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Daughter of the Year; Ze Sequel to Father of the Year
Topic Started: December 14, 2007, 12:15 am (11,161 Views)
Simone
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Mistress of Puppets
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awwwwww :heart:

This was such a sweet chapter! I wish Emily would come back :( damn...Clarisse-puss is such a bitch...I could even imagine how Cecily is feeling if I had my mom dating a 19-year-old that's 4 years older than me :blink: dayum...

Are you sure you're not going to make a second career in writing novels? :biggrin
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Battery
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Some Kind Of Monster
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I'm so happy Emily will pop up :nanner: I'll be patiently looking forward to that :biggrin .
I loved the scenes between Cliff and Cecily, they are a really perfect father and daughter :) I loved their waffles and horrors ritual :lol: I hope Cliff will keep his promise... :wacko:
And yay! for Geezer :D Kitchen is surely much better place than outside with rain and all :) .
Awesome! :heart:

And Simone asked a very good question^ :D
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Lucifer's Angel
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Yeah, Cliff is a great father for Cecily, too bad that bitch has to fuck things up :angry And yeah, that ritual sounds funny as hell, very Cliff :lol:
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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I am glad that you ladies agree that Geezer should sleep inside. :)
Anyway, the next two chapters is more shit with Clarisse. I have to make sure that y'all hate her.



Chapter Six

“I need a ten letter word for a type of dance that begins with a C,” Cliff announced the next morning.

“The Charleston is a dance,” Cecily replied as she shoved pieces of toast into the toaster.

“Damn kid!” Cliff squealed as he hastily penciled it in. “You’re smart.”

He, Cecily, and Geezer were in the kitchen. He was supposed to be helping Cecily make breakfast, but working on the daily newspaper crossword puzzle was much more fun. An unlit cigarette dangled out of his mouth. It was better than nothing. The sun streamed in through the kitchen windows. There were two up around the kitchen sink, and a huge picture window in front of the kitchen table with an extraordinary view.

“Do I have to go to school today?” Cecily asked as she took out a can of dog food for Geezer.

“Do the Misfits kick ass?” Cliff returned, not looking up from his crossword puzzle.

“Ugh,” Cecily grunted as she scooped dog food out of the can and into Geezer’s dish. “I really don’t want to go today. We have all of these final tests coming up, so all that we do is just review everything. It’s so boring. Why can’t I just study for the tests at home?”

“Because you’d just waltz around pretending that you were the Lady of Shalott instead,” Cliff replied. “Is the coffee done yet?”

Cecily went over to the coffee maker and poured Cliff a cup of coffee just the way that he liked it: pure black with nothing in it. It was also the way that she had learned to drink it, though whenever she went over to her grandparents’ house her Grandfather always would put a shot of Bailey’s Irish cream in it for her.

“I’m not nearly pretty enough to be or even pretend to be The Lady of Shalott,” Cecily sighed dramatically as she brought the coffee over to her Dad, and sat down next to him.

“Oh please Cecily,” Cliff muttered. “You’re not going to start that shit again.”

“Well it’s true,” said Cecily matter-of-factly. She took a sip of her coffee. “Plus, I’m not fair haired. Tennyson would certainly not approve.”

“Well then I’ll just have to go kick his ass,” Cliff replied, slightly amused.

“Good morning,” Clarisse said cheerfully as she entered the kitchen. She was dressed in a pair of stark white shorts that were extremely short. They were the kind that hung down around her hips, so that if she bent over her ass crack would show. Her cheerfulness vanished immediately at the sight of Geezer lying on the kitchen floor.

“What’s he doing in here?” she asked sourly.

“Chill out Clarisse,” said Cliff as he got up to give her a good morning hug. “It was raining last night so I brought him in. It’s nice out right now, so he can go back outside.” Cliff ushered the dog outside, then he turned around and gave Clarisse a kiss. She kissed back. It lasted for one, two, three, four, five, six seconds. Cecily tried not to hurl into her coffee at the sight of her Dad making out with some nineteen-year-old right in front of her.

“There’s a child present!” Cecily announced.

Cliff and Clarisse broke away from each other.

“Oh come on Cess,” Cliff laughed. “Weren’t you just the other day boasting that you had seen Lars’s dic-”

“That’s gross Daddy!” Cecily shrieked as she took a sip of coffee. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Well that’s kind of hard for me to do,” Cliff replied as he grabbed Clarisse’s ass becoming hornier than an alley cat from Texas at the sight of her in those tight, white, shorts. “After all,” he continued on as Clarisse whacked his hand away. “My mind lives in the gutter.”

“Believe me, I know,” said Cecily as she poured herself another cup of coffee.

Clarisse frowned. “Is she drinking coffee?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Cliff nodded as if it were commonplace for near twelve-year-olds to drink black coffee every morning.

“She shouldn’t be,” Clarisse said. “It’s not good for her.”

“Yeah, well they’re a lot of things in life that aren’t good for you,” Cliff replied. “But we’re all just going to die anyway.”

“I can’t believe you let her drink coffee!” Clarisse exclaimed. “She’s a child!”

“Dude!” Cliff retorted. “Chill out. It’s not like I’m giving her Jack Daniels. She’s almost twelve fucking years old. By twelve, my parents were letting me drink at home.”

“Oh Daddy can I too?” Cecily asked, her eyes shining. “Please? Could we get some hard lemonade?”

“Jesus fuck Cecily!” Cliff exclaimed. “Number one, no, you can’t drink when you turn twelve. Number two, even if I were allowing you to drink, I would rather have you drink fermented goat piss than some cheap, pussy, carbonated, bullshit such as hard lemonade. That shit will never ever, ever, ever enter through the doors of this house.”

“Gee I’m surprised Cliff,” Clarisse shot. “After all, you let her drink coffee.”

“There’s a difference,” said Cliff. “And I can’t fry myself out of my mind every night getting stoned, without at least letting the kid have coffee. I’d be a hypocrite.”

Clarisse glared at Cecily. “She’s already short and scrawny enough as it is,” she pointed out. “Caffeine stunts growth.”

“Badass!” said Cliff as he gave Cecily a wink. “Then at Casa Lavida where kids under twelve eat free, I can still sneak her in without paying.” He gave Clarisse a quick kiss. “I have to be at the studio for most of today,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take Geezer with me, and Cecily will be at school. Will you be alright here alone?”

Clarisse sighed. “I guess,” she replied. She pouted. She had been planning on spending all this time with Cliff since they now lived together. After all, when he had come out to Los Angeles to see her it was usually when he was on a little break. She was used to him spending his entire days and nights with her, not spending it at a recording studio all day, and dinking around with his demanding, bratty, daughter.

“Must you be at the recording studio all day?” she asked.

Cliff nodded. “Gastropod is hot right now,” he said. “We really need to get this new video out.”

“Fine,” Clarisse muttered, clearly unhappy. She started to unpack a couple of her things. On the kitchen table sat a pitcher stuffed with wildflowers that Cecily had picked for Cliff’s return home. Clarisse personally thought that they were ugly, and needed to go. She would not have the kid cluttering up her home. She grabbed the flowers and dropped them into the trash.

“Maybe we could do something together this weekend?” Clarisse tried. “Perhaps we could take a weekend long sailing trip.” She looked over at Cecily, who was on to her third cup of coffee. “Wouldn’t that be fun Clifford?” she asked. “You know, with just you and me. Cecily could stay with your aunt.”

“Not this weekend she’s not,” said Cliff. “I just returned from my tour three days ago. She’s been with Aunt Josephine for two fucking months. And, I promised Cess that we’d have a waffle and horror movie fest one night this weekend.”

“Waffle and horror fest?” Clarisse repeated as she took a sculpture out of the box that she was unpacking.

“Its great fun,” said Cecily. “Daddy, can we rent Nail Gun Massacre?”

“We can rent whatever you want Sweetie,” replied Cliff. He turned back to Clarisse. “Don’t worry Doll Face,” he said as he thrust himself upon her, backing her into the kitchen table. “They’ll be plenty of time just for us. I’m going to make damn sure of it, or else my balls will fall off.”

The two shared another kiss.

This is gross, thought Cecily. She glanced at the ugly-ass sculpture that Clarisse had set out on the kitchen table. She picked it up and examined it.

“Hey!” she said, once again causing Cliff and Clarisse to pull out of their kiss. “What the fuck is this fucking thing supposed to be? It looks like a whale fetus.”

“Put that down!” Clarisse demanded as she pulled the sculpture out of Cecily’s hands. “If you must know, it’s a piece of art. You should know that. I thought that you wanted to be an artist.”

“Yeah, but I at least attempt to create something pleasant to look at,” said Cecily. “That thing is one of the ugliest fucking things that I’ve ever seen. I hope you didn’t pay much for it.”

“Your mouth is horrendous young lady!” Clarisse yelled. “Clifford!” she screeched. “Her language is atrocious!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Cliff asked. He had gone back to his crossword puzzle.

“She talks like she was raised in the brickyard,” said Clarisse. “You’re cool with this foul mouth of hers?”

Cliff looked at Clarisse as if she were nuts. “It ain’t hurting anybody,” he replied. “Fuck. As long as she ain’t out killing things, or getting herself knocked up I don’t care.”

“And now I see where she gets it,” Clarisse quipped. She turned to Cecily. “I don’t care what your Father says. You will clean up that mouth of yours.”

“Daddy says that as long as I don’t use foul language at school, or around my friends’ parents, he doesn’t mind if I use it at home,” said Cecily.

“Well it makes me uncomfortable,” shot Clarisse. “It’s not right for a child to talk like a truck driver.”

“Daddy!” Cecily whined.

Cliff finally looked up from his fucking crossword puzzle. When he had first met Cecily, she had quickly picked up a few of his colorful vocabulary words. Cliff used to scold her until she was about eight. Then he pretty much realized it was just a lost cause. After all, between him, his parents, Aunt Josephine, and the Metallica boys, the kid lived in an ocean of profanity.

He looked from Cecily to Clarisse, who was starting to cry, tears dancing down her face. He sighed. “Cecily, do what Clarisse says,” he said finally.

“But she’s not my Mom!” Cecily snapped.

“No, but I’m your Father and I so,” Cliff returned. “Watch the language around Clarisse.”

“Miss Emily never minded that I cursed,” said Cecily.

“I’m not Miss Emily!” Clarisse retorted.

“You sure got that right,” Cecily shot.

Cliff put away his crossword puzzle. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to finish it that morning. “Cecily!” he said sternly. “You will watch your mouth, and you will quit mentioning Emily around Clarisse. I don’t want to hear one little peep about that woman ever again. You understand me?”

“But Dad!” Cecily ranted, the caffeine causing her to yak at a mile a minute. “That’s not fair! Why are you trying to erase Miss Emily from my life? You’ve gotten rid of every picture that we’ve had of her, Clarisse wants to get rid of her things, and now I can’t even mention her!”

“Cecily Virginia!” Cliff screeched. “I have had enough out of you for one day. Shut the fuck up and get your shit ready for school!”

“Daddy,” Cecily whined as she pouted.

“That pout ain’t going to work on me,” Cliff said as he flipped her off, and shuffled to the other room to get his bass and shit for the recording studio. He also needed to take a quick hit from a joint. Between Cecily trying to piss off Clarisse, and Clarisse whining about his parenting skills, he had had enough of the both of them. A day hanging around with Gastropod, four drunk, stoned, and insanely immature twenty-three year olds, seemed like a breath of fresh air.

Cliff went back into his bedroom, shut the door, and lit a joint. For the first time ever, Cecily was left alone with Clarisse…
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Lucifer's Angel
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By the Gods, I hate that woman :angry Cliff better stop thinking with his dick, and realize she's only going to hurt him and Cecily :(
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MissMetallica;;
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uh ohh, cecily being alone with clarisse isnt going to work out too well... fuckkk i already hate the bitch, immensly...
cecily needs to expose clarrise's bitch side to cliff before its too late!

great story!! :D
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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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Ayyeeee! You have no idea just how stoked I am to see a sequel to that story - and it's looking already like it's fit to be full of fun and disaster :) Awesome. Fully reeks of awesome.

And even the dog thinks that Cess is smoking weed. That made me laugh like a drain :)

Clarisse - well she is a grade A bitch really isn't she - and I'm looking forward to seeing how things work out between her and Cecily in the next chapter - left alone together as they are. Although what the hell Cliff is doing with her I can't imagine - honestly! Just for a set of nice tits and a pert ass...

And I'd love to know what has happened between Emily and Cliff - I have a feeling that we'll be seeing more from Emily before this is all over.

And Geezer. Good lord he sounds foul and yet still strangely loveable...

Cecily and her obsession with Lady of Shalott - I remember that poem oh so well! My mum insisted on reading it to me at the tea table after school at random... heh!

After all, between him, his parents, Aunt Josephine, and the Metallica boys, the kid lived in an ocean of profanity.
^^ Oh what an awesome, fantastic description. I absolutely love that - ocean of profanity. I now have an overwhelming desire to somehow use that in day to day life...

Again, I am so so glad that this sequel is coming together - I can't wait for the next bit!
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Battery
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Some Kind Of Monster
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“Hey!” she said, once again causing Cliff and Clarisse to pull out of their kiss. “What the fuck is this fucking thing supposed to be? It looks like a whale fetus.” I love that kid :lol: :lol:
Uh oh.... Cecily alone with Clarisse bitch .... Sounds brutal.
This is awesome!! :heart:
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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More bullshit with Cecily and Clarisse. I promise it starts to get much better after this chapter. I just have to make sure that everybody hates her.
Thank you all for reading. You all are very kind.


Chapter Seven

For once Clarisse didn’t have Cliff breathing down her back. She was the elder, and she could do whatever she wanted to with Cecily. Clarisse loved Cliff, and thought that he was good at many things, but she did not think that he was a very good parent. Actually, she thought that he was a downright shitty parent. Cecily had one hell of an attitude problem, all the more reason for the brat to go back and live with her real mother.

Cecily was quiet, obviously not liking being told to shut up by her Father. Clarisse watched as she primly sat at the table drinking her coffee. She thought that Cecily looked absolutely ridiculous in her pair of jeans, white long sleeved T-shirt, and hideous black crochet vest. A most ugly black newsboy cap sat upon her head. She also wore large hoop earrings. Clarisse hated to break it to Cecily, but large hoop earrings had gone out five years ago. Cecily’s fashion sense was as bad as her Father’s.

She reached over and snatched away Cecily’s coffee cup.

“Hey!” Cecily squawked. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t care what your precious Daddy says!” Clarisse snarled. “I think that it’s ridiculous for a kid to be drinking coffee. Like it or not, things are going to be changing around here. No more coffee for one thing. And you can put a cork in that mouth of yours. Your Dad needs to be warming your ass, not letting you chatter away like a trucker at a truck stop. He’s not a very good parent if you ask me.”

“I have the best Dad in the entire world!” Cecily said loyally. And she meant it, even if he did have a thing for younger chicks.

“Humph!” Clarisse snorted. “The only thing that your Father is good for is playing music, and making lots of money. Other than that he’s just a pot head with really, really, terrible, taste in clothes. Fortunately, his bank account overrides his horrible parenting and fashion skills.”

“How dare you say that about my Father?” Cecily demanded. “You know, he really loves you. You don’t even deserve him.”

“Oh honestly Cecily,” Clarisse replied as she tossed her hair. “It’s not like that your Dad is some prize. He has money yes, but he also has a revolting dog, and a rather annoying brat for a daughter.”

“Well good then,” returned Cecily. “Since you don’t think he’s any real prize, you won’t be too hurt when he casts you aside for next week’s lady.”

“Next week’s lady?” Clarisse asked.

“Oh yes,” replied Cecily. “Daddy’s constantly changing girls and it gets even worse when he’s on tour. He’ll tire of you in a week or so, and then he’ll find someone new. I’m used to it.”

Clarisse was not going to let herself be bullied around by some little brat. She decided to hit the kid where it hurt.

“Cecily,” Clarisse said sweetly. “Where’s your real mother?”

“Miss Emily is my real mother,” answered Cecily. “She’s in London, but she’ll be back, you just wait and see.”

“No Cecily,” said Clarisse. “I mean your real biological mother.”

The color immediately drained from Cecily’s face. “I’m not, I’m not sure,” she blurted out.

“What?” Clarisse said saccharinely. “How could you not know where you mother is? Doesn’t she at least write to you?”

Cecily had yet to receive a letter or anything from her mother. She had left Cecily nearly six and half years ago without even saying goodbye. Fucking James out in the hot tub had been more important. She never wrote, and Cecily had no idea where she even lived nowadays. A once a year signed birthday card was all that she ever got from her mother, and even with that Cecily had grown suspicious. After all, the return address on them was always ambiguous, and if her Mom had gone back to Denmark why was she sending birthday cards printed in English, and that had been postmarked from the United States? Cecily was a hundred percent certain that Cliff or Emily had been buying and sending the cards. She wasn’t an idiot. But she hadn’t confronted them about it.

She looked away from Clarisse, avoiding her prying eyes. Clarisse could tell that she had hit Cecily hard, and it felt good.

“Oh come on,” Clarisse went on. “You must hear from her sometimes.”

“I don’t,” said Cecily bitterly. “She’s dead to me.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Clarisse. “You’re such a creep that it’s no wonder she left you. And Cliff will leave you too once he finds out what a manipulative little brat you are. He’ll send you away, and he’ll enjoy his life a lot more once he doesn’t have some kid leeching off of him.”

“I’m not the one leeching off of him,” Cecily sneered. “You are! You’re nothing but a frigid, gold digging, bitch and I hate you!”

“I would say that since Cliff is going to be marrying me, that you should just get used to the fact that I’m going to be around,” Clarisse said flippantly. “But since we’ll be most likely sending you away, I guess that you won’t need to be getting used to me.”

“Sending me away?” Cecily asked.

“Oh yes,” Clarisse nodded. “Wouldn’t you like to go away like to a boarding school?”

“Fuck no,” retorted Cecily. “Back when we thought that Lars was my Dad, he was going to send me away to school. Cliff said that he would never send me to one of those places.”

“You will quit swearing around me!” Clarisse yelled.

“Make me!” Cecily taunted.

Clarisse raised her hand. She was about to smack the girl right across the face. Cecily was actually hoping that she would, if Clarisse hit her than Cliff would get rid of her for sure.

“You ready to get your ass to school Princess?” Cliff asked as he staggered into the room with his bass in one hand, and Geezer on a leash in the other. He was slightly stoned, Cecily could even see it in his eyes, and he only used the Princess nickname when stoned. He was wearing the inane cowboy hat again with this God awful tan suede blazer that had long fringe hanging from the sleeves and back. He had bought it from real Ojibwa Indians while on tour through New Mexico.

Clarisse’s hand dropped immediately, and fell behind her back.

“It’s a shame that she has to go,” Clarisse said saccharinely. “Cecily and I were just having a pleasant little talk.”

Cliff brightened a bit. “I hope that you girls are getting to know each other,” he said in slow, stoned, speech.

“Oh yes Daddy,” said Cecily. “I was just starting to see Miss Clarisse’s true colors.”

“They’re even better when stoned,” said Cliff as he ogled Clarisse’s breasts which were sticking up like church steeples from underneath the tight, low cut, red shirt that she was wearing.

“Hurry up in the recording studio Sweetie and come home to me,” Clarisse said seductively. Cliff pulled her close, and they started having another fucking make out session.

“Come on Daddy!” Cecily called. “I’m going to be late for school.”

“Oh fuck off Princess,” Cliff moaned through kisses. “You’ve never been anxious to get your ass to school.”

“You could just stay here for the day Clifford,” Clarisse moaned as she went to unzip his pants.

“I can’t Doll Face,” Cliff said as he pulled away from her, and zipped his pants back up. “We’ll continue this when I get home, I promise.” He grabbed his bass and dog and turned to Cecily. “Come on Cess. Let’s rock.”

“Doll Face?” Cecily repeated as she followed him out to the car. “That’s almost as bad as Pussy Cat.”

“Pussy Cat?” said Clarisse.

“Dad’s pet name for Miss Emily,” said Cecily.

“Cecily!” an agitated Cliff squealed. “Stop with the Emily bullshit. Let’s go.”

The two were silent again in the car. Cecily was rather annoyed. This was not how it was supposed to be when her father returned home from tour. They had always been close, but now she felt that their once wonderful relationship was strained. Cliff could sense it too. He was quiet, and he was stoned before noon. Since adopting Cecily, Cliff had cleaned up his act a great deal. He no longer got stoned before four in the afternoon and no booze until after one, except on Sundays. Sundays he could drink at noon.

They stopped at a traffic light and Cat Scratch Fever came onto the radio. Cliff turned it up. “Who’s this Cecily?” he asked.

Cecily sighed. “It’s my Uncle Ted,” she replied.

“That’s my girl,” Cliff returned. He reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’re always going to be my little girl,” he said. “But Miss Clarisse makes me awfully happy and she’s really smoking hot. Could you please try and be civil to her?”

“I am being civil,” replied Cecily.

“You’re doing a piss poor job of it,” replied Cliff. “You’re going to have to do better. She doesn’t like your dirty mouth, so cut the foul language, which wouldn’t be a bad idea for you anyway. I know that I’ve been lenient with you in that department, but Clarisse doesn’t like it. You can swear all that you want around me, but not around her. And most of all, stop mentioning Emily. I know that you’ve got a cork up your ass because I got rid of the pictures, and some of Emily’s shit, but you’ve got to look at it through Clarisse’s eyes. I want her to feel welcome in our home. She’s not going to feel welcome if I have some other chick’s picture around.”

Cecily just looked out the window. She didn’t like Emily being referred to as “some other chick.”

“She’s not my mother,” Cecily quipped. “I will never think of Clarisse as my mom.”

“Cess,” Cliff said thoughtfully as he pulled up in front of the school. He took a deep breath, the pot that he had smoked earlier giving him the courage to go on. “If I marry Clarisse, she’s going to be your step mom.”

“You wouldn’t do that Daddy,” replied Cecily as she got out of the car. “Don’t you want to marry a woman with a brain?”

“The boobies are far more important than the brains Cess,” Cliff replied. Cecily scowled.

“You want to know what else is important?” asked Cecily.

“What?” Cliff chortled.

“Lose the stupid suede jacket with the fringe,” she returned.

Cliff looked at the fringed sleeve of his jacket. “What the fuck?” he replied. “I bought this from real Ojibwa Indians!”

“Yeah, well they ripped you off,” said Cecily.

This time it was Cliff who flipped Cecily off. “Fuck you!” he snarled as he sped away leaving her in a cloud of dust.

Cecily shook her head. “Where did he get such an attitude?”
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Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Oh dear, Cliff, stop thinking with your dick :( Clarisse is terrible for him, Cecily is right, he should get a girl with a brain :(
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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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Well don't worry - I hated her before. Now I REALLY cannot stand the bitch! Still - I'm hoping for her getting her comeuppance before toooo long. Surely Cliff (if he can stay sober, stop getting stoned/looking at her tits/looking at her ass) will be able to see that she is in fact one class 1, grade A bitch-whore from hell. *G* Well, something like that anyhoo!

And it's really rather amusing, I think that Clarisse and Claudia would get on oh so very well if they ever met.

As to Cecily - I loved the finishing line of the chapter 'where did he get such an attitude' awesome. Perfect comic timing there - absolutely perfect.

It's going to be interesting to see what happens next - and when Emily will fit into it - because surely, Cess will write to her, or call her or some such jazz... or at least I hope so. Eh I'm going to stop guessing now - the story will unfold as it unfolds.

I can tell already that this ones going to turn into another absolutely superb story - there are just so many different directions it can take - and so many other characters that can be brought into play. I also forgot to mention before, that I love the small details that you've brought into this, such as Cliff ripping off the waffle toaster from Mrs Hammett and that kind of thing. Once again it just brings it all so much to life! Fantastic :)
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Here's some more for you. Thanks so much for reading. I have twenty two chapters of this shit written so the updates can come fast. This is shaping up to be another long one.

Shayi- You're very good at guessing. Emily will pop up soon.

Vanessa- I know you don't like Clarisse either. I'm beginning to regret all the CL names in this story. I have caught myself typing Claudia in place of Clarisse several times. :lol:


Chapter Eight

For once, Clarisse actually did something useful, or at least Cecily thought that it was useful. It happened that afternoon after Barnabas, her Great Aunt Josephine’s driver had dropped her off at home from school. Cecily had a little bit of time before she had to start studying for those God awful and much loathed final exams for school. She decided that she would spend that time out on the spacious back deck with her sketchbook working on her own sketch of The Lady of Shalott. She adored Waterhouse’s 1888 painting, and longed to create one half as beautiful. She loved everything about it, right down to the detail on the Lady’s tapestries that hung out of the side of her boat. What she loved the most about it was the expression on the Lady’s face as she tragically sailed away to her death.

Cecily grabbed her sketchbook, favorite set of pencils, and the small postcard that she had of her favorite Lady of Shalott picture. She ran right into Cliff in the hallway.

“There you are,” he said. “How was school today?”

“Boring as all fuck,” replied Cecily.

“Well, I have another boring-as-all-fuck activity for you. You haven’t practiced piano once since I’ve been back,” Cliff pointed out.

“No,” admitted Cecily. “But I practiced a ton while you were away.”

Cliff looked skeptical. “Something tells me that wasn’t the case,” he replied. “You know my rule Cecily. You have to practice at least an hour of piano everyday, or else I’m never going to let you take bass lessons. Now go in the living room and practice your piano for an hour.”

“But Daddy,” Cecily argued. “I was going to go work on a Lady of Shalott picture.”

“You can draw Lady of Shalott pictures to your heart’s content after you practice piano,” said Cliff. “Why don’t you draw one of The Lady of Shalott without her clothes on? I’d like that.”

“Very funny,” Cecily muttered as she watched her Dad shuffle off to his practice room sanctuary to go teach another bass lesson. She sighed. She had no choice but to spend the next hour playing the banal piano.

Cecily had no desire in the least to learn piano, but it was Cliff’s rule. He wouldn’t give her bass lessons on a regular basis unless she took two years of classical piano first. She thought that it was an awfully stupid rule, but Cliff insisted.

“You will play classical piano and read sheet music before you even touch a bass,” he had preached. “A daughter of mine can read a piece of sheet music like nobody’s business.”

“But Dad,” Cecily had said. “You add to and do stuff that’s not in the sheet music all of the time.”

“Aye,” Cliff nodded. “But you must know the rules of music before you can break them.”

So Cecily had been sentenced to learning piano, and taking a once a week lesson with some old Russian dude whom she couldn’t understand half of the time.

Cecily, uninspired, plopped down at the piano. She started out by doing obnoxious and poorly done scales for ten minutes before slowly, and banally, pecking her way through Bach’s Minuet in G. Every time that she made a mistake was accompanied by a “fuck” or a “shit.”

Now here is where Clarisse actually came in helpful.

She was busy unpacking more of her ugly shit all over the place. She had gone a little overboard, and was even taking down some of Cliff’s stuff along with Emily’s. Cliff did have rather poor taste. A framed picture of him with Glen Danzig just did not belong hanging up in the living room, at least in Clarisse’s opinion it didn’t. He also had all of this butt ugly Native American art and shit around. Around the age of twenty-eight, Cliff started having a random fascination with the Native American people. Since then, he was an avid collector of their art, leatherwork, and pottery. Another thing about Cliff that Clarisse just couldn’t stand.

She was also sick and tired of listening to Cliff’s brat play that same fucking song over and over again on the piano. It wouldn’t be so bad except for the fact that Cecily kept repeating the same four measures over and over. Finally, after Cecily had repeated it the thirtieth time in a row, Clarisse lost it. She stormed into the living room and over to the piano. She slammed Cecily’s book of piano music shut, and pushed Cecily’s hands away from the piano keys.

“You are giving me a headache with that banal, obnoxious, and monotonous noise!” she shouted.

“Wow! You just called Bach banal and monotonous noise!” said Cecily. “I’m going to tell Dad. He worships Bach.”

“He worships Bach when played by accomplished and adequate musicians,” retorted Clarisse. “Not when played by some lazy, untalented, insipid, brat. Now get out of here! I don’t care what your Father says. You’re done practicing. Get out of my house!”

For once, Cecily didn’t argue with Clarisse. She happily grabbed her sketch stuff and made her way outside to the back deck where Geezer had been banished off to. He happily greeted Cecily as she sat down in an Adirondack chair.

“Hey Geezer,” said Cecily as she gave Geezer a kiss right on the tip of his wet nose. “I’m sorry that Daddy’s making you stay out here all because of that awful, nasty, gold digger whore. He’s just got to break up with her soon. What could he possibly see in her anyway? She’s hot, but he’s done a lot of hot chicks.”

Geezer barked and wagged his tail in understanding.

Cecily had been working quietly for about a half hour, diligently consulting her Lady of Shalott postcard for inspiration. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t even notice that someone other than Geezer had come up behind her.

“She looks like you,” a voice said.

Cecily whirled around to find Jackson standing right behind her chair. “What?” she asked.

Jackson gestured to the postcard that Cecily had propped up on the arm of the chair.

Cecily’s cheeks turned pink. “That’s the Lady of Shalott,” she said. “I’m trying to draw her.”

“The chick looks like you,” said Jackson.

“No,” said Cecily. “She’s too beautiful to look like me.”

“I never said that she was beautiful,” Jackson shrugged. “I just said that I think you look like her.”

“Oh,” answered Cecily. She had no idea what to say next, and apparently neither did Jackson. The two were silent. He plopped down in the other chair. He was waiting for his lesson.

Finally Jackson said

“You know if you’re interested in Arthurian legend there’s a play downtown going on of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. You should ask your Dad to take you to go see it.”

“I’d love to go see it,” admitted Cecily. “I’ll have to ask him. Hopefully he won’t be too busy with Clarisse.”

“Who’s Clarisse?” asked Jackson.

“This nineteen-year-old floozy that he’s banging at the moment,” answered Cecily.


“Was she that mega hot babe who answered door?” Jackson asked.

Cecily nodded.

“Your Dad is sleeping with her?” Jackson asked, surprised.

“She sure as hell ain’t the cleaning lady,” said Cecily.

“Holy crap. Tell your Dad nice work,” returned Jackson. “How come I don’t get any chicks? I play bass too.” He sighed. “It must be awfully cool having a rock star for a dad.”

“It is when he’s not off screwing women that are young enough to be my older sister,” replied Cecily. “Clarisse is only seven years older than me.”

“That would be kind of weird,” Jackson admitted. He could tell by the expression on her face that Cecily was rather bothered by it. “I guess that I really wouldn’t like it either,” he said. “No matter how hot she was.”

“Yeah, well I’m a girl,” said Cecily. “Gazing at her titties don’t do squat for me.”

Jackson smiled. “You said titties,” he remarked,

Cecily shrugged. “It’s true,” she replied.

“I’ve just never heard a girl say titties before,” Jackson said. “That’s cool. Look, I’m really sorry about that Clarisse chick. My parents are divorced, and my Mom remarried this dude. He wasn’t a really hot nineteen-year-old or anything, but I didn’t like him at first because I thought that we had nothing in common, and I missed my real dad. But I did give him a chance, and he didn’t turn out to be so bad. He’s taken me to some ball games, and has come to a few of my gigs, so he tries, I’ll give him that.”

“Clarisse wouldn’t take me to a ball game if my life depended on it,” said Cecily. “It’s hard to give her chance. I’m trying, but then she’ll do something that really pisses me off. And I really miss Emily.”

“Is Emily your Mom?” Jackson asked.

“Not by blood, but I think of her as my Mom,” answered Cecily wistfully. “I call her Mom when I’m around her. She went to study in London. Apparently, she’s not with my Daddy anymore. I don’t know what happened.”

“Hey!” Jackson exclaimed. “Was she that British chick who was around here for a while?”

Cecily nodded.

“I liked her,” Jackson said. “She was real nice. And really pretty too.”

The two were quiet again. Cecily looked down at her Lady of Shalott postcard.

“Well you know,” Jackson said. “If your Dad is too busy with that Clarisse chick maybe my Mom could take you to see Sir Gawain and the Green Knight?

“But your Mom doesn’t even know me,” replied Cecily. “Why would she take me to see a play?”

“I don’t mean that she’d just take you and no one else,” said Jackson. “She’d take the both of us.”

“Why would she take the both of us?” Cecily asked.

Jackson just looked at her. “Because she’s a nice lady!” he shot sarcastically. “Because you’re my friend Cecily, or at least I’d like to be friends.”

“Friends?” Cecily repeated. She got a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Yeah, you must know what friends are,” said Jackson. “Two people who enjoy each other’s company. I don’t really know you very well, you don’t go to my school or anything, but I’d like to get to know you better. “We could go this weekend, unless you don’t want to.”

“No,” said Cecily. “I mean no, I don’t want to don’t want to go,” she stumbled, realizing that she wasn’t making any coherent sense. “Ah fuck. I want to go!”

Upon realizing that another stubborn curse word had slipped out of her mouth, her hand flew up to her mouth, and she turned red. “I’m sorry!” she squealed.

“Cecily,” Jackson laughed. “I study bass with your Dad. Every other word out of his mouth is fuck this and fuck that.” He began to imitate Cliff. “You can’t fucking do it that way, you have to do it this fucking way because that’s the way that motherfucking Geezer Butler does it.”

Cecily giggled. “You sound just like him.”

“Jackson!” Jackson went on still imitating Cliff. “You’ve got to get your fucking shit together Man. Smoke some weed! You can’t still be fucking this up. Loosen up your fucking hand or else you’ll never be able to play eight hundred million beats per minute, you stupid motherfucker!”

“Ahem!” grunted the real Cliff as he came through the sliding glass door onto the deck. “Having fun are we?”

This time it was Jackson who turned red. “Howdy Mr. Burton,” he said. “I was just uh, uh, uh, entertaining your daughter.”

“Well she looks plenty entertained,” Cliff replied clearly not amused. “Come on Jackson let’s get your lesson started.” He turned and shuffled off to his studio.

Jackson stood up, grabbed his bass, and gave Cecily a little wave. “Just think about it,” he said. “See you around Cecily.” He smiled at her, and then he staggered off inside the house…


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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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Hehehe looks like Jackson's going to have an interesting bass lesson ;) But it is most certainly good to know that Cecily has a friend - at the moment it looks like she's going to need all the allies that she can get with this Clarisse bint around the place. (I did love the way that you wrote that scene - all the vestiges of teenage awkwardness with some fun. Great stuff).

Y'know what else I'm loving in this - the way that you have developed all of the characters (Clarisse from scratch, Cecily and Cliff from what they were). I mean, you can still see the people that they were a few years ago, but then they are still subtly different. Cecily is still the somewhat bratty kid with a mind for intrigue, but she is still older, more controlled, and Cliff - you can still see the riotous guy that he was, but he has definately grown up - and I do like the way that he now has a weird obsession with native american stuff. It's all the bits like this that make this story not just good but completely superb.

I'm glad I've guessed right about Emily - I really did like her in the last story!

It made me giggle when Cecily was being made to practice piano - reminded me of when I was a kid and my mum made me practice and learn to play piano. I was pissed at the time because there were other things I wanted to do - but now I am so so glad that I learnt :)

Once again it was a great chapter and each one seems to open more avenues for the story to expand and to go down. I'm looking forward to the next episode - you really are such a skilled writer :)
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Battery
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Some Kind Of Monster
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“The boobies are far more important than the brains Cess,” Cliff replied. Cecily scowled." :horse ( :lol: )
Clarisse is so mean :ugh: a real bitch, that she is... Calling poor Cecily a creep :angry Cliff... Open your eyes man!
I'm so happy Cecily found Jackson. I loved the scene between them, both sweet and funny :D That was so great to invite Cecily to this play :)
I'm loving this! Can't wait for more :heart:
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Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Cliff, what kind of example are you setting for Cecily? :rolleyes: And yeah, piano lessons suck. Mom made me take them when I was a kid, and I was so bad at them, I think I'm tone deaf, I must've annoyed the hell out of the teacher :blush: Jackson seems like a good kid, and I love King Arthur stuff :D
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