

Clarisse gave Francesca a frosty glance. She didn’t want anyone to know that she had been bullied by James’s floozy-of-the-moment. “I was just feeling like a change I guess,” she answered innocently. “So I had it cut by one of San Francisco’s trendiest hairdressers.”

“Well I ain’t ever cutting my hair,” Cliff declared. “As Kirk always said I don’t have the bone structure for it.”

He actually really liked Clarisse’s new hair. The shorter hair style made her look a little older, so he didn’t feel so much like he was fucking his daughter. He had been thinking about waiting until later in the week so that he could plan up some romantic, special, brouhaha that would rival Evan Fitzdouchebag’s hot air balloon proposal, but Clarisse was looking so hot with her new short, stylish bob, that maybe he’d just go ahead and propose to her later in the evening once they were alone.

Clarisse had decided to take Cecily’s advice about working on her “inner” beauty, just not quite in the same way that Cecily had been thinking of. Clarisse VanSicklen always got what she wanted, but not by being nice.

That night Clarisse was sitting at her bedroom vanity touching up her makeup before bed. How could she possibly go to bed without freshly applied eye shadow? It would be sacrilege. She was dressed in a long, loose fitting, black silk nightgown trying her very best to hide her liposuction, though she knew that it was a mute point. Cliff had come home from the mini tour hornier than a dog in heat during a full moon.

Cliff entered the room. He sat down on the edge of his bed and lit his bedtime joint. He turned on The Rite Spring because in Cliff’s opinion it was perfect music for fucking, especially when you were fucking whiled stoned. He had no idea about her liposuction, or her false cancer drama. James had come home that evening as well and Francesca had wanted one glorious night with him, before she started to relay Clarisse’s dark secrets on everybody. They’re moans of passionate lovemaking could be heard throughout the entire house.

“You know what Clifford,” said Clarisse as she applied lipstick.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the entire world?” Cliff guessed as he exhaled.

“Other than that,” Clarisse replied.

Cliff shook his head, so Clarisse went on. She got up from her vanity, strolled over to her closet, and came out holding Cecily’s lilac dress. “Look what I found,” she announced triumphantly.

Cliff nearly dropped his joint. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “God damn! That’s Cecily’s pretty, dress that I bought her. You found it?”

Clarisse nodded as she threw the dress over the back of the chair. “I found it crumpled up in a ball at the very bottom of Cecily’s closet. It was wrinkled so badly that it could barely be salvaged. I had to take it to a dry cleaner’s just so that they could steam the wrinkles out.”

“She’s usually not so careless with her clothes,” said Cliff. “I thought that she really wanted this dress.”

“She has too much Cliff,” said Clarisse. “She doesn’t appreciate all that you do for her. I would never, ever, ever, throw a dress that my Father bought for me in a heap onto the floor.”

Cliff looked sadly over at the dress. “Scott and Francesca told me that Cecily had been so good these past three days. I was going to let Jackson come back here, but then she goes out and does something like this.”

“She just doesn’t respect you Cliff,” said Clarisse. Take that Cecily Burton! she thought. I worked on my inner beauty by getting you back your stupid dress, however I did manage to get myself something out of it in return.

“Thank you for finding it and for getting the wrinkles out,” said Cliff. He set down his joint and went over to her. “That was really nice of you to do that for Cecily. I’m pretty sure that she still likes the dress, she’s just like you said got too careless. Maybe I have been spoiling her a little.”

“A little?” Clarisse snorted.

“Now it’s time for me to spoil you instead,” replied Cliff. He began to immediately grope Clarisse’s breasts, and then he started to slip her nightgown off. Clarisse immediately pulled back from him.

“Not tonight Cliff,” she said.

“What the fuck do you mean not tonight?” Cliff retorted. “Clarisse, I’ve been dreaming about being on top of you for past three fucking days. Haven’t you missed me?”

“Of course I have Clifford!” said Clarisse, trying her best to dredge up some crocodile tears. “It’s just that, that-”

“You can’t possibly be on the rag again!” Cliff interrupted. “Come on Clarisse. Let’s have some fun. I’ll even let you be on top if you want.” There was no stopping the stoned and horny bassist. He in very dramatic fashion, ripped off Clarisse’s silk nightie with one hand, revealing her immensely bruised stomach that was taped up with gauze pads.

“Holy shit Clarisse!” Cliff gasped. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Oh it was just awful Clifford!” Clarisse wailed. “I wanted to look my best for you, so that you’d always find me beautiful, so I want out and had a liposuction.”

“Liposuction?” Cliff repeated. “Is that where they shove a cold water enema up your ass in order to purify your system?”

“No Cliff,” Clarisse sighed. “It’s where they suck that fat off from underneath your skin.”

“But you never had any fat on you to begin with,” said Cliff. “What the fuck could they possibly suck off?”

“Oh I did Cliffy,” said Clarisse. “I had a layer right under my stomach and it made me so unhappy.”

“You’re being ridiculous Clarisse!” Cliff snapped. “Everyone has to have some fat on them in order to survive. Did you know that the Inuits up in Alaska have twenty pounds of-”

“I don’t care about the fucking Eskimos up in Alaska!” Clarisse shouted.

“They’re Inuits not Eskimos,” Cliff corrected. “Clarisse, you had and still have a fantastic body. You’re by far the hottest chick that I’ve ever been with, and I’ve fucked hundreds of thousands of women.”

“You really mean that Cliffy?” Clarisse pathetically asked, tears falling down her cheeks as she fucked around with the edges of her gauze pads.

“I sure do,” Cliff nodded.

“Am I hotter than the British chick?” Clarisse pressed.

Cliff swallowed. It was very hard to compare Clarisse to Emily. The two looked as different as night and day. They both had a totally different look and a totally different style. Everything was different about them right down to the way that they wore their hair, and did their makeup. Couldn’t he like them both just as much?

“I’m waiting for an answer Cliff,” Clarisse blubbered through tears.

“Yes Doll Face,” answered Cliff. “You are hotter than Emily.”

For some reason, it didn’t feel right when he had said that. Maybe it was because he was quite baked.

“By a lot or a little?’ asked Clarisse.

“Ah Jesus Clarisse I don’t know,” Cliff stammered. “What’s it matter anyway?”

“See why I had to have the liposuction Cliff,” Clarisse said. “You never made me feel pretty enough. I had to go through all of this just for you.”


Cliff had no idea how Clarisse could possibly feel that way. He had always commented her on her beauty. Shit. She could hardly walk by without him feeling up her tits and grabbing at her ass. What more did she want?

“I wish that you would have talked to me about this before you went off and did this,” Cliff answered quietly. “I would have told you that you were beautiful as you were, and didn’t need this. Emily couldn’t even hold a candle to you. You’re gorgeous Clarisse. I’m a very, very, very, lucky guy.”

“I just wanted to make sure that you’re happy with me,” Clarisse whined. She looked up at Cliff with tears hanging in her big blue eyes.

“Obviously I haven’t made you feel loved enough,” said Cliff as he went over and gently hugged her, careful not to hurt her incisions. “I have something for you,” he went on.

Clarisse dried her tears. “Oh?” she asked. “A present?” Her face lit up. “Did you get it for me while you were on tour?”

“No,” answered Cliff. “I got it before that actually. Just wait a second. I’ll get it.”

Cliff hopped off the bed and took one quick puff off his joint for courage. Then he made his way over to his bureau and slowly opened the second to the top drawer. He began to rummage through the stack of vintage LP’s. There, nestled safely under a copy of Blizzard of Oz was the black velvet ring box. As Cliff reached down to grab the box he didn’t know why he was so nervous. He had proposed to Emily like five times. He was a pro at this. He slowly opened the box. His heart near stopped. The box was empty.

“Clifford!” Clarisse bellowed from where she was sitting on the bed. “What’s taking so long? I want my present.”

“What the fuck?” Cliff muttered under his breath. It must have fallen out in the drawer.

Cliff began to tear through the drawer like a dog rummaging through a pizza box. He had to find that ring. That ring had cost him as much as a fine luxury car would have. It was by far the most expensive piece of jewelry that he had ever bought for anyone in his entire life.

“Clifford! What are you doing?” Clarisse asked.

Cliff began to lift stacks of records out of the drawer, desperately checking inside each album sleeve in hope that it had slipped inside one of them. Cliff lifted the very last record out of the drawer and checked inside it. There was no ring to be found. He opened the ring box again, hoping that it had just magically reappeared by osmosis, but it hadn’t.

“Where’s my present?” Clarisse whined. “You promised Cliff.”

“Doll Face,” Cliff answered. “I can’t seem to remember where I put it.”

“You lost it!” Clarisse exclaimed.

“No Clarisse I did not lose it,” said Cliff. He stared at the drawer, a sickened and bewildered expression on his face. “It just has to be here somewhere. I’m tired, and I’m just not remembering where I placed it. I’ll find it tomorrow, I promise.”

“Well,” Clarisse retorted. “It must not be that nice of a gift or else you wouldn’t have misplaced it.”

Cliff bit his lip. It was the nicest gift he had ever bought. He couldn’t believe that it was missing. How could it be? Here he was chastising Cecily for being so careless with her new dress, and he had just lost a ring that was worth a fortune.

“I can never bitch at Cecily now,” he said to himself as he devastatingly shut the drawer. “How could I have lost it?”

Just then, a horrifying idea popped in his mind. “No, it couldn’t be,” said Cliff. “She would never do such a thing. But she was the only one who knew that I was keeping it here.” Cliff laid his head down on top of the dresser. “Cecily!” he groaned to himself. “How could you do this to me?”










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Lucifer's Angel
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Cliff, you idiot, come to your senses :( I hope James and Scott fess up, it's not Cecily's fault, she's a good kid :( And I hope Clarisse gets a huge, permanent bruise, and gets no more modeling gigs. And that with the tampon was so disgusting, yet funny. Yeah, I can see why they grossed out Cliff :lol:
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“Absometallicafuckinglutely,” promised James. “But don’t ask me to say that three times in a row.” :lol: :lol:
Go Fran!!! I can't believe she really cut Clarisse's hair :lol: But what can I say, bitch clearly deserved that :angry And stuffing the cake in Clarisse's face was awesome :lol: :lol: Francesca rocks! :horns2

And so does Queen Victoria, you're great at coming up with names Ashley :horns2

And shiiit.... Have I already said Clarisse is pure evil? I HATE HER :ugh: :td:
Poor Cecily.... Not only Cliff thinks she's spoiled but now he thinks she took his ring away :ugh: I really hope James and Scott will tell him the truth...

“You really mean that Cliffy?” Clarisse pathetically asked, tears falling down her cheeks as she fucked around with the edges of her gauze pads." oh my, when I imagined that... :lol: :lol: :lol:

Awesome chapters, as always, you rock!! :horns2
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Verity
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Maggie- No, you rock! Thanks so much for reading. For some reason I like giving pets royal sounding names. :) I'm happy that you like Queen Victoria though. :P

Vanessa- I'm glad that appreciate my humor. The last chapter was a wee bit gnarly.
Now let's see if James and Scott fess up....





Chapter Fifty


Cecily sat outside on the porch of White Rock bright and early the next morning waiting for her Dad to take her fishing. She had the sketch that she had been meaning to give to him with her. It was a pencil sketch that she had done of Geezer sitting in the grass. She had never tried drawing Geezer before, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever try it again, for he was much more interested in chasing birds and squirrels than in sitting still posing for her for hours while she sketched.

Needless to say, Cecily thought that the sketch had turned out pretty decent, and at least her father would like it. She had even signed it To Daddy, Love Cecily June 1992

Cliff also had his ass up and out of bed early that morning. The first thing that he did was went straight to the bureau and searched again through the drawer for the ring. For the hell of it, he went through every other drawer in the dresser, pulling out clothes, books, underwear, a missing pack of cigarettes that he had been looking for, a blue satin cloth that Kirk had given him one year for Christmas to polish his bass off with, CDs, shells and rocks from the beach, and a Frisbee. Not only did he search through the drawers, but he also moved the bureau away from the wall to see if perhaps for some odd reason the ring had fallen down behind it. There was nothing. There was only one option left that Cliff could think of, and that was that Cecily had took it.

He had been looking forward to spending some time with her before she went off to England now that he was home from his tour. Unfortunately, it looked that they would spend that time arguing instead. He hated to believe it, but it made perfect sense. Cecily couldn’t stand Clarisse, everyone knew that, and she knew where Cliff had stashed the ring. She must have swiped it, hoping that it would keep him from proposing. Well she was damn wrong!

Cliff entered the front porch. Cecily sprang up from her chair, a picture in one hand, and a fishing pole in the other. “Ready to go fishing Daddy?” she asked.

“We aren’t going to be doing any fishing today Cess,” Cliff said coldly.

“We aren’t?” asked Cecily, confused over her Father’s cold and distant disposition.

“We’re going to go for walk and have a little talk instead,” said Cliff.

“Oh,” answered Cecily, still clearly confused as she set down her fishing pole and followed him off of the porch. Maybe it’s about Jackson, she thought. Scott and Francesca said that they were going to tell him how good I’ve been. I bet he’s going to tell me that Jackson is coming back, and he wants to give me the birth control speech.

The two walked for a while in silence, Cliff could barely look at her. It broke his heart to have his sweet, little, Angelfuck pull such a stunt. She was even wearing the purple and black Misfits shirt that he had bought for her a couple of months ago.

Finally, Cecily broke the silence. “I made this for you Daddy,” she said as she held out the sketch of Geezer.

“Cess we need to talk,” replied Cliff. He took the picture, but barely gave it a glance as he set it aside. “What’d you do with it?” he demanded.

“With what?” asked Cecily.

“You know what,” Cliff growled, lighting up a cigarette to give him courage.

Cecily actually had a good idea what was going on. She couldn’t believe that he had tried to propose so soon. She also wasn’t sure what she should do. She couldn’t rat out her friends.

“Daddy,” she said. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Where’s Clarisse’s ring Cecily?” Cliff demanded.

“In your vintage LP drawer,” replied Cecily weakly.

“No it’s not!” Cliff yelled. “Now quit fucking around with me Cecily! I was very close to letting you have Jackson back, and now I will never let that boy even come near you until you tell me what you did with Clarisse’s ring.”

Cecily wished with all of her might that James and Scott had been there to help her. “I’m sorry Daddy but I honestly don’t have the ring,” she said. That wasn’t completely a lie. After all, she didn’t have it.

“You’re lying!” Cliff squawked. “I know that you fucking hate Clarisse. I can never seem to make everyone happy with my decisions. Emily wasn’t happy, now you aren’t happy, but I’m sick and tired of always having to worry about if everyone else is happy! I want to make Cliff happy, and that means that I’m going to marry Clarisse. Now give me the ring Cess!”

“I don’t have it!” Cecily said again.

“What the fuck has gotten into you Cess?” Cliff demanded. “Not only did you take the ring that I bought for the woman that I love, but you threw the dress that I bought you down into a heap on your closet floor.”

“I would never do that!” Cecily cried. “I loved that dress. I had it hanging up on the hanger, that’s where it disappeared.”

“Clarisse found it on the floor of your closet crumpled up in a ball,” shot Cliff. He threw away his cigarette. “That’s the last fucking time I buy you anything.”

Cecily didn’t even remember putting the lilac dress in the closet. And she had cleaned out her closet twice looking for the dress, and had never found it. “Daddy,” she said. “There’s just no way that’s possible. I cleaned out my entire closet emptying it, searching for that dress and never saw it.”

“What’s with all the lying?” Cliff asked. “You never used to lie. Now you’re lying about your dress, and you’re lying about Clarisse’s ring. It’s like you’ve gone mad!” He grabbed her by the arm with one of his hands. The other hand had Cecily’s now half crumpled sketch in it. “Come on!” he shouted. “I’m going to take you back to the house where you are going to sit in your room until you’re ready to tell the truth.”

“Daddy don’t be mad at me!” pleaded Cecily. “Please! I didn’t throw my dress in a heap, and I didn’t steal Miss Clarisse’s ring. I gave you my blessing, remember?”

“Yeah,” Cliff snorted. “Well that was a bunch of bullshit too. Everything that you say is bullshit.”

He dragged her up the stairs and into the house. James, Francesca, Clarisse, and Scott Ian were all in the kitchen having breakfast.

“Good morning Cecily,” Francesca greeted cheerfully. “I’m making your favorite, waffles this morning. Now do you want them plain or with nuts on them?”

“She’s not having any,” said Cliff. “Cecily gets no breakfast.”

“She’s pretty skinny Cliff,” remarked James. “You should let her eat, or else she’ll never get nice, juicy, boobs.”

“She doesn’t need nice, juicy, boobs,” Cliff retorted. “What she needs is her ass kicked, and her head bashed into a wall.”

“Cecily has been on really good behavior,” said Scott. “Way better behavior than I’ve ever been on. Even at my grandmother’s funeral, I didn’t behave half as well as Cecily did these past three days.”

“Shut the fuck up Scott!” Cliff snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned back to Cecily. “I’ll give you one last chance Cess,” he barked. “What’d you do with Clarisse’s present?”

“I don’t have it!” Cecily cried. She looked over to James and Scott for help. James and Scott exchanged a look, but neither came to Cecily’s defense.

“Cecily took my present!” Clarisse squawked from her perch at the table. “What a horrid little girl. I would never take a present that belonged to her.”

“I didn’t take it!” Cecily yelled, tears starting to sting her eyes. “Honestly Daddy! I didn’t!”

“I believe her,” said James.

“Cecily, I’m sorry but until you tell the truth, there will be no Jackson,” said Cliff.

“But I minded Clarisse just like you said!” cried Cecily. “I practically fucking licked out her pussy for the entire time.”

“Come on Burton!” James cut in. “You’re being a little harsh Dude.”

“James!” Cliff squealed. “Do you have any fucking idea how much that present cost me?”

Yeah,thought James. Unfortunately I do. But instead, he stupidly shook his head.

“Of course not!” Cliff snapped. “You’re all mainstream now so money means nothing to you, but to me I still need to watch how much I spend.”

“Was it a ring Cliff?” Clarisse asked.

Cliff looked sadly over at Clarisse. “Yes,” he replied. “I was going to ask you to marry me.”

Clarisse let out a shriek like a peacock as she sprang up from her chair and ran over to him, throwing her arms around him. “Yes!” she cried. “Yes, yes, I will!”

“He hasn’t technically asked you yet!” Francesca sneered from where she was standing over by the stove. She hadn’t told James about Doctor Ken, or about the cancer stunt. She had never dreamed that Cliff was going to propose so soon. She had to do something before he committed to such a terrible mistake!

“I really want you to have your ring Clarisse,” Cliff answered. “You said that you really wanted a ring.”

“Yeah, but Lord only knows what you picked out Clifford,” Clarisse snapped as she admired her long, slender, fingers. “Take me to pick one out instead. We could go this afternoon.”

“I can’t buy anything until I have that ring back,” said Cliff.

Cecily threw James and Scott and glance. Weren’t they going to say something? Weren’t they going to tell Cliff what had really gone down with the ring. Instead, James just mouthed “sorry.”

“I’m going to call everyone that I know and tell them that I’m engaged!” Clarisse squealed as she danced out of the room.

“See Cecily!” Cliff snapped. “Now the engagement is still on. Your scheming didn’t do one bit of good. Now give me back the fucking ring!”

“I don’t have it!” Cecily yelled again, tears falling down her face. “Really Daddy! I don’t have the ring.”

“Well then,” Cliff snarled. “Not only will you not be permitted to see Jackson anymore, but you’re also not allowed to leave your bedroom until you tell me the truth!”

“But I already told you the truth!” shouted Cecily.

Cliff grabbed Cecily by the arm and began to roughly lead her up the stairs. Cecily threw James one more look of desperation, but all he did was turn his gaze down upon the floor.

***

Cliff opened the door to the Chippewa Room where Cecily slept, and threw Cecily down on the bed. “I am very, very, disappointed in you Cecily Burton!” he yelled at her. “How could you do this to me?” he asked. “After all that I’ve done for you, this is how you treat me?”

“I swear on Geezer Butler’s life I don’t have the ring!” Cecily wailed.

“Do not bring Sir Geezer Butler into this!” Cliff snarled.

“You got to believe me Daddy,” Cecily pleaded. She reached out for his hand, but Cliff snatched it away.

“Believe you?” he snorted. “Cecily you went sneaking around with a boy at night, and not only did you do that, but you went to a place that you were forbidden to go to, and you took a ring that cost me a hell of a lot of money! I’m never going to ever trust you again Cecily!”

He paused, to make sure that she was listening. Cecily was fully crying now, tears streaming down her face.

“You’re just like your mother,” he went on. “You’re just like Claudia.”

“Daddy!” Cecily cried. “Don’t ever say that. I am in no way like that vicious, vile, woman!”

“You can sure tell that you aren’t my real, related, daughter,” Cliff said quietly. “If I had a real daughter by blood, she would never do this to me. She’d want her Father to be happy, and marry the woman that he loves.”

The words hung in the air like piercing shards of ice. Cecily had never been so hurt. She even felt worse than she had after reading Claudia’s letter. She had always worshipped and adored Cliff, and he had always said things to her about how much they looked and acted a like, and how she was the perfect daughter for him. His words had really hit her where it hurt.

“You are to stay here until you get your head out of your ass and tell me the truth!” Cliff yelled. “No phone calls to Jackson, no TV, no phone, no food, no bullshit!”

“You can’t fucking starve me!” Cecily snapped at him.

“I sure the fuck can!” answered Cliff. “If you get hungry enough, maybe you’ll tell the truth.”

“You’re not my father!” Cecily screamed. “You’re not my real Dad! My real, biological, Dad wouldn’t starve me,” quipped Cecily, looking away from Cliff. “He’d believe me! He’d stand by me!”

“Well then why don’t you go out and find him and go live with him instead,” snapped Cliff. “Have him deal with you, and all of your bullshit!”

He slammed the door to her room shut and locked it. He could immediately hear Cecily sobbing into her pillow. He made his way down the stairs. There on the floor at the foot of them, sat the sketch that Cecily had made for him of Geezer, totally crumpled. Cecily wasn’t the only one who crumpled shit. He had totally crumpled her gift to him. As he read the inscription he immediately felt bad for saying those things to her. He really shouldn’t have said those things about Claudia, and about her not being his real daughter.

“I never knew,” he sighed as he sadly stuffed Cecily’s sketch into his back pocket. “That getting engaged would mean losing my daughter…”

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Shayi
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*whap* Oh yes, that is me slapping Cliff upside the head for being such a damned numpty! Honestly! Things just seem to go from bad to worse for poor Cess - Cliff really needs to get his priorities straight - has Cess ever really out and out lied to him, and about something so big? No.

And James and Scott deserve a good wallop at the same time for keeping quiet on the whole front. Honestly!

I can kinda see Cess running away after this... but I don't know, I'm just guessing!

I am certainly looking forward to the potential fallout when Francesca tells James about everything that Clarisse has been up to (and man does Francesca get feisty in these episodes, it's superb :) )

Man Gastropod are some gnarly gross bastards aren't they! Ick! But *G* fair shout to you for managing to come up with something vile enough to make even Cliff blush :) Most excellent!

Back to Emily for a second - I love the fact that she now has a little dog called Queen Victoria :) What a superb name! (that's another thing with your stories, you always come up with wonderful names for people, animals and what have you!). Now what also sent a spark of hope out is the fact that Cliff had some trouble when he was trying to compare Emily and Clarisse.... good good. Maybe it will penetrate his thick skull that there is no comparison - that Clarisse is a bitch and that Emily rocks :) (It also amuses me that Cliff's foul mouth has rubbed off on Emily! Mind you my foul mouth evidently rubbed off on my brother who informed his teacher she was as funny as syphilis. I have now explained to him the concept of time and place!)

This story is just getting better and better through and through. You put so many twists and turns in, so many threads of drama, but you handle it all so skillfully, it never seems that something is out of place or unnatural within the story, or that you really have to manipulate things to make it work. Everything flows so so well. Incredible stuff! :heart:
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Cliff, you idiot :angry I wouldn't be surprised if Cecily did run away, poor kid :( And bad James and Scott for not speaking up. I hope Francesca tells Cliff everything, he's really got to come to his senses, I am so mad at him now :angry
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Verity
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Shayi- The word "numpty" made me laugh. :lol: I love it.
And I understand about the swearing. I almost said badass in front of my 10 year old student once.
I am thrilled that you like my names for people and animals. I always thought that was one of my weaker points.

Vanessa- We'll see if Scott and James speak up. Honestly, they can all be such pigs in this. :rolleyes:

this chapter is kind of dry, but I promise we'll have some good stuff a few chapters from now.


Chapter Fifty-One

“Hot diggity damn!” Scott Ian exclaimed as he breezily plunked himself down at the kitchen table next to James, and popped open a bottle of Warsteiner. “I always thought that you were a gifted musician, and I’ve heard that you’re quite the lothario in the sack, but you’re a downright fucking brilliant man!” he continued.

James let out an unhappy sigh, and intercepted Scott’s beer from him. However, Scott didn’t put up a fight. “You can have it,” he said. “I don’t much care for Warsteiner anyway. Plus, you deserve it. You got our asses out of hot water Man.”

“Scott,” said James as he finished off the beer and hurled the bottle across the room where it landed into the graveyard of other empty beer bottles that decorated the kitchen. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Damn right,” answered Scott. “I was all prepared to set the record straight with Cliff and have my ass sent home, but your idea to keep quiet and play dumb was fucking badass. Cecily got all of the blame for losing the ring! We’re in the clear. You probably don’t even have to have that dude over in Denmark make a replica anymore.”

“We let a twelve-year-old little girl take the heat for something that we did,” said James. “Doesn’t that make you feel shitty? We practically crucified her.”

“Of course it does,” admitted Scott Ian. “Cecily is a nice girl, and she has good taste in music, but I’d rather have Cliff yell at her than me. They were really going at it up there too. I even heard Cecily tell him that he wasn’t her real father.”

“I’m still going to get the replica ring made,” said James thoughtfully. “Then I can have it magically turn up, and Cliff won’t be mad at Cecily anymore. We just won’t tell him how it magically reappears.”

“You really are fucking genius Het,” remarked Scott as he opened another Warsteiner. “And they say that Lars is the brains of Metallica.”

Just then, Francesca who had no idea about James and Scott’s famous ring debacle entered the room. “Well if you ask me,” she declared. “I can see why Cecily took that ring. I would have done the same thing myself. Cliff just can’t marry that bitch.”

“What do you mean? What’d Clarisse ever do to you?” asked James.

“I guess Miss Franny didn’t tell you about the great cancer scare,” said Scott. “Clarisse told us that she was going in to have cancer surgery, and that she needed our help. So we help her and shit, only to find out that she’s really having a liposuction.”

“No way!” James gasped.

Scott and Fran nodded.

“Then she even had the nerve to go home and boss us around some more,” spat Fran. “James, she’s just awful! Calling her a pig isn’t even a suitable enough term. It’s an insult to all pigs!”

“My mother died of cancer,” James mumbled. “That was really just fucking wrong of Clarisse to do such a thing.”

“You got yourself one hell of a woman James,” Scott went on as he gestured at Francesca. “The real reason that Clarisse got her hair cut is because during one of her bitch fests where she was bossing us around, Fran lopped some of it off with a pair of scissors.”

James whirled around to face his girlfriend. “Really?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “No fuck. A chick fight? I would have paid good money to see that. How come the cool stuff always happens when I’m not here?”

“Well you didn’t get to see a chick fight,” said Scott. “But you got to see a Cliff and Cecily fight.”

“Again,” sighed James. “That’s all those two do is fight. Damn, I ain’t ever having any children.”

“Cliff and Cecily wouldn’t fight so much if Clarisse wasn’t around,” said Fran. “James, I really need to talk to you about something.” She gave Scott a glance. “Alone,” she added.

“Humph!” Scott snorted. “There ain’t anything that you have to say to James that you can’t say in front of me,” he quipped as he played with the cap to his beer.

“Actually there is Scott,” answered Francesca. “It’s very serious.”

“You slept with Scott while I was away?” guessed James. “Didn’t you?”

“No fucking way Dude!” shrieked Scott. “After watching her snip off the Plastic Princess’s hair, I gained a world of respect and admiration for your woman, not to mention she’s also blessed with a nice rack. But I would never sleep with another band member’s woman. Maybe you guys do that kind of shit in Metallica, but Anthrax does not.”

“Yeah Scott,” said James. “In Metallica we do that kind of shit. I even slept with Lars’s ex wife once.”

“Oh James you’re such a yutz!” Francesca groaned. “You guys really do need to leave women alone.” She tugged on his sleeve. “We can take a walk out on the beach and talk about this,” she went on.

“A walk on the beach?” repeated James as he stood up from the table and grabbed another Warsteiner to take with him. “I like the sound of that.” He gestured obscenely to his package.

“Well keep your dick tucked inside,” snapped Fran. “We need to talk first.”

They made their way out of the house and down the slope to the beach. It was a lovely day, the sun was shining, and it was comfortably warm.

“I need to talk to you about Cliff and Clarisse,” said Francesca once they were well out of earshot of the house.

“You didn’t have a threesome with them did you?” James asked. “I’ve had threesomes with Burton before and in my opinion they suck ass. He always gets to fuck the chick first and it ain’t fair.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter James!” Francesca cried. “This is important!”

James couldn’t imagine what in the hell Francesca had to say about Cliff and Clarisse that was so important, but the urgency in her voice told him that if he wanted to keep his South American bombshell around, he better shut up and listen to her, or else she might cut off a hunk of his hair too.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’m listening.”

“Clarisse is having an affair on Cliff,” Francesca started. “It’s with her plastic surgeon.”

James’s eyes grew wide. He took a thoughtful slug of beer. “Really?” he said. “Does Cliff know?”

“Of course not!” Francesca replied. “That’s why they call it an affair. The guy is married and has a few kids of his own, so that’s why he won’t divorce his wife and leave her for Clarisse.”

“Damn,” James said as he let out a whistle. “Clarisse sure doesn’t have much luck hooking up with dudes that don’t have any kids.”

“She told me that if he ever did get divorced, that she’d leave Cliff in a heartbeat,” reported Fran. “I had promised her that I would never tell anyone about this but I like Cliff. He’s a fucking insane nutcase, and he smokes way too much weed, but he’s a nice person, a hard worker, and he’s a wonderful father to Cecily. Overprotective, but his heart is in the right place. I also know that he’s a very close friend to you, and I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“It’s going to kill him when he finds out,” said James as he finished off the beer and threw the empty bottle down on the beach. “I kept trying to tell him when he first was getting serious about that girl that there was no way in hell that a young, freshly out of high school, chickie like her would want some dude with a kid who’s hitting thirty.”

“She’s a gold digger I’m afraid,” Francesca sighed. “The plastic surgeon is loaded too, and I think she prefers him over Cliff, probably because he doesn’t smoke weed, doesn’t have to travel as much, and can get her discounts on all of her various plastic surgery expeditions. The point is, even if the surgeon never does get his divorce, Clarisse is always going to be messing around behind Cliff’s back. If it isn’t with this dude, it will be with another. I think your friend deserves better than that.”

James watched, his eyes fixed on Francesca’s ass as she bent over to pick up the beer bottle that he had thrown down on the beach. She handed it to him.

“Throw this away,” she barked. “It’s not my job to clean up after you.”

“No,” agreed James. “It’s Hildegarde’s.” He sighed as he took the beer bottle. “Thanks for telling me about this,” he said. “I hate to hurt him, but I’m going to have to tell him.”

James felt that it was his duty as a friend to tell Cliff. It was the least that he could do since he had been the one who had lost his engagement ring, and had let his daughter take the fall for it.

“Well you better tell him soon,” murmured Francesca. “Before that bimbo broad of his goes off pissing away all of his money on some big, extravagant, wedding.”

“Damn,” said James as he shook his head. “Burton’s going to have to call off another engagement. This will be like the sixth wedding that he’s called off.”

“He should be quite good at it by now,” Francesca muttered. She sighed as she looked out at the never ending ocean in front of her. “Oh well,” she said. “It may hurt him to find out about Clarisse, but perhaps he’ll learn a lesson.”

“What do you mean?” asked James.

“Didn’t he cheat on Emily behind her back?” said Fran. “With strippers?”

James nodded. “And not only were they strippers, but they were nasty, skank-whore strippers. Those girls were just plain gnarly. My skin crawled for three days after bedding those broads.”

“That’s nice James,” Francesca put in sarcastically. “Anyway, now Cliff will know how it feels to be cheated on.”

“True,” agreed James. “He had a pretty good thing going on with Emily. She let him smoke weed. Fuck, she even made him a “special” pot birthday cake one year. She never bitched at him about being in the recording studio all day and all night, and her family was fucking loaded too. Maybe this was actually good for him because if he ever finds another good, decent, chick like Emily, he won’t ruin things by jumping into the sack with some whore.”

“I hope so,” said Fran.

“Anyway,” said James, giving Francesca a devilish look. “Speaking of jumping into the sack…”
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