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Daughter of the Year; Ze Sequel to Father of the Year
Topic Started: December 14, 2007, 12:15 am (11,147 Views)
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Some Kind Of Monster
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Poor Emily... Eloping does sound romantic but she had to give up her wedding ceremony... I can see why she's not so happy about it...
Mrs. Fitzgerald (what a horrid woman :ugh: , but I'm glad Emily is standing up for herself before her :D ) will shit :lol: And I'm also curious about Cliff's reaction...
Awesome chapter, I was in a bad mood and it cheered me up :)
I can't wait to read next !!! :heart:
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Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Wow, his mom is a real bitch :angry No wonder they want to elope, I probably would do the same thing, if I ever found someone who'd wanna marry my ass :lol: If they had gone with the big wedding, the old biddy would've fainted; if Metallica played, she would've exploded :nanner:
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Shayi- I'll have to check those books out sometime. I looked them up briefly, and they seem interesting. Mrs. Fitzgerald is based on an aunt though. :) And a rather meddlesome one at that.

Maggie- I'm glad that I could cheer ya up! :dance

Vanessa- I agree that Mrs. Fitzgerald is quite the bitch. They're a lot of bitches in this story.


I wrote this chapter a few days ago. It's one of my favorities because it's the entrance of Kirk again! :dance


Chapter Sixty-Five


Mrs. Fitzgerald had been fast asleep when she heard a noise that jolted her out of her slumber.

“Who’s there?” she cackled as she clutched the covers to her chin. Fitzgerald Manor was filled with all sorts of wonderful things. There were valuable antiques from the eighteenth century, baubles, and jewels, and a safe stashed to the brim with money. What if they were being robbed?

Mrs. Fitzgerald heard noises again, and she thought that she even heard voices. She leapt up out of bed, and threw on her robe and slippers. She picked up a fireplace poker from over by the hearth and carefully crept her way out of the master suite, and into the hallway. Mrs. Fitzgerald was a pit bull, and there was no way in hell that she was going to let some robbers ransack her estate.

The noise was coming from outside. She walked out onto the front porch where she was greeted by the sight of a ladder propped up against the side of the house. “You!” she shouted. “You’ve been caught!” her voice crackled through the quiet, summer, night like a firecracker.

Evan who was at the top of the ladder, and holding Emily’s suitcase was startled at once. He totally lost his balance, sending himself, Emily’s suitcase, and the ladder tumbling backwards.

“AAAAAHHHHH!” Evan shrieked as he tumbled back. Fortunately, his fall was broken by the apricot tree that he fell into. He tumbled through the branches and landed face down on the ground.

“Evan!” Emily gasped. She, Cecily, and Queen Victoria hurriedly made their way downstairs and out to the front porch but they were too late. Mrs. Fitzgerald dressed in her robe, chemise, bedroom slippers, and night cap had already made her way over to Evan. It was dark, and when Evan had tumbled back, Emily’s suitcase had popped open disposing massive amounts of ivory satin. It had draped itself on top of Evan, shielding his face, so Mrs. Fitzgerald had no idea who it was. She began to hit the mound of ivory satin furiously with the fireplace poker.

“Take that!” she yelled into the night. “And that! And that!”

“Mrs. Fitzgerald!” Emily shrieked as she and Cecily emerged onto the front porch. “That’s Evan! You’re hitting Evan! Stop!”

Mrs. Fitzgerald froze, the fireplace poker in midair, the color draining from her face. Slowly, a rather bedraggled and horrified looking Evan emerged from under the cloud of now rather stained and muddied ivory satin.

“Hi Mum,” he mumbled.

“Evan Patrick Fitzgerald!” his mother gasped. “What on earth are you doing?” She looked over at Emily and Cecily, noticing that they were all dressed.

Evan turned away, choosing to focus his attention on the mud that was all over the knees of his pants.

“We were getting married,” Emily said finally.

“Getting married?” repeated Mrs. Fitzgerald.

“We were eloping,” Emily explained.

“Eloping!” Mrs. Fitzgerald exclaimed. “Whatever for? We have a beautiful wedding planned for you two!”

“Because you drove us to!” shouted Evan. “You drove us away by always sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong!”

“That’s quite enough Evan Patrick!” his mother exclaimed. “I’m sure that this was all Emily’s idea. You would never think of something so uncivilized.” She turned to Emily who was still clutching onto Queen Victoria. “Running off to elope like a knocked up teenager might have been good enough for you and your American punk rocker boyfriend,” she scoffed. “But it’s not how we do things in this family!”

“Don’t you yell at her!” Evan cut in. “It was actually my idea.”

“Why on earth would you do such a thing?” Mrs. Fitzgerald demanded. “Do you have any idea how many of your Father’s friends are planning on coming to this event?”

“Yeah,” Evan answered. “That’s why we’re eloping. To get away from you, and the three ring circus that you’ve turned our wedding into!”

“I’m greatly disappointed in the both of you,” Mrs. Fitzgerald scolded. “Do you have any idea how much work and careful, articulate, planning has already gone into your wedding day? The caterers have been preparing menus for weeks, and the servants have been scrubbing every nook and cranny of the manor. This is how you repay them? By sneaking off into the night like a pack of wild gypsies?”

Emily looked at poor Evan who still had her wedding dress strewn over him. Her wedding dress was now rather bedraggled too. It had grass and dirt stains all over it, and it was now badly ripped. She hung her head. She supposed that it was rather selfish of them to go off and elope when already so much work had been done, and so much money had been spent.

“She’s right Evan,” Emily murmured, taking comfort in Queen Victoria’s silky fur.

“You two have done nothing except prove that neither one of you are even close to capable of planning your own wedding!” barked Mrs. Fitzgerald. “That’s it. From now I’m taking total control over the rest of the wedding plans.”

“Mother!” Evan sternly snapped.

“Hush!” Mrs. Fitzgerald scolded. “You’ve done quite enough for one night. I’m taking care of the rest of the wedding plans. You two obviously don’t care whether or not you have a decent wedding, but I do and I will make sure of it.”

“I wash my hands of it,” said Emily. “Do the wedding plans! I no longer give a shit! All I ask is that we don’t have a head table at the reception, and that Cecily does my flowers.” She turned to Evan and unburied him from the masses of ivory satin. “I’ll take this to the cleaner’s tomorrow,” she murmured.

“Don’t bother,” said Mrs. Fitzgerald. “You’re not wearing it.”

“We’re going through with the wedding, so of course I am,” replied Emily.

Mrs. Fitzgerald shook her head. “I’m in charge now, and I’ve always hated that dress.”

“I designed this dress!” shot Emily. “I had it custom made.”

“You had it custom made for a wedding that you were going to have with another man,” retorted Mrs. Fitzgerald. “My Evan deserves another dress.”

“I had it custom made for me!” Emily yelled. “Not for Cliff!”

“She’s right Ma’am,” piped up Cecily, coming to her mother’s defense. “If she had had the dress made for my Dad, she wouldn’t have bothered with any dress at all. She would have just walked down the aisle naked.”

“Shut your mouth!” Mrs. Fitzgerald barked at her. “You’re a foul little creature!”

“You will not take that tone of voice with my daughter!” Emily cut in firmly, putting a hand on Cecily’s shoulder.

Mrs. Fitzgerald just glared at them. In her opinion, that little peep squeak needed to go back to the United States to her Father where she belonged. She did not belong tagging along with Emily and her son at Fitzgerald Manor. It was bad enough that her son was going to be paying for her violin lessons!

“If you know what’s good for you,” she sneered. “You will go with me first thing tomorrow to get you another wedding dress. That one is satin, and satin always looks so cheap. It’s all ripped now anyway because of your foolishness.”

She gave them all another dirty look and then flounced off inside of the house.

“I’m sorry Dearest,” Evan miserably sighed as he brushed Emily’s cheek with a kiss. “I don’t really care which dress you wear to our wedding. No matter what, you’ll always look beautiful to me.”

“I’m just not meant to ever wear this silly dress,” Emily sighed as she crumpled the never ending mounds of satin into a giant ball. “I should have sold it to my friend who wanted to buy it. It would have looked better on her anyway.” She handed Queen Victoria over to Cecily. “You can pick out the new dress,” she said. “I don’t really care.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that Mom,” answered Cecily. “I don’t know a thing about wedding dresses.”

“Well then Queen Victoria can pick it out, because I really don’t give a shit anymore,” Emily quipped.

Cecily looked thoughtful. “Queen Victoria can’t pick it out,” she said. “But I do know someone that could.”

“Oh?” said Emily.

Cecily nodded. “Let’s have Mr. Kirk do it!”

***

Cecily happily sat in a chair in the corner of one of London’s finest bridal boutiques. On their way to the boutique Emily had bought her a bar of fine Cadbury chocolate from one of the shops. Cecily broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth savoring the smooth, rich, velvety, creaminess. Just then, a familiar figure sailed into the boutique. Cecily jumped up from her chair at once, forgetting about her candy.

Most people got decked out in their Sunday finest to go to church and hear the good word. However, Kirk Lee Hammett was once quoted in Metal World Magazine as saying that “life is just one big dress up,” and he certainly lived by those words. It didn’t matter whether he was going to an awards ceremony, an interview, a stadium packed with thousands upon thousands of people, out to clean the garage, or wedding gown shopping Kirk was always dressed for the occasion. Today was no exception. Cecily could have spotted him from a mile away.

Kirk was dressed in a smart black pinstripe suit. The pants were very slim fitting, hugging his ass, and elongating his slender frame. Under the suit jacket he wore an orchid colored silky button down shirt with the top two buttons stylishly left unbuttoned. A few thin silver chains were delicately draped around his neck. He wore snazzy black shoes with silver buckles that were so shiny that you could even see your reflection in them, and his hands adorned several large gold and silver rings. A pair of dark Armani sunglasses completed the ensemble by sitting perched upon his flowing crown of inky, jet black, curls.

“Mr. Kirk!” Cecily cried as she skipped over to him, waving.

“Hey Cecily!” Kirk greeted happily as he gave Cecily a hug. “It’s sure nice to see you again!” He turned to Emily who was standing right behind her. “And it certainly is a pleasure to see you as well,” he said to her as he took her hand and kissed it. “Enchante Mademoiselle,” he murmured with impeccable French accent.

“He speaks French!” Emily observed as she blushed.

“Bob Rock insists that we learn several world languages since we’re all international now,” said Kirk. “I’m going to be learning how to speak Mandarin this coming fall.”

“I wish that I spoke French,” said Cecily. “If I played the violin and spoke French I bet that I could get laid twice in one night.”

“Cecily Virginia!” Emily scolded. “Could you imagine Cliff speaking French?” she scoffed. “The only kind of language that man knows besides English is foul language.”

Kirk’s smile faded for a moment, but only for a moment, but Cecily noticed it. Perhaps he too noticed how harsh Emily was being regarding Cliff. “Well,” he stated. “Shall we get on with the shopping?”

“Oh yes,” nodded Cecily.

Kirk turned to Emily. “Are you going to model some dresses for us?” he asked.

Emily shrugged. “I honestly don’t care anymore about what I wear. If it were up to me, I’d wear the wedding dress that I designed myself, but it’s not up to me anymore.”

“No. It’s not!” shot Mrs. Fitzgerald finally making her way over to them from where she had been chattering with the mother of another bride who was getting married the same day that Emily was. She frowned at Kirk. “This is the friend who’s going to help you select a wedding dress?” she asked, her voice filled with disgust.

“Don’t worry about Mr. Kirk Ma’am,” said Cecily. “He knows not to wear white after Labor Day.”

“But Cecily,” Kirk said. “It isn’t after Labor Day.”

He sighed as he started to thoroughly browse his way through the racks and racks of wedding gowns humming Kashmir by Led Zeppelin as he looked.

“All of the latest styles are in the master catalogue,” the saleslady informed him. “We don’t have them in the store yet, but we could order them in time for the wedding.”

“I’d like to see them,” said Kirk. “We don’t want Emily wearing anything outdated to her wedding.”

“Tell me about it,” Mrs. Fitzgerald sniffed as the saleslady went to get the catalogue. “Emily was going to wear a wedding dress that’s already six-years-old.”

“You must be kidding?” sniffed the other mother-of-the-bride who was there with her daughter. “My Elmira wouldn’t even wear a wedding dress that’s a month old, let alone six-years-old.”

“It was a classic corset style dress,” shot Emily. “It will never go out of style.”

“There’s nothing like a fine fitting corset on a lady,” murmured Kirk as he opened the master catalogue and began to leaf through it.

He was quiet for a while, looking through the catalogue with interest. Emily spent her time sitting over on a chaise, sullenly staring out the shop window, as Mrs. Fitzgerald prattled on to the other mother and her insipid daughter Elmira.

“Ooooooh!” Kirk finally shrieked. “I think I found it!” He began to excitedly point at one of the pages in the catalogue. Cecily, Mrs. Fitzgerald, Elmira, and her mother made their way over to Kirk at once.

The dress that Kirk had found was handmade all from dupioni silk. It had short puffed sleeves that were lightly dusted with fine handcrafted lace imported from Sweden. The bodice was decorated with beads sewn on by hand, and it had a monarch train that went on for ten fucking feet.

“Holy shit!” Cecily gasped. “Mom! You must come see it! It’s so pretty!”

“I don’t wish to see it,” retorted Emily, not moving from her chaise. “And don’t say shit. You’re not a peddler selling rags from under the London Bridge.”

The saleslady peered over Kirk’s shoulder. “That one is a beauty,” she commented about the dress. “It’s the latest style from Paris.”

“Ooooh!” Elmira cried to her mother. “It’s from Paris!”

Even Mrs. Fitzgerald’s eyes were shining. For a punk rocker, this Kirk Hammett character didn’t do too bad picking out a suitable wedding gown.
“It’s also the most expensive gown in the entire catalogue,” the saleslady continued.

“I’ve always had expensive taste,” Kirk mused as he admired one of his many rings. “With everything from my clothes, guitars, Scotch, and unfortunately my women.”

“We’ll take it!” said Mrs. Fitzgerald. “That’s the one!”

“Me too!” said Elmira’s mother. “My Elmira wants that dress too!”

“Very well,” replied the saleslady. “I can place the two orders in together. That way we can combine the shipping. Now since the dresses will be imported in from Paris, I will need to give them Emily and Elmira’s measurements over the phone.” She began to measure Elmira, who was much bigger than Emily.

“Come here Emily!” Mrs. Fitzgerald barked at her. “We need to measure you.”

“This is completely ridiculous!” Emily scoffed. “I don’t need some frill fest from Paris.”

“Yeah you do,” answered Kirk. “Every chick would want to wear that dress. Damn. If I had a vagina, I’d even wear that dress.”

“Are you sure that you don’t?” shot a grumpy Emily. Kirk just glared at her. Emily had sure picked up Cliff’s mouth during her tenure living with him.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” Cecily chirped up. “Oh Mother, you’re going to look like an angel. And the best thing is that it has a ten foot train! I’ll get to hold it for you.”

“Humph!” Emily snorted. “A train that long is the last thing that I need. I’ll trip over it for sure. Hell, it can get dragged through the mud and dirt on the way to the reception.”

“Not if you’re careful with it,” Mrs. Fitzgerald replied evenly. “That gown is the best and we Fitzgerald’s deserve the best.” She turned to the saleslady. “Are you sure that you can get this dress in by the seventeenth?”

“Oh yes,” the lady nodded. “We’ve even ordered and received gowns from them overnight.”

“Well if it’s not here in time for my Elmira’s wedding, I’ll throw the fit of the century,” said Elmira’s mother proudly.

“That won’t accomplish anything,” snapped Mrs. Fitzgerald. “If it’s not here in time, we Fitzgerald’s will take our business elsewhere.”

“I assure and promise you that both dresses will be here by the seventeenth,” the saleslady vowed.

“They better be,” quipped Elmira’s mother.

Mrs. Fitzgerald turned to Kirk.

“You did a fine job choosing Emily’s wedding dress,” she commented. “Much better than she would have done. Do you happen to know anything about shoes?”

A smile spread on Kirk’s face. “Ma’am,” he answered. “You’ve come to the right place…”
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Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Yay, Kirk :biggrin Wow, for a guy, he sure knows a lot about clothes :) And that dress sounded wonderful :heart: Mrs. Fitzgerald is a cunt, though :angry And how dare she talk like that to Cecily :angry
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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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Magnificent. That is the word for this - simply magnificent :)

Evan falling through the apricot tree and that whole shebang was hilarious! I wondered how things were going to get cocked up for them - and way you did it was superb :)

Quote:
 
It had draped itself on top of Evan, shielding his face, so Mrs. Fitzgerald had no idea who it was. She began to hit the mound of ivory satin furiously with the fireplace poker.


That was beautiful, simply beautiful. It made me laugh so hard! I really do feel sorry for poor Evan. Bad enough for Emily having Mrs Fitzgerald as a mother-in-law, but for Evan having to grow up with her... good lord. You have become a master at characterisations and Mrs Fitzgerald is a shining example of that :)

And...hallelujah - Mr Kirk is back!

(And you've made me want cadburys ;) )

The way he made an entrance looking so slick and suave, gorgeous chap that he is :)

Quote:
 
“I’ve always had expensive taste,” Kirk mused as he admired one of his many rings. “With everything from my clothes, guitars, Scotch, and unfortunately my women.”


And how very, very Kirk. Wonderful - it's so good to see the fellow back in it again (and able to speak French now...cool :) )

There was so so much about this chapter I loved, it was a sparkling example of your best humorous writing, I couldn't stop giggling. It was wonderful, wonderful work :)
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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I'm going to go ahead and post this since I started writing in way back and am trying to catch y'all up to where I'm at. That way I don't accidentally give shit away about the story.
It should be easy to do because I haven't had as much time to write this week,. :(


And thank you for ze wonderful comments. I seem to be pissing everyone around me off so it's nice to have some people who don't think I'm so terrible. I think it's the rainy weather. It's rainy and cold and I don't like it.

Anyway, this chapter adds a new character and I'm trying to decide if they should stick around or not.


Chapter Sixty-Six


“Wake up Clifford Lee you lazy slug!” demanded Aunt Josephine as she bustled into the Rose Room like a tornado.

Cliff rolled over in the bed, stuffing his head under the pillow. “Fuck off Aunt Jo!” he moaned.

“It’s two in the afternoon Cliff,” said his Aunt. “I think it’s time that you get up. Sleeping all day long isn’t good for you.”

“Oh come on Aunt Jo,” Cliff argued. “I’m going to be going back to school in the fall. It’s my summer vacation. I’m supposed to sleep all day.”

“Sleeping all day will only give you warts,” returned his Aunt. “Now get up!” She pulled the pillow from him and began to smack him with it. “You can come out of your room now,” she went on. “You’ve been banished up here long enough. And dress hastily! Brunhilda has breakfast, or should I say lunch waiting for you.”

“Gee,” mused Cliff. “You’re through with keeping me locked up in here like a dog in a kennel? Why the change of heart?”

“Because I need you to run to the store for me actually,” Aunt Josephine replied. “I’m having an Improvement Society Meeting here this afternoon. Brunhilda is busy preparing the food for it, and Barnabas is chimney sweeping today. I need you to pickup the sandwich party tray that I ordered, along with some tea and a jar of pimento.”

Cliff frowned. “Have Jason do it,” he returned. “You’re sucking his dick anyway.”

“I am not!” retorted Aunt Josephine. “Jason has a different whore every night to do that for him. Jason isn’t around today. He had to fly into Los Angeles last minute to do an interview for another bass magazine.”

“La tee da,” shot Cliff as he sat up in the bed and rummaged around on the night table for his pack of cigarettes. He frowned, seeing that they were empty.

“Here!” said Aunt Josephine as she threw a wad of cash at him. “I gave you extra so that you can buy yourself some more cigarettes, a case of beer, and those Milano cookies that you like so much.”

“Thanks Aunt Jo,” responded Cliff as he took the money and hopped out of bed. “You’re the best.”

“That’s more like it,” replied his Aunt. “Maybe now you won’t be quite so pissy. Hurry up! Brunhilda will need the pimento shortly. She’s making her famous cheese ball.”
Cliff got his ass out of bed, showered, and dressed himself in a Blue Oyster Cult T-shirt and pair of bellbottoms. He actually was feeling a little bit better about life. Jason was off in Los Angeles, which meant that Cliff had his Aunt all to himself. The only thing that he felt bad about was the fact that he had been a bit grumpy with Cecily yesterday. It wasn’t her fault that Evan Fitz-fart-knocker had bought her a violin.

“That asshole is trying to take Cecily away from us,” Cliff said to Geezer as he helped the old dog into the car. “I’ll show him. I’m going to write Cecily a letter, and send her a care package. Emily can’t cook for jack shit. Lord only knows what Emily has been feeding her over there.”

Geezer just rolled his eyes at Cliff, and then went back to gnawing at the blood stained boil that was on his leg.

“I’m going to call her too,” Cliff rambled on. “I’ll call her as soon as I get back from the market to apologize and let her know that I love her and miss her.”

For a small grocer the Napa Market carried quite a bit of stuff. Since it wasn’t a big supermarket chain things were a bit more expensive there, but that wasn’t a problem for Aunt Josephine. Plus they sold cheesecake by the slice, and carried imported beer.

Cliff had quite the time for himself spending Aunt Josephine’s money on fine beer, cigarettes, his cookies, a dried pig ear for Geezer, and an abundance of shit for Cecily. Fortunately, he did remember to get the pimento. He was in high spirits as he breezed through the door of Aunt Josephine’s whistling the Misfits, and clutching his paper grocery sack.

Brunhilda was bustling about like a madwoman trying to get all of the canapés ready for the meeting. Aunt Josephine and Mrs. Burton were sitting around drinking wine, and not really doing much of anything.

“Clifford!” Aunt Josephine exclaimed. “I sent you to the store to get me three things, not buy the entire store!” She began to raid through his paper grocery sack. “Milk Duds!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t send you to the store to buy Milk Duds.”

“Those are for Cecily,” replied Cliff. “Actually, most of this shit is. Well, except for the beer, cigarettes, and Milano cookies.”

“That’s a wonder,” Aunt Josephine scoffed.

“I’m putting together a care package for her,” Cliff announced as he opened the pack of cigarettes. “She’s skinny enough as it is, and I’m worried about her not getting enough food over there at Emily’s.”

“For Christ’s sake Clifford!” his mother snapped. “She’s in London, not a third world country. I’m sure that Emily won’t let her starve.” She reached for the box of Milk Duds, opened it, and dumped half of them into her mouth.

“Emily don’t know how to cook,” Cliff said in superior tone.

“It’s doesn’t know how to cook,” his mother corrected him. “Don’t talk like you haven’t finished grammar school yet.”

“From what I’ve heard, Mr. Evan is quite the chef himself,” said Brunhilda as she set to work on her famous cheese ball.

“He’s such a sweetie too,” added Aunt Josephine. “He bought Cecily a violin.”

“I can’t wait to hear her play,” Mrs. Burton gushed. “Cecily told me that he’s insanely handsome.”

“Oh yeah?” Cliff snorted. “Is there anything that Mr. Evan doesn’t do?”

“He doesn’t smoke weed,” said Brunhilda.

“Fuck you!” Cliff grunted as he flipped her off. He eyed his mother who was finishing off Cecily’s box of Milk Duds. “Just when in the hell did Cecily tell you that Mr. Evan was handsome? She’s only been in England for like two days.”

“She called here while you were off at the store,” his mother replied. “I talked to her for a good half hour. I love talking to my little granddaughter. She seems so happy over there with her mother. I can’t believe that you let a girl like Emily get away Cliff. Why’d you get rid of her?”

“She wouldn’t take it in the ass,” Cliff replied as he began to pick at Brunhilda’s cheese ball. Brunhilda whacked at his hand. “It’s for the better though,” Cliff went on as he drew it back. “I just can’t hold a candle to the perfect, dashing, and insanely handsome Evan Fitzgerald. Now excuse me while I go call my daughter since I’m the only one who hasn’t talked to her yet today.”

“Take that smelly mutt of yours with you!” Brunhilda cackled. “I can’t believe that you gave him one of those pig ear things! They make the entire house smell.”

“Brunhilda is right,” said Aunt Josephine. “The Improvement Society ladies will be here shortly, so you are to keep that dog out of the living room.”

“Ah Man,” Cliff moaned as he grabbed Geezer by the collar to usher him out of the room. “I don’t understand why you dumb Improvement Society ladies need to have some big powwow in the living room anyway. It’s not like you gals do anything except sit around and get drunk.”

“We make improvements!” snapped Aunt Josephine. “Just keep that dog out of the living room. Mrs. Wentworth has allergies.”

“Mrs. Wentworth needs her cooter dusted,” Cliff quipped. “It ain’t Geezer’s fault that he smells bad.”

“It isn’t,” his mother shot. “I’m sure glad that you’re going back to school again because your grammar sure needs it.”

Cliff frowned at her. His mother softened. “We’re just teasing you,” she said. “And I think that you’re just as dashing as Evan Fitzgerald, just in a different way. Now take your little dog and run along. Go play your bass.”

“He isn’t little,” Cliff muttered under his breath as he dragged Geezer out of the room. “And I don’t just play bass,” he went on. “I create fine works of art.”

Cliff and Geezer made their way towards the stairs. The last thing that Cliff wanted to do was listen to the Improvement Society prattle on like a bunch of chickens in a slaughter house. They were probably going to just sit there and gossip about how he had called off his wedding to Clarisse.
He’d go lock himself upstairs far away from their nonsense. He was just starting to head up the winding staircase when the doorbell rang. He sighed. He was right near the door, and Brunhilda was really busy. He supposed that he should open it. Some of the Improvement Society ladies must be early.

Cliff opened the door. His mouth dropped open at the sight of the chick that was standing on the door stoop. She certainly wasn’t in the Improvement Society, unless the Improvement Society had gotten much younger, and way hotter. She was of medium height, and had to be in her early twenties. She had long blonde hair that sputtled out in loose waves over her ample and totally smoking hot bosom. She was dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a tight Metallica T-shirt that showed off her God given assets quite nicely. She wore a pair of little Metallica earrings and a necklace with that snake thingy from the cover of the Black Album. Cliff just gawked at her, stunned into silence at the sight of heaven sent sex right upon his doorstep.

“Hellooooo,” the girl said in a giggly, sprightly, tone. “Is Jason here?”

“No,” answered Cliff. “But I am.”

The girl rolled her eyes. She could feel Cliff’s eyes glued right to her titties. What a pig. She folded her arms across her chest. “Do you know when he’s going to be back?’ she asked. “I was supposed to meet him here today. We were going to go horseback riding.”

“Good luck,” Cliff snorted. “Jason is in Los Angeles. He’s doing an interview for some bass magazine.”

“He flounced off to Los Angeles and didn’t even have the courtesy to call me and let me know!” the girl shrieked. “What a dick!”

“You got that right,” said Cliff.

“I drove all the way from San Francisco just to be with him!” the girl ranted. “The traffic on the expressway was just insane, and it was all for nothing!”

“My Aunt is having a little get together,” said Cliff. “Brunhilda her housekeeper, made her world famous cheese ball. You should come in and have some. There’s a bunch of other shit to eat too.”

He held the door open like the consummate gentleman as Jason’s girl stepped inside. In the two days that Cliff had been at Aunt Josephine’s this had to be at least the seventh different chick he had seen of Jason’s. Now that they were commercialized darlings of heavy metal, the puss that Metallica was getting was shit loads better than the puss that they were banging back when Cliff was in the band. It wasn’t fair.

The girl immediately wandered her way into the living room where Brunhilda had set things up nicely for the Improvement Society ladies. She spread some cheese from the cheese ball on a cracker and stuffed it into her mouth.

“I love Jason,” she said with her mouth full. “I’m going to be Mrs. Newsted someday.”

Cliff bit his tongue You and about fifty other ladies, he thought. He felt sorry for her. He now knew what it was like to be cheated on, and it sucked ass. Instead he said

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Cheyenne,” the girl replied. “Jason’s girlfriend.” She fixed herself another cracker. “I adore anything Metallica,” she rambled on. “I listen to their CDs all day long. Their music is just so powerful. I’ve even met James, Lars, and Kirk too. James signed my bra once.”

“He signed mine too, said Cliff.

Cheyenne rolled her eyes at him. “I know everything there is to know about the band,” she boasted coyly.

“Oh yeah?” Cliff retorted, slightly amused.

“Have you ever seen Jason play his bass?” Cheyenne asked.

“Unfortunately yes,” replied Cliff.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Cheyenne breathed in between bites of cheese and cracker.

“His technique is getting kind of sloppy,” said Cliff thoughtfully.

Cheyenne ignored that comment and finished her cracker. She pointed at Geezer who was lying in the middle of the living room on the five thousand dollar Karastan rug happily gnawing away on his dried pig ear.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That’s my dog,” replied Cliff. “He’s not supposed to be in here right now, and neither am I.” He turned to Geezer and whistled. “Hey boy!” he called. “Get your ass over here!”

Cheyenne helped herself to another cheese and cracker. Brunhilda’s cheese ball was quickly disappearing. “It looks really nice in here,” she commented. “What kind of party is your Aunt throwing?”

“It’s not a party really,” answered Cliff as he grabbed Geezer by the collar. “It’s an Improvement Society meeting.”

“What the hell does the Improvement Society do?” asked Cheyenne.

“Now that’s a good question,” said Cliff. “I’m not exactly sure. They’re supposed to raise money and do good deeds and shit, but they never really do much of anything.”

Cheyenne nearly spat out her cracker. “I guess that I shouldn’t be eating all of their food,” she said.

“Nah,” Cliff replied. “I think it’s just an excuse for them to sit around to drink and gossip.” He turned to Geezer who was fighting, trying to get away from Cliff’s grasp so that he could go back to his pig ear. “Come on Geezer,” Cliff said. “Let’s go upstairs and call Cecily.”

“That’s got to be the ugliest dog that I’ve ever seen,” Cheyenne murmured as she watched the two disappear through the doorway. “That dog is so ugly he’s cute.”

Just then Brunhilda came into the room holding a plate of egg rolls. “Are you here for Jason?” she asked.

Cheyenne nodded.

“He had to go to Los Angeles for a couple days,” Brunhilda replied. She frowned at the half eaten cheese ball.

“That’s what I heard,” said Cheyenne. “I’m sorry that I ate most of your cheese ball. It’s really tasty.”

“Oh,” said Brunhilda blushing and smiling a little. “Why thank you. Take as much as you’d like.”

Cheyenne happily helped herself to some more. “Miss?” she asked. “Who was that gentleman who was just in here with his dog? He had really long hair.”

“That’s Cliff,” Brunhilda replied.

“Cliff?” Cheyenne repeated, the color draining from her face.

“Cliff Burton,” Brunhilda went on. “Josephine’s real nephew.”

“And Metallica’s ex bassist!” Cheyenne gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

“That’s correct,” nodded Brunhilda.

“He didn’t say anything about that,” mused Cheyenne.

“He’s humble,” Brunhilda said with a shrug as she frowned at the sight of Geezer’s half chewed dried pig ear lying in the middle of the expensive throw rug. “I told him not to leave these things around the house,” she declared. “They smell!”

“Can I have it?” Cheyenne asked as she sat down on the couch.

“I guess,” said Brunhilda. “But why on earth would you want such a mangy thing?” she asked. “Lord knows what diseases and germs that dog of his has.”

“Because,” Cheyenne replied as she caressed the dried pig ear as if the pope himself had blessed it. “Cliff Burton touched it…”












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Shayi
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“And I don’t just play bass,” he went on. “I create fine works of art.”


The last vestige of male pride there - wonderful line - I loved it! In fact I felt rather sorry for the poor chap having to put up with both his mother and Aunt getting somewhat on his case, especially about his less than laudable grammar! Heh. (Sounds like my mother used to be, she was rather hot on the old grammar malarky!)

And scary scary - it sounds like Cliff may have just got himself a stalker, and a rather feisty one at that. At least she's hot I suppose!

Sorry that this is rather a short reply here, but I have to dash rather quick sharpish. Suffice it to say - the story absolutely rocks as always, I really do absolutely adore it :) All these updates make me incredibly happy!
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Lucifer's Angel
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Hah, Cliff is being a naughty boy :) And yeah, I think he has a stalker, a hot one I might add :wink
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A vision of Mrs. Fitzgerald, as I see her in my head, in her robe and slippers, creeping with fireplace poker is surely amusing :lol:
But she's a bitch :angry Even if she had a little right with the wasting all the effort put in the Emily and Evan wedding thing, she totally loses for barking at Cecily <_< ... Poor Emily, she seems to be discouraged :( ....
And the Kirk part.... Totally, totally brilliant!!! :horns2

“I wish that I spoke French,” said Cecily. “If I played the violin and spoke French I bet that I could get laid twice in one night.” and then:
“I’ve always had expensive taste,” Kirk mused as he admired one of his many rings. “With everything from my clothes, guitars, Scotch, and unfortunately my women.” brilliant! :lol: :biggrin

And the last chapter... hahaha, Cliff's idea of sending Cecily's a care package to Fitzgerald's Manor was HILARIOUS :lol: :lol:
I love that Improvement Society meeting, sounds like fun :lol: as well as that girl Cheyenne :lol: :horns2
I can't wait for more!!! :heart:
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Verity
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Maggie- I'm tickled pink that you like horny Cecily and my dapper and debonair Kirk. You rock!

Shayi- Thanks for reading! I have a friend who picks on my grammar constantly so I can understand.

Vanessa- We'll hear some more from Cheyenne. I've decided that I kind of like the crazy, stalker, chick. She's different and fun to write.

I don't even remember what the fuck this chapter is about. :wacko:



Chapter Sixty-Seven



Meanwhile, back in England, it was evening and Cecily was sitting on the floor of her lavender bedroom at Emily’s house trying to figure out how to play something on her violin. Emily was in the room with her, working on some of her homework for her classes.

Cecily had no idea where to even begin with the violin. She yearned to be able to play at least something on it. Maybe she could really impress her Dad and he wouldn’t be mad at her anymore.

She ran the bow across the strings, only to produce an ear shattering screech.

“Fuck,” Cecily muttered as she scowled. Even Queen Victoria, who was sitting up on the bed, stuffed her head under the covers to shield her ears from the noise. “Daddy’s right!” cried Cecily. “I suck at piano, and I suck at violin!”

Emily looked up from her work. “Cecily,” she said. “You don’t suck. You haven’t had a lesson yet. You don’t even know how to hold the thing correctly.”

“Even the dog hates it,” said Cecily.

“Just wait until you have a lesson,” said Emily kindly. “A teacher will know how to get you started.”

“I hope so,” Cecily sighed. “I know that he said it was a pussy instrument, but if I learned how to play violin really well I just know that he’d be impressed with me.”

“Cecily, if you want to impress your Father all that you have to do is belch out Die, Die My Darling, by the Misfits,” Emily shot sardonically. “Or roll him one of your world class joints.”

“That’s not true,” Cecily groaned. “Why do you constantly have to make those kind of remarks about him?”

“I know that I shouldn’t,” Emily sighed. “Even though I have my issues with him, it’s not fair to you to have me badmouthing your Father in front of you. I’m sorry Cess.”

“Mom, I know that my Dad did some shit to you that he shouldn’t have,” said Cecily carefully. “He was really stupid to go off sleeping with strippers, and I blame him for what happened between you two. I know that he really hurt you.”

“He did,” said Emily, the hurt obviously still in her voice. “I devoted six years of my life to that man, and he couldn’t give me the same.”

“I’m sorry Mom,” answered Cecily. “I’m always going to hope and wish that maybe someday you two will get together again. I mean, I view you two as my parents, and what kid wouldn’t want their parents together?”

“I’m not going to go crawling back to your Father Cecily,” said Emily. “I’ve been burned by him too many times.”

“Well what if he came crawling back to you?” asked Cecily.

“I’m trying to finish my homework Cecily!” Emily returned. “Why don’t you take your violin and go run along.”

“Why won’t you answer my question?” Cecily whined. “If my Daddy came to you begging for forgiveness, would you take him back?”

Emily didn’t answer. Instead, she began to play with the eraser on her pencil.

Evan poked his head in the room. “Cecily,” he said. “Your Father is on the phone for you.”

“Again?” Emily gasped. “Can’t he leave us alone for five fucking minutes? What the hell could he possibly want?”

“To speak to me of course,” answered Cecily as she hurriedly laid her violin back in its case.

“For someone who is so concerned with his phone bill he sure calls here a lot,” Emily snapped.

“That’s because he’s staying with his Aunt Josephine,” said Cecily. “It’s on her phone bill.”

Cecily made her way downstairs to the phone. The last time she had talked with her Father, she had hung up on him because she felt that he was being a pompous toad. She wondered if he was still mad at her. “Daddy?” she said wearily into the phone.

“Hey Cess!” Cliff said, sounding rather cheerful. “How’s my girl?”

“I’m great,” said Cecily. “You’re not going to believe what I did with Mr. Kirk today.”

“Oh dear God Cecily!” said Cliff. “I’m not sure if I even want to know.”

“Daddy!” Cecily scolded. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Though I must say that Mr. Kirk is looking mighty handsome lately. At first I was thinking that Mr. Evan was much dreamier than Mr. Kirk, but after seeing Kirk today I think that he’s definitely handsomer.”

For once in his life, Cliff was actually happy to hear Cecily bumbling about Mr. Kirk. It was a hell of a lot better having her drool like a ninny over Kirk, than over Emily’s future husband.

“And just what did you and the handsome and dreamy Mr. Kirk do?” Cliff asked as he lit a cigarette.

“We helped Mom pick out her bridal gown,” said Cecily. “Kirk found the most gorgeous dress in a catalogue. It has to be ordered from Paris, but it’s the very latest style. And do you want to know what the best thing about it is?”

“It’s see through?” guessed Cliff.

Cecily sighed. Damn. Her Dad was hornier than a jack rabbit. “No Dad it’s not,” she replied. “It has a ten foot train!”

“Jesus,” Cliff murmured. “What the fuck does she need all that for?”

“Mom is going to look so breathtakingly beautiful on her wedding day, that Mr. Evan won’t know what to do with himself,” gushed Cecily.

For some reason, Cliff really didn’t want to talk about how beautiful Emily was going to look on her wedding day. “Wedding gowns are a waste of money,” he said finally. “All this fucking bullshit over a dress that you’re only going to wear once.”

“But Daddy,” said Cecily. “Aren’t you going to buy me a pretty wedding dress when I get married?”

Cliff nearly choked on his cigarette. She could hear him coughing and hacking at the other end of the line.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she said.

“You ain’t getting married until you’re at least fifty Cecily,” Cliff said firmly.

“Alright,” replied Cecily. “So when I’m fifty, and I go to marry Jackson, then will you buy me a wedding dress? I’ve always dreamed about having a father to walk me down the aisle and give me away, and now I finally have one. You’ll walk me down the aisle won’t you?”

“Of course I will Sweetheart,” said Cliff. “But not until you’re fifty. I enjoy having you around. I don’t want to give you away to some dude yet.”

“I don’t want to get married for a long time,” said Cecily much to Cliff’s relief. “I like being your little girl.”

“Oh yeah?” said Cliff. He took a long puff on his cigarette. “I miss you Cecily, really I do.”

“I miss you too,” said Cecily, happy that her Dad no longer seemed angry with her.

“I’ll tell you what,” Cliff said. “When you get back here I’ll help you find a violin instructor and I’ll pay for your lessons.”

“Are you sure Daddy?” Cecily asked. “Because Mr. Evan said that he didn’t mind.”

“Mr. Evan has done quite enough!” Cliff snapped. “He doesn’t need to pay for your violin lessons. I have plenty of money. What he needs to do is learn how to keep his nose out of other people’s business.”

Cecily hated how everyone seemed to be sniping at each other. She had a feeling that her Father and Evan would never get along. She liked both of them. She had started out her life as fatherless, but now she had two yet different but compassionate and caring dads. Why did she have to choose one over the other?

“The one who has to learn how to keep their nose out of other people’s business is Mrs. Fitzgerald,” quipped Cecily, trying to get the conversation off of Evan. “She drove Mom and Mr. Evan to elope.”

“What!” Cliff squawked. “What do you mean elope?”

“Well they didn’t,” replied Cecily. “But they tried to. They got caught. Oh Daddy it was so romantic! You should have seen it. They were just like Daphnis and Chloe. They were sneaking off into the night and-”

“That’s some bullshit Cecily!” Cliff roared cutting her off. He lit up another cigarette. “Emily would never elope.”

“She told me that you two almost eloped once,” shot Cecily.

“We were drunk and stoned,” spat Cliff. “We were being stupid.”

“I wish that you had,” sighed Cecily.

“No you don’t,” said Cliff. “Because we would have had it annulled the very next day.”

“Maybe not,” argued Cecily.

“Cecily, could we not argue?” Cliff asked. “I called because I miss you. I don’t want to talk about me and Emily. We’re over. She’s with Evan now.”

“What if she wasn’t?” Cecily asked. “Then would you feel differently?”

“Look Cess,” said Cliff. “I have to go now. I’m charging up Aunt Jo’s phone bill. She’s going to be all pissy with me.”

“You know damn well that Aunt Josephine doesn’t give a jack shit about how much the phone bill is!” declared Cecily.

“I love you Cess. Be a good girl, and behave your self,” Cliff said quickly, and then he hastily hung up the phone.

Cecily sighed as she took hung up the receiver. Neither Mom or Dad really answered my questions, she said to herself. I think it’s because they’re both still madly in love with each other. If only I could get them back together again. Everything would be perfect. I just know that they would be happy. All I have to do is somehow get Daddy over here to England before the wedding.

Cecily was jolted out of her thoughts back Evan, who strolled into the room holding Queen Victoria. “Hey Cecily,” he said sounded rather chipper. “I’m going to take Queen Victoria out for a walk while your mother finishes up her studies. Would you care to come with me? We could get some ice cream.”

Cecily nodded as she ran to get her shoes. She was immediately plagued with guilt. If by some God given miracle her Mom and Dad did get back together, just what would happen to Mr. Evan?


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Shayi
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Damn, tricky for Cecily to weigh up what to do there... It's a shame for her that Evan's just so nice! Still, at least it has now been decided that he is not dreamier than Kirk! (And I'm sure he's not a better shopper, nice chap though he is ;) )

“I’m great,” said Cecily. “You’re not going to believe what I did with Mr. Kirk today.”

“Oh dear God Cecily!” said Cliff. “I’m not sure if I even want to know.”

“Daddy!” Cecily scolded. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Though I must say that Mr. Kirk is looking mighty handsome lately. At first I was thinking that Mr. Evan was much dreamier than Mr. Kirk, but after seeing Kirk today I think that he’s definitely handsomer.”

That there segment made me laugh like a little loon. I could just imagine him saying that, after all, Cecily has always had a soft spot for Mr Kirk! Even better was when Cliff informed her that she wasn't getting married until she was fifty! Lordy that's a while to be waiting for her - if she ever wants to :)

I do like the fact that you've had both Cliff and Emily put into this together even though they are an ocean apart. It provides what at first seems like a strange contrast (because of the distance) but links so beautifully because of their echoed sentiments, even if they aren't voicing them. That ties it so well, and sets it up so excellently for Evan coming in as a counterpoint to it all. Beautifully crafted as always - I can't wait for more of this :)
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"And do you want to know what the best thing about it is?”

“It’s see through?” guessed Cliff." :lol:

Ooooh, Cecily had a most brilliant idea! yeah! Get Cliff to England :nanner: Will she do it??
And it doesn't surprise me that she feels guilty about Evan... he surely is a good guy...
I can't wait to see what will come up from this!!! :heart:
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Simone
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Aww that is sooooooo sweet!!!!! :nanner: Poor Cess is caught up in the middle between Evan with Emily and Emily with Cliff

I can't believe where this story is going! Emily eloping! I couldn't imagine that!
This story is like a spring day,right when the gold of light cracks through the jet black sky :D Ohh fuck,I think someone gave me week :wacko: :lol:

Hooray For Daughter Of The Year!!! :nanner:
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Lucifer's Angel
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Haha, Cliff was funny when he freaked out over Kirk, he's got to get his mind out of the gutter :lol: And yeah, maybe Cecily would be better at playing violin than piano, let's see :)
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Verity
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I am soooo grateful for ze comments. Here's some more for y'all's dining and dancing pleasure.

I was worried that Simone might think that there's not enough hot, dripping, raunchy, sex in this so in this chapter I tried to remedy that. :lol:




Chapter Sixty-Eight


Cheyenne was sitting on Aunt Josephine’s damask settee still clutching Geezer’s dried pig ear. She was in absolute awe over the fact that she had met Cliff Burton without even knowing it. Cheyenne was more than obsessed with anything Metallica. She even drove fifteen hours overnight to see them in concert once. At a backstage meet and greet, she had even fished one of Lars’s used condoms out of the garbage pail in their dressing room and kept it inside a little box in the massive Metallica shrine that she had built inside her bedroom.

She had gotten into them last year after the Black Album had debuted on MTV. She immediately fell in love with James when she heard him sing Nothing Else Matters. This sent her on a cross country goose chase following them around as they toured. Cheyenne worked taking care of old people at the local nursing home. She would work until she had saved up enough money to go follow Metallica around for a while during their tours. When she ran out of money, she would go back to work just long enough so that she could make more money, to buy more Metallica tickets and so forth.

Eventually the sprightly, devoted, groupie who resembled Miss Nascar, made the rounds through the band. She caught the eye of Jason Newsted, and became one of his all time favorite chicky-groupie-playmates.

Cheyenne didn’t know much about the prodigal Cliff Burton who had up and left the band during the making of the Black Album. All that she knew was that he recorded the first four albums with the band, and then launched his own successful career as a producer. He was the only member of the band that she had yet to score with. She had went to a Megadeth concert just so that she could see Dave Mustaine, and then she even had had a liaison with Ron McGovney, whom she had looked up in the phonebook, and then staked out at his house. For a Metallica obsessed young lady, sitting around with Cliff Burton’s aunt and mother was a dream come true!

Aunt Josephine came into room. “You’re another one of Jason’s little girlies aren’t you?” she rattled as she eyed Cheyenne up and down.

Cheyenne frowned. “What do you mean one of Jason’s girlies?” she snapped. “I’m the only Jason girly.”

“Ha!” Aunt Josephine laughed. “That man goes through women faster than a pack of dogs on a three legged cat.”

Cheyenne’s face fell, the absolute devastation was apparent. “But I love him!” she shouted, tears starting to prickle in her eyes.

“Oh yeah?” said Josephine. “Well love hurts.”

Cheyenne burst into full fledged tears.

“Oh Josephine you old sow’s cooter!” Mrs. Burton snapped at her sister. “You made the poor girl cry.” She felt sorry for the poor thing. She was just another dumb, harmless, groupie chick. It wasn’t her fault that Jason had a dick that was busier than a hacksaw.

“It’s not any fair,” Cheyenne sniffled. “I have no family. Metallica is my family. James Hetfield and his lovely voice saved my life! And then I fell completely in love with Jason. I was going to marry him!”

“Something tells me that Jason just isn’t a marrying man,” sighed Aunt Josephine. She watched as her sister sat down next to Cheyenne, and put her arm around her. Josephine too felt bad for the girl. “You’re more than welcome to stay for our Improvement Society meeting,” she offered.

To both of the ladies surprise Cheyenne nodded and agreed.

“I’d like to stay,” she warbled.

“Okay,” said Josephine. “But just let me remind you that we’re not real exciting. We sit around and discuss getting better toilet paper for the library.”

“Hey that’s important!” chimed Mrs. Burton.

“That’s okay,” sniffled Cheyenne. “I like helping people.”

“That’s very good and noble of you,” replied Mrs. Burton. “Now stop crying. You’re only smearing your makeup.”

“Thank you Mrs. Burton,” Cheyenne sighed as she gave the woman a giant hug, halfway crushing her.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and wash your face before the rest of the Improvement Society arrives,” suggested Aunt Josephine.

Cheyenne nodded and got up from the settee. She gave them an almost giddy wave, and then hurried out of the room.

She couldn’t believe Jason. The dirty, rotten, little rat! She had given him her heart and all that he had done was just rub shit all over it. But still, she couldn’t help but want to go into his bedroom and see what little trinkets she could find in there for her Metallica shrine. Even a used Kleenex, if it was Jason’s, she wanted it. However she found something much better than just a used Kleenex. She found Cliff Burton leaving his room, shutting the door behind him. Cheyenne planted herself right in the middle of the upstairs hallway. Fuck Jason! She was going to go after Cliff. He was the last one that she needed anyway so that she could proudly say that she had been with the entire band.

“Are you Cliff Burton?” she asked.

“Yes,” Cliff answered. “Now excuse me.” He tried to move past her, but Cheyenne would not move. She just stood there, staring at him.

“What?” demanded Cliff. “You shit your pants or something?”

Cheyenne fell to the floor at once and near prostrated herself in front of Cliff. “I’ve waited my entire life to meet you!” she gushed.

Cliff didn’t need anymore encouragement. “Get up!” he commanded to her.

“You’re God Mr. Burton,” Cheyenne breathed, still lying on the floor.

Cliff picked her up off of the floor and slung her over his back as if she were a dead deer carcass. He marched back to the Rose Room and deposited her on her back onto the bed. He didn’t care that she was Jason’s girl. Jason was trying to take away his aunt, so he’d just take away his chick. She had a lot nicer tits than Aunt Josephine did anyway. The fact that he had spent the past two nights alone also added to his randiness. He also didn’t give a shit that smelly, old, Geezer was lying right there in the bed as well, licking at a scaly patch of skin that was under his thigh.

Cliff immediately slithered on top of her and began to peel off the tight, skin clinging, Metallica T-shirt, revealing a black silky bra with little rhinestone M’s for Metallica on it. She also had a couple of small Metallica tattoos. She had lady justice on her left shoulder and a Metallica logo tramp stamp right above her ass crack.

Cliff immediately slid off the bra and examined it. “The merch people didn’t sell Metallica’s bras back when I was in the band,” he mused.

“They still don’t,” Cheyenne reported. “I made it myself. I bedazzled it.”

Cliff raised his eyebrows. “You bedazzle me,” he chuckled as he disposed the bra off to the side of the bed, and onto the floor. He immediately turned his attention to her happy, bubbly, titties. “Jesus!” he gasped.

“What Cliff?” asked a rather breathless Cheyenne.

“Your tits are hotter than those of most of the porn stars that I’ve been with,” Cliff breathed. “Jason don’t deserve a fox like you.”

“Make love to me Cliff!” Cheyenne breathed wetly into his ear, as she grabbed onto his hair and ran her fingers through it.

Cheyenne was expecting him to pull off her jeans and take her right then and there. Instead, Cliff sat up, pulling himself a way from her.

“Let me just get one thing straight with you,” he said firmly. “I make love to no one. I’m not a marrying man, and I’m set in my ways. Now, I’ll gladly fuck the shit out of you, but I won’t make love to you.”

“Well,” muttered Cheyenne. “At least you’re honest.”

“I’m very honest,” replied Cliff, ogling her half naked body like a little kid gazing at an ice cream truck. In the silence they could hear the cackles and giggles from the Improvement Society ladies float up from downstairs. If only they knew what was going down upstairs in the Rose Room.

“I’m all yours Cliff,” said Cheyenne submissively. She already liked him better than Jason, who had told her that he loved her even though he didn’t. Plus, Cliff smelled a bit like lemon verbena, and she always loved the smell of lemon verbena. “You can do whatever you want with me,” she added. “I’d do anything for an ex member of Metallica.”

Cliff was back on top of her in a heartbeat, as poor Geezer watched from the sidelines. “Very well then,” he breathed as he ripped off his shirt and began to yank off Cheyenne’s jeans. “Because I’m going to show you just what we mean by Metal Up Your Ass.”

***

A naked Cheyenne rolled over, yawned, and opened an eye. With a groggy brain she tried to remember just where in the hell she was. Oh yes! She had gone to Jason’s Aunt’s house to see Jason, only the bastard wasn’t there. The sleeping Cliff that lay beside her brought everything back to her. She had gotten with Cliff instead, meaning that she could proudly say that she had conquered the entire band. She and Cliff had fucked fast and furiously. He had told her that it had been three whole days since he had last been laid and damn was he hungry, practically devouring ever millimeter of her body. Afterwards they had both passed out for a few hours exhausted, after an afternoon of hot, explicit, sex.

She had to admit that she rather liked Cliff. Not only was he a decent lover, but he didn’t mind fucking in front of the dog, or with his aunt and mother right downstairs. The best thing about Cliff was that he was a producer. He probably didn’t get nearly as much puss as the other guys in Metallica got. Surely he didn’t go through women “faster than a pack of dogs on a three legged cat” like Jason did.

Cheyenne didn’t want to disturb the sleeping bassist but she couldn’t help but want a trinket from Cliff’s room for her shrine. She had all sorts of bells and baubles from the Tallica boys’ boudoirs. She had a cigarette lighter from Lars, and a slingshot from James, and a tube of eyeliner from Kirk. She quietly slipped out of the bed and threw her clothes back on. She spotted a desk over in the corner, and it looked as if Cliff had quite a bit of random personal junk sitting on top of it. Surely she could fine something to swipe from there that Cliff wouldn’t notice. There were three Ziploc baggies of weed, a pack of cigarettes, a broken ink pen, some surgical tape, and a short stack of rolling papers. Cheyenne reached for the broken ink pen, figuring that Cliff probably valued the weed and cigarettes much more than a broken pen. She then noticed something that caught her eye. It looked to be a letter of some sort. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Cliff was still asleep. He and his dog were both sacked out under the covers. Cheyenne plopped down at the desk chair and picked up the letter which only seemed to be half finished. It read

My Dearest Cecily,

I miss you more than anything. I hope that you’re having a fun time in England with Emily, but still I can’t help but miss you. It’s so much quieter around here without you, and I think that Geezer misses you too. I can’t wait to have my little Cecily back to take care of me. I know that our time at White Rock together was kind of shitty. Actually, it sucked ass. When you get back we’ll both have a couple of weeks in August to spend together before we both go back to school. Maybe we could go back to White Rock for a weekend just you and me, we’ll leave James at home.


That was all that was written. Cheyenne immediately got a sinking feeling in the very pit of her stomach. She had been wrong, very wrong. She had thought that an intelligent and respected producer wouldn’t pull this kind of shit, but obviously he was just like all the others. He was no different from Jason. He obviously had a significant other that he claimed to “miss more than anything” yet he had just banged her while she was off in England. Cheyenne wondered just what “dearest Cecily” would think if she knew what Cliff had been up to. Granted, Cliff did tell Cheyenne that what they were engaging in was just pure fucking, but still, didn’t anyone in the Metallica camp have one shred of decency? How come none of them loved her? Wasn’t she pretty enough and good enough in the sack? She adored them, she worshipped them, and they were her only family.

She heard a stir come from the bed. She quickly dropped the letter and turned around to see Cliff sitting up, stretching, and yawning.

“Hey there,” he said cheerfully when he noticed her. “Damn girl, you near wore me out.”

Cheyenne just sat there with a frosty look on her face.

“What?” Cliff asked as he cocked his head. “Oh come on. Jason Newsted can’t be that much better between the sheets than me,”

“Do you guys think that it’s fun to screw other women behind their backs?” demanded Cheyenne.

Cliff’s pot laden and oversexed circuited brain tried to process this information. “Huh?” he groaned.

“You know what I mean!” Cheyenne spat.

“Cheyenne,” said Cliff. “I’m not screwing anybody behind anyone’s back. I’m free and single. If anything, you’re the one who’s screwing behind Jason’s back!”

“Oh yeah?” retorted Cheyenne. “Who’s Cecily?”

“Cecily?” Cliff repeated.

“My Dearest Cecily,” Cheyenne read. “I miss you more than anything.”

An amused smile appeared on Cliff’s face. He shook his head as he grabbed his cigarettes from the bedside table, shoved one into his mouth, and lit it. “You go through Jason’s mail too?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” Cheyenne admitted. She made her way back over to the bed. Damn, that cigarette looked good. Cliff noticed her eyeing the cigarette.

“Want one?” he offered.

Cheyenne nodded, happy to be taking a cigarette from the Cliff Burton. She took an extra one as well and stuffed it into her pocket. It would go rather nicely in her shrine, if she didn’t smoke it first. Cliff lit her cigarette for her.

“So is Cecily your wife?” Cheyenne asked. She eyed his hands. “You’re not wearing any wedding ring.”

“She’s not my wife,” answered Cliff as he tried to impress Cheyenne by blowing a smoke ring into the air, but it divulged into a weak cloud of smoke instead.

“She’s your girlfriend,” said Cheyenne.

“Nope,” said Cliff. “She ain’t my girlfriend either.”

Cheyenne frowned. “I know everything there is to know about Metallica,” she barked. “But I don’t know who Cecily is. If she’s not your wife or girlfriend, who is she? An overly cherished fuck buddy?”

“I don’t write letters to my fuck buddies,” replied Cliff. He flicked the ashes off of the end of his cigarette into the ashtray that he had sitting on his pillow. “If you must know,” he went on. “Cecily is my daughter.”

“Daughter?” repeated Cheyenne, near dropping her cigarette.

“You’d be much happier going back to Jason,” said Cliff. “He doesn’t have a daughter, at least not one that he knows about.”

“How old is she?” asked Cheyenne.

“Twelve,” Cliff answered.

Cheyenne was quite surprised. It was surprising enough to find out that one of her precious Metallica boys had a child, but it was very surprising to find out that she was so old. She had been expecting Cecily to be maybe four or five, but twelve? Cliff had to be around thirty or so. She knew all of the other boys’ ages, birthdays, and even their times of birth. It was quite shocking to her.

“I didn’t know about her,” Cheyenne mumbled.

“I like to keep her away from all the riffraff of heavy metal,” Cliff replied with a shrug as he put out his cigarette.

“Why is she in England?” Cheyenne asked.

“She’s visiting her friend,” Cliff said awkwardly. “Actually, her mom is getting married.”

“Oh,” was all that Cheyenne could say.

Cliff got up out of the bed and started to throw his clothes back on. “Where you going?” asked Cheyenne.

“Out,” Cliff answered shortly.

“Where?” Cheyenne asked again.

“Why do you care?” Cliff asked as he sat down at the edge of the bed to put on his shoes.
“I have a kid. You don’t want me.”

“But you were in Metallica,” Cheyenne returned, caressing the word “Metallica.”

“Look Cheyenne I’m not an idiot,” snapped Cliff. “If you want to take up with a member of Metallica who’s into going out on the prowl and hankering down with the nightlife, I suggest that you take up with Jason or Lars. I don’t live the glamorous rock and roll lifestyle. That’s not for me. I enjoy kicking back with my daughter, and my dog, and my pot.”

And with that he left the room leaving a thoughtful Cheyenne sitting on the bed with a very smelly Geezer…
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