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| Daughter of the Year; Ze Sequel to Father of the Year | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: December 14, 2007, 12:15 am (11,139 Views) | |
| Verity | February 15, 2008, 9:02 pm Post #346 |
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The Story Girl
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This chapter sucks but the next one after this is quite amusing. At least to me it is! Anyway, I found out today that my Dad has been to Copenhagen a few times and I started to giggle and he didn't understand why. So he asks me what's so funny about Copenhagen and I tell him that Lars is from there, and he says: what's a Lars??? I just laughed and told him to never mind. Too many margaritas. Chapter Ninety-Seven “I really don’t think that this is a very good idea Evan,” said Mrs. Fitzgerald. “Your fiancée who within three days will be your wife having tea with some other man?” “Mum,” Evan replied. “I trust Emily. She’s going to have tea with her daughter, and then she’s going to come home. Nothing is going to happen. She went to Denmark with Cliff and nothing happened.” “It started rumors,” Mrs. Fitzgerald shot. “It looks bad to have your fiancée frolicking about town like a wild gypsy with her ex boyfriend.” “She’s doing for it Cecily,” Evan tried to explain to his mother for the umpteenth trillion time. “The poor girl has already been through so much. She took their breakup really hard, so they’re just trying to ease her into the idea of not being together anymore.” “By going on outings together?” Mrs. Fitzgerald asked. “It’ll be fine Mother,” Evan reassured her. “Emily can hardly stand the mention of Cliff Burton. She’s doing this out of love for Cecily. Actually, this evening I’m taking Cecily out to the park. She’s going to help me work on my wedding speech.” “If I were you I wouldn’t invest too much time into that girl,” said Mrs. Fitzgerald. “What she did by hiding out on her parents was absolutely despicable. She deserves to have her butt warmed, and then sent off to her room with no dinner.” “That’s been most of her entire summer,” Evan retorted. “Let the poor little thing be.” “How can you be so lax with her?” Mrs. Fitzgerald demanded. “She pulled that outrageous stunt to get your fiancée back with Cliff. She tried to ruin everything! She’s a vicious, manipulative, brat! It frightens me that Emily had a hand in raising her. I hope that she’ll do better when you adopt your own children.” “What kid wouldn’t want their parents back together?” Evan shrugged. “She just wants a family that doesn’t fight, and argue, and hate each other all of the time.” “Humph!” snorted his mother. “While she’s off having tea with that dreadful little girl, and that ugly and disgusting ex punk rocker boyfriend of hers, I’ll be stuck with trying to do the seating arrangements for the reception.” “I’ll help you do it,” offered Cheyenne from where she was sitting in the corner tying gold organza ribbon around wedding programs. “I don’t think figuring out the seating arrangements for the reception is brain surgery,” replied Evan. “Well there is an art to it,” replied his mother. “We don’t want to make any political faux pas by having the wrong people sitting together at the same table. This wedding is very important to your father.” “Well neither Emily nor I know how to avoid “political faux pas,” retorted Evan. “You’d being doing the seating by yourself anyway. Just remember that Emily does not want a head table. We don’t want be lined up like ducks in a row while we eat. We want to eat down with our friends.” “Ah yes,” nodded Mrs. Fitzgerald. “Because Emily doesn’t have one bone of class in her, which is odd considering that she is from decent breeding. She’s been living with that hippie hooligan out in San Francisco for too long.” *** Cecily was all dressed up and ready to go to tea with her parents. She had decided to wear her lilac colored dress from her dad, because he had yet to see her in it. She knew that he would be pleased that she was wearing it. As she clasped her Cecily Burton locket around her neck she silently hoped that her parents wouldn’t kill each other during tea. “Cecily dear!” Emily bellowed from downstairs. “We should get going!” “Coming!” Cecily replied. She grabbed her purse, and made her way down the stairs. As soon as she saw Emily, she couldn’t help but break out into a smile. Her dad could piss and moan about how bitchy Emily could be all that he wanted, but one thing for sure was he wasn’t going to deny that Emily looked very pretty and summery in her light blue sundress. She had topped the outfit off with a large, white, straw hat with a huge brim. “That dress looks great on you Cecily,” Emily commented. “You look amazing Mom,” replied Cecily as she linked Emily’s arm in hers and headed towards the door. “I wish that I could wear a big, mysterious, hat like yours but I don’t have the bone structure.” “Cecily, quit fishing for compliments,” Emily scolded. “Well, well, well,” observed Evan as he strolled into the parlor. “What do we have here? A lovely lady convention? I would sure think so. Why else would there be two beautiful ladies dressed in their finest in my parlor?” Emily laughed. “Cecily and I are dressed up for tea, you silly lad,” she said. She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a big kiss. He held her there for a few moments. Cecily could see the smile on his face as he kissed her, and Emily giggled. Those two really are in love, she said to herself. It was so wrong trying to get Mom back together with Dad. She’s very happy with Evan, and he’s so good to her. “You two ladies enjoy your tea,” Evan said as he let Emily go. “I’ll be off trying to find something to make me look presentable for our wedding on Friday. Whatever I find, I’m sure that I won’t look half as lovely as my bride-to-be- will.” “Evan Fitzgerald you do flatter me!” Emily laughed. “Trust me, the wedding dress that Kirk picked out looks like a psychedelic Ice Capade gone wild. It’s quite grotesque actually. Which reminds me, after tea we should stop by the bridal store and see if it’s here yet.” “I’m sure that you’ll look just beautiful,” gushed Evan. “You always do. I love you Emily.” Emily gave him another kiss, and a quick hug, and then she hurried out the door. *** “Talk dirty in Spanish to me,” Kirk Lee Hammett commanded to Alejandra. “Say the dirtiest thing that you can think of.” He poured her some more champagne, and fed her a chocolate dipped strawberry. Alejandra mumbled something in Spanish, and then began to bewitchingly suck on the strawberry, making dainty little slurping sounds as she sucked. Kirk felt a tingle emerge from his loins. It skipped and danced right through his belly, and all the way up through his spine to the very tips of his ears. It even made his eyes water, and he went hard. Damn. He wished he was that strawberry. Kirk had actually come back to his hotel room that afternoon to find Alejandra diligently working away scrubbing at his bathtub. Within five minutes, they were both naked, and inside of the bathtub, which in Alejandra’s humble opinion was a lot more fun than scrubbing the damn thing. She climbed up on top of Kirk, and delicately rubbed a sudsy tit right in his face. Kirk moaned as the tit left a soft trail of soapy bubbles on his cheek, and then lightly brushed his mass of black curls. “Make love to me Alejandra,” Kirk groaned in a fake and very bad Spanish accent. Alejandra began sucking on Kirk’s neck at once right there in the hot tub as Kirk entered her, letting the rhythm of the warm bathwater ease his way inside, deep into the alluring and arousing realm of the soul of womanhood. “Uhhhhhhhh,” he moaned in pleasure as he closed his eyes and tossed back his head of dark, marauding, curls. Cliff Burton was having a fashion crisis. He had just been informed that Afternoon Tea had a dress code, which he felt was some serious bullshit. Nonetheless, he wanted to spend an afternoon with his daughter, and if that meant having to dress up as the Mad Hatter, he would do so. However, he had nothing decent to wear. Something told him that ripped bellbottoms and Misfits shirts would not be wanted at tea. So who better to go to than Kirk Hamster? That little shit weasel had put Cliff through enough bullshit. The least that he could do was give him some fashion pointers. So Cliff merrily made his way down the hallway to Kirk’s room, and again barged right on in. “Hey Hamster!” he bellowed. “I’m in deep shit.” Cliff walked right into the bathroom where a soapy and sudsy Alejandra was thrust upon Kirk in the bathtub. “I have nothing to wear,” he whined. “Is knocking before you enter a room so fucking hard to do?” an irritated Kirk asked. “Kirk,” retorted Cliff. “It’s two o’clock in the fucking afternoon. Nobody in their right mind fucks at this hour.” “I do,” Alejandra replied. “You’re not in your right mind,” Cliff snapped. “You’re fucking Kirk for crying out loud! Fucking Kirk is like fucking a Pomeranian. Now get the bloody fuck out of here before I call your supervisor, and tell him that instead of cleaning toilets, you’re off screwing hotel guests!” Alejandra did not need to be told again. She climbed off of Kirk, and out of the bathtub. Cliff couldn’t help but get a load of her smoking hot bod laden with soap suds that glistened against her olive colored skin. He swallowed as he watched her hastily throw a towel around her body, and unbraid her hair thick, dark, hair. Kirk sighed. “Well there goes that,” he groaned as he too stood up to get out of the bath. Cliff quickly turned his head away. “Jesus Hamster!” he exclaimed. “Do you not have any modesty?” “Cliff, I once had to drag you from a McDonalds back to your mother’s house while you were buck naked. Don’t lecture me about modesty,” Kirk declared as he hoisted his tight little ass into a pair of black leather breeches. “Just cut the bullshit and put some fucking clothes on!” demanded Cliff. “Speaking of clothes, I don’t have jack shit to wear to tea with Cecily.” “And just who’s fault is that?” Kirk retorted as he gazed into the bathroom mirror, and began to flip his hair and pose as if he were taking part in a fashion shoot. “If you ever paid attention to things such as clothes and fashion, you wouldn’t be stuck with a wardrobe that screams 1974.” He sighed as he squirted some mouse into his palm and then began to tease it through his hair. “I suppose that you want to borrow my spiffy denim blazer once again.” “Absomotherfuckinglutely,” Cliff replied. “It’s hanging up in my armoire,” said Kirk. “But I will only let you use it on one condition.” “Oh yeah?” Cliff asked. “And just what is your one condition?” “I want to go to tea with you,” answered Kirk. “I think that tea at the Four Seasons sounds quite lovely.” *** Cecily and Emily arrived at tea before the guys did, mostly because Kirk had to change his clothes forty-seven times. “Wow,” Cecily breathed as they entered the salon where tea was to be served. It was all done in ivory marble with thick marble columns that soared up to the ceiling, which was all hand painted with cherubs and flowers. A big glass dome let in rays of sunlight that seemed to celestially illuminate the entire salon. “Everything is so beautiful,” she murmured as she took her seat. “I feel as if I’ve stepped through the doors of a great cathedral.” “Enjoy it while it lasts Cecily,” said Emily. “Your father will probably get us thrown out of here within two minutes with that foul mouth of his.” Cecily frowned at her. “Mom!” she squawked. “You two are to be nice to each other.” “I know,” Emily sighed. “He’s just such an easy target for me to pick at. He’s such an asshole.” “And just who has the foul mouth?” Cecily shot. Emily scowled at her as she looked over her menu. She decided to change the subject. She actually did have something that she really wanted to tell Cecily. “Your father and I saw Claudia,” she began. Cecily didn’t even look up from her menu. “That’s nice,” she replied indifferently. “I talked to her for a little bit,” Emily continued. “Hmmmm,” Cecily mumbled, still without looking up. “I think that her life has been rather difficult,” said Emily. “I felt so sorry for her.” “Well I don’t,” Cecily replied hostilely. “And I don’t really want to hear about her.” “She had something that she wanted me to tell you,” said Emily. “That she needs me to loan her money?” Cecily asked. “I don’t have any money. I spent all of my birthday money, and I would rather die than loan any of it to her.” “She never got the letter that you sent her,” Emily went on. “I think she moves around a lot.” “Good,” answered Cecily. “I regret writing to her. I only did it because I was mad at my Dad. I hate her, and I never want to see her again.” “You don’t have to,” said Emily. “But she did ask me to tell you a few things. She wants you to know that she loves you, and she does still think about you.” Cecily snorted. “Yeah right,” she quipped. “She sure does have a fucking weird-ass way of showing it.” “Watch your language Cecily,” Emily scolded. “You look way too pretty and ladylike to be using such foul language. Save it for at home.” “Well its true!” returned Cecily. “All of these years she could never be bothered to call me, or even send me a birthday card. She never even said goodbye to me when she left.” “She was young, stupid, and immature,” replied Emily. “Sweetie, I think that your mother is quite embarrassed and sorry over how she has treated you. She told me that she’s very proud of you, and that you turned out a hell of a lot better than she did.” “That wasn’t very hard to do,” Cecily quipped. “The woman is a raging slut.” “I gave her your school picture from last year,” said Emily. “She wanted to see it, and then she asked me if she could keep it. She said that you were pretty.” Cecily finally looked up. “Really?” she asked. Emily nodded. “She’s never ever told me that before,” said Cecily. “She always said that I was a disappointment because I was so plain. I even overheard her once tell a friend that if she was going to be stuck with a daughter at such a young age, she didn’t know why it couldn’t have at least been a pretty daughter.” “You’ve grown up to be a very pretty girl Cecily,” replied Emily. “You look way prettier than she does. You get to have the last laugh.” “Good,” Cecily said, obviously very pleased with herself. “I wonder if she ever regrets giving me away.” “I’m sure that she does because she misses you,” said Emily. “But she also knows that by doing so, you’ve had a much better life with Cliff. Even if he does smoke too much pot and often passes out on the bathroom floor.” “I would never trade my life with Daddy or with you,” said Cecily. “Not for anything.” “Neither would I dear,” Emily answered. “Even though my daddy hurt you?” Cecily asked. Emily nodded. “Having you as a daughter Cecily, was worth every one of his shenanigans,” she replied. “Speaking of which, there he is with Kirk. Oh God! He’s not really going to wear that blasted cowboy hat to tea is he?” “Of course he is,” Cecily laughed. “He’s Cliff Burton.” Just then Kirk Hammett with Cliff in tow appeared in the doorway of the salon. Cliff was decked out in Kirk’s spiffy denim blazer, bellbottoms, and his cowboy hat, and Kirk was dressed to the nines in black leather breeches with fantastic black leather knee high boots. He wore a white silk puffy shirt with billowing sleeves. A huge silver Celtic cross that hung from a black silken cord around his neck completed his outfit. Needless to say, they were quite the pair, and they turned a lot of heads as they entered the room. After all, how could they not? |
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| maisy blue | February 16, 2008, 12:56 am Post #347 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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Oh. My. God. When I read the descriptions of what the guys wore to tea... yikes! Niiiiiice outfit, Kirk. When I read that, I almost fell off the chair in shock. Poor guy. Your writing was awesome in this chapter. I love the descriptions of the reactions. I use the word "said" way too much. You are so good at using a variety of words to describe expressions and emotions. I need to study your writing. Good stuff... I love it!
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| Battery | February 16, 2008, 9:17 am Post #348 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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Awesome chapter! I must say that the scene between Kirk and Alejandra was damn hot! ![]() “Talk dirty in Spanish to me,” but that crack me up, haha, naughty Kirk :horns2 And I loved him posing before the mirror and all the hair flipping .. And they outfits to the tea with Emily and Cecily... omg I so can't wait to read next chapter. Great, as usual |
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| Lucifer's Angel | February 16, 2008, 9:21 am Post #349 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Cliff, first he interrupts Kirk with Alejandra, and then he still wears the cowboy hat And yes, his fashion sense is still stuck in 1974, but that's why we love him. And he'd better not get them tossed out of there
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| Verity | February 16, 2008, 11:28 pm Post #350 |
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The Story Girl
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Thank you so so so so soooooooooooooooo very much for the kind words gals. You really brightened my day. I'm absolutely exhausted and my finger hurt. Too much playing. blah. But anyways, I'm so happy to be home where I can just chill and write. Chapter Ninety-Eight “Good day Mistress Burton,” Cliff said in an abysmal British accent as he took Cecily’s hand and kissed it. “That is a fine dress that you’re wearing. Wherever did you get it?” “Oh Daddy,” Cecily laughed. “You know where I got this dress. You bought it for me.” “I did,” Cliff said proudly. “You bought that for her Cliff?” Kirk mused in surprise. “I’m impressed. Nice work.” “Well I did pick it out,” Cecily added. “Aye,” said Kirk. “Now it makes more sense.” He took his chair at the tea table, and ran his fingers through his silky, ebony, tresses. “You look very pretty Cecily, and so do you Emily.” He took Emily’s hand and kissed it, and then turned to Cliff. “Don’t you think that Emily looks pretty Cliff?” “She looks alright I guess,” Cliff shrugged, hardly even giving her a glance. “I wouldn’t kick her out of bed for eating crackers.” “Oh fuck off Cliff, you stupid squaw hippie!” retorted Emily. “You’d be lucky to even have me in your bed.” “Mom stop!” Cecily begged. “He started it!” said Emily. “I did not!” retorted Cliff. “Actually Clifford, you kind of did,” piped up Kirk. “Don’t call me Clifford!” Cliff yelped. “Well then quit calling me Hamster!” Kirk yelled. “I’m not a gerbil.” “You sure as hell look like one,” Cliff snarled. “Would everybody please stop fighting,” Cecily cut in. “Cess is right,” said Kirk. “Let’s all make nice. Cliff say something nice to Emily, and shake her hand.” Cliff shot Kirk a dirty look. “I already tried this,” said Cecily. “It didn’t do shit. “Go on,” Kirk prodded Cliff, ignoring Cecily. “Give her a sincere compliment.” Cliff looked at Emily, taking in every detail of her in that little light blue sundress, and big brimmed straw hat. He knew that she had worn it on purpose. She knew that was Cliff’s favorite color on her and that he liked it when she wore big hats. She was trying to make him all horny, and he was not going to give in to her bullshit, not matter how hard it was for him to resist. “We’re waiting Cliff,” Kirk nagged. Cliff sighed and unenchantedly took Emily’s hand. Finally he said “Your snatch is nice and loose, and stretched out. It’s easy for me to get myself in and out of it.” “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” Kirk responded. He sighed. It was going to be quite the chore to get Cliff and Emily back together before the wedding, and he was going to need Cecily’s help. He watched as they were served champagne. The wheels in his little curly head began turning. He cleared his throat “I need to borrow Cecily for a few minutes,” he announced. “You had my daughter squirreled away for the past three days,” Cliff replied. “You’ve had enough time with her.” “I just need to borrow her for a few minutes,” Kirk went on carefully. “I need to ask her opinion on a wedding gift for Emily.” “You don’t have to get me a wedding gift Kirk,” Emily said. “You’ve already done so much with picking out my dress.” “I insist on getting you and Evan a present my fair lady,” replied Kirk. “He jumped up from his chair. “Now Cess and I will only be a few minutes.” He tugged on Cecily’s arm. She had no choice but to follow Kirk out of the salon, but she was very confused. Did Kirk really need to ask her opinion right that very second? Couldn’t she have an uninterrupted afternoon with her parents? “I think our plan is working,” Kirk said once they were out of the salon. “What plan?” asked Cecily. “The plan that we meticulously crafted to get your parents back together,” replied Kirk. “You can just see that they’re wild about each other.” Cecily turned around to look at her parents. In her opinion they looked like they could barely stand to be sitting at the same table with one another. Emily was focused on working her way through a bottle of champagne, and Cliff was looking up at the ceiling whistling, and flat out ignoring her.” “Mr. Kirk,” said Cecily. “I really do appreciate all that you’ve done for me, but with all due respect our plan sucked ass. It went over like a lead balloon. We didn’t accomplish a damn thing. All that we did by keeping me tucked away in that hotel room was just cause a lot of worry and upset for everyone, and we caused my parents to waste tons of money. It was a disaster.” “No it wasn’t,” said Kirk. “My parents are nowhere near getting back together,” pointed out Cecily. “Cliff’s over here isn’t he?” shot Kirk. He tossed a stubborn ringlet over his shoulder and sniffed. “We got him to get his ass over to England. Now we just have to work on getting the sparks lit between them.” “No Mr. Kirk,” Cecily said. “I don’t want to try to get my parents back together again.” “Cecily Burton!” Kirk exclaimed. “Where’s your sense of romance? If I ever did have a kindred spirit when it came to daydreaming about romance, it was you Cecily. Why the fuck are you backing out?” “It’s Mr. Evan,” Cecily explained. “He’s such a sweet guy, and he really truly loves Miss Emily with all his heart. In order for my parents to get back together, he’d have to have his heart broken, and I can’t do that to him. He doesn’t deserve it.” Kirk was quiet. He bit his lip as he watched Cliff and Emily from afar. Cecily was right. Kirk had met Evan a few times and he was always very cordial, cheerful, and loving towards Emily. “Who’s happiness means more to you Cess?” he finally asked. “Evan’s or your father’s? We know for a fact that Emily still loves your dad.” “She may love Daddy,” answered Cecily. “But I think in the long run, she’ll be happier with Mr. Evan. She was with Daddy for almost seven years, and he could never behave himself long enough to make her very happy.” “Cess, I’ve been married and divorced, and through countless other relationships, some good, some disastrous. I’ll admit that I do rather enjoy the company of the ladies, so I know a thing or two when it comes to matters of the heart. No matter how wonderful the person that you’re with might be, you’re never going to be happy if you don’t love them.” Meanwhile, back at the table Cliff and Emily sat across from each other, neither of them spoke. Cliff knew that he should say something. He was rather uncomfortable sitting there in silence, plus he had already had four glasses of champagne, and it was making him feel talkative. He was beyond the state of tipsiness. “So,” he began. “You want to tell me just how you know that the Ham Man isn’t really gay?” “No,” answered Emily as she poured herself more champagne. “Well too bad,” shot Cliff. “Tell me about it.” “I slept with him,” Emily said matter-of-factly. She slugged her champagne. Damn. The Four Seasons always served the good stuff. “I was horny,” she went on. “You were passed out on the bathroom floor, and Kirk wasn’t.” “You slept with Hamster?” Cliff asked, intrigue and amusement appearing on his face. For some fucked up reason, in a kinky sort of way, Cliff thought that it was rather hot that Emily had slept with Kirk. He could just imagine them going at it like two furry little curly haired rabbits. Perhaps it was the fact that Emily was no longer his lady anymore, that Cliff found it so amusing. He was pretty sure that Evan wouldn’t have found it quite as enthralling. “Is that so,” he went on as he poured himself and Emily some more champagne. He felt bad that he was drinking so much. Here he was supposed to be having a tranquil afternoon with his daughter, and he was already butt-ass wasted. Oh well. It was Emily’s fault. The chit drove him to drink. Emily nodded as she chewed at one of her fingernails. “So is he like Don Juan in the sack?” Cliff asked. “He’s decent,” Emily replied with a shrug. “Not half as good as James, but then again nobody is. James is the best that I’ve ever had.” This time, Cliff spat out the champagne that he had been drinking. It went all over Emily’s light blue dress, and onto her face, and into her hair. “You slept with James too?” he cried. “Jesus!” Emily shrieked as the champagne hit her. “My dress is ruined!” she yelped. She began to dab furiously at the spots with her napkin. “I was kidding you asshole!” she shrieked. “What kind of a ho bag slut do you think I am?” The alcohol was making her feel rather emotional and weepy. She looked down at her dress. “Oh no!” she wailed, as tears stung her eyes. “Evan bought me this dress.” Leave it to Cliff to accidentally ruin a dress that Evan had bought for her. “Well you shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered. “Why do you tell me shit like that?” “Because you’re a dick Cliff!” Emily hissed. “You fucking lived with me for six years. You should know me better by now. Fuck! You should know Kirk and James better by now. They’re your friends.” “I do know Kirk and James!” Cliff replied hotly, his face turning red with embarrassment, for half the salon was staring at them. They couldn’t go anywhere and behave, could they? “I know Kirk and James,” Cliff continued. “They’re both hornier than a two peckered Billy goat. They’ll sleep with anything, even you!” “Fuck you Cliff!” Emily spat. She sprang up out of her chair and picked up a nearly full bottle of champagne. She dumped it over Cliff’s head, the crystal, cool, wetness of it saturating his hair, and Kirk’s poor, spiffy, denim, blazer. “You bitch!” Cliff screeched loudly. He grabbed the bottle from her, and was about to break it over her head, but he stopped in midair. His father had told him once as a young boy that he could fuck women left and right inside the porta johns at the country fair, but he was never, ever, ever, to hit or physically harm a lady. Cliff dropped the bottle down onto the table. “You two!” screamed the maitre de. “Get out of my hotel! You’re disrupting High Tea!” “I hate to break it to you Mister,” warbled a drunken Cliff. “But it ain’t High Tea unless you got some weed around.” “Just get out of here right now!” the maitre de barked. “And you will be charged for that bottle of champagne! We’ll charge it to your room!” “Charge it to room 1226!” Cliff shouted. “Kirk Hammett’s room.” “Please don’t throw us out of here,” said Emily. “My daughter and our friend won’t know where we’ve gone off to.” “Well that’s their problem not ours,” snapped the maitre de. “You will leave immediately, or else I’ll call hotel security.” “Oh I’ve had hotel security on my ass a number of times,” rambled Cliff. “I’m not scared of them.” Which was true. Metallica was not very popular among hotel security guards. “Well I am scared of them,” replied Emily. “Let’s just get out of here Cliff,” she said as she tugged on his arm. “I don’t want to make anymore trouble.” “But Kirk and Cecily,” said Cliff. “I think they’ll be fine,” Emily snapped. “They’re big scheming buddies anyway. You’ve managed to ruin yet another afternoon with my daughter!” “And just what do you fucking mean by that?” demanded Cliff as he followed Emily out of the hotel. “How did I ruin everything? You’re the asshole who dumped champagne all over me.” “Well you spat it all over me!” Emily yelled. “Yeah, because you claimed that you’ve slept with all of my friends!” screeched Cliff. “Did you sleep with Lars too?” “No!” Emily shouted. “I didn’t sleep with James! I’ll admit it Cliff. I did sleep with Kirk one time. We were on tour, we were at some motel near Cincinnati, and you had promised me an evening of fun in the motel’s hot tub.” “I don’t understand how this involves Kirk,” Cliff said. “You fucking got too pissed wasted to even look at me!” shouted Emily. “You passed out on the bathroom floor. I was sick of your bullshit, so I went down to the hot tub by myself, only to find that Kirk was there. He was there alone. Things went from there.” “We were engaged then weren’t we?” mused Cliff. “We were,” nodded Emily. “It was actually three weeks before the wedding, but you called the whole thing off five days later. You weren’t ready to commit.” “Well it’s a damn good thing that I called it off!” Cliff spat. “My fiancée goes off porking my friend in a cheap motel hot tub!” “You were doing the same with various groupies, and strippers, and God knows what else,” said Emily. “I only did it that one time. It was at least five years ago Cliff. I was a stupid kid. I’ve grown up since then. I would never do a thing like that now. Never.” “I’ve grown up too,” Cliff answered. “I need to set a better example for Cecily. I want her to see that a guy can be faithful to his woman, and treat her right.” “It sure took you long enough to grow up,” Emily muttered bitterly. “But at least I did,” Cliff said with a shrug. “I’ve had a lot of shit happen to me over the past few months. I’ve seen my Gastropod boys all drunk and wasted, and sleeping with some skanky piece of ass that they don’t even know from a hole in the ground. It’s disgusting really, and it makes my skin crawl that I used to do that shit myself. I’m over and done with that now, and I’m not going to pull anymore of that bullshit for as long as I live. I’ve been there, done that. I want a woman who I can love, and who loves me in return, just because I’m me. Not because of Metallica, or Gastropod, or any other random bullshit, and when I find her I’m going to treat her with the love and respect that she deserves. I’m going to treat her like a lady. She also has to love my daughter too,” Cliff went on. “Clarisse treated Cecily like shit, and I’m never going to even think about dating anyone who Cecily doesn’t like. I’ll find that woman someday, I know that I will.” “You had found her Cliff,” said Emily. “But you pushed her away.” Cliff just looked at her. Emily shrugged. “I have to get going,” she went on. “I have errands to do. I need to see if the bridal shop has my wedding dress in yet. I also need to see about having this dress dry cleaned, now that you’ve managed to ruin it.” She started to take off down the street. “Wait for me!” Cliff called after her. “At least let me pay for it…” |
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| Battery | February 17, 2008, 8:23 am Post #351 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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"For some fucked up reason, in a kinky sort of way, Cliff thought that it was rather hot that Emily had slept with Kirk. He could just imagine them going at it like two furry little curly haired rabbits." I hope it doesn't make me a perv but I can't stop laughing about that bit I love scenes with Cliff and Emily, they rock together I'm not surprised they got kicked out from that tea And Emily sleeping with Kirk is a rather shocking thing but I can understand why she did that... And I loved what Cliff said at the end about his change, alcohol surely made him think straight And they really have to love each other very much to be able to still somehow get along after all what happened Brilliant chapter :horns2
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| Lucifer's Angel | February 17, 2008, 9:15 am Post #352 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Ha, Emily slept with Kirk. Don't blame her And wow, it looks like Cliff is finally growing up. He better get his shit together, or he'll never get Emily or any other girl. Go Emily!
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| maisy blue | February 17, 2008, 5:01 pm Post #353 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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This was a great chapter. I gasped aloud when Cliff gave his "compliment" to Emily. My husband asked what was wrong. I didn't tell him :wink: It seems like Emily and Cliff are really being honest with one another. I loved their interaction this chapter. Poor Kirk, he's such a girly man. |
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| Verity | February 17, 2008, 11:23 pm Post #354 |
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The Story Girl
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Maggie- You're not a perv at all. I thought it was funny too. You have a good sense of humor. Vanessa- Yeah, I wouldn't blame her either. Maisy- Sorry to make you gasp. I am pretty good at making people blush and gasp. next bit..... Chapter Ninety-Nine Emily could hear Cliff bellowing after her like a harridan as she briskly made her way down the street and turned the corner. He was yelling something about paying for the dry cleaning. Well fuck him. She didn’t need him. She had had quite enough of Cliff for one day. Actually she had had quite enough of him for a lifetime. “I can’t believe that I got thrown out of tea,” she sighed as she walked. “Cliff always did bring out the trashy side of me.” She pushed open the big glass door of the bridal boutique. The smell of organza and cheap perfume greeted her as she stepped inside. “You’re with the Fitzgerald wedding aren’t you?” said the saleslady immediately. Emily nodded. “I have a dress from Paris on order. Has it arrived yet?” “Let me go check,” the saleslady replied. She disappeared into the backroom. Emily began to wander around through the store. The boutique did more than just sell the finest wedding gowns in all of Europe. They also did custom work, and they had many silks and satins in all different shades of whites and ivories on hand. Seeing all of the fabrics made Emily miss her custom made wedding gown, the one that she had designed herself. She had dragged it around with her for nearly six years and now she would never get to wear it because Mrs. Fitzgerald hated satin. Perhaps she could sell it to someone. Just then, the little buzzer that sounded whenever someone came through the door went off. Emily looked up from the fabrics that she was looking at and groaned. What the hell is he doing here? she said to herself. “Well,” she said bitterly as she came forward. “You got me thrown out of tea. Are you trying to get me thrown out of the bridal shop too?” “Fuck off you shrew!” Cliff hissed at her. “I came because I want to pay for your dry cleaning.” “I can have the bill sent to you,” said Emily coldly. “It’s not here yet,” said the saleslady as she came back into the showroom. “It’s not?” repeated Emily. Her stomach did a flip flop. “I don’t want to sound cranky or anything, but the wedding is in two days.” “They’re two dresses that same style that are on order for Friday,” reported the saleslady. “Neither one of them is here.” “Just where the hell is this dress coming from again?” Cliff asked. “From Paris,” answered the saleslady. Cliff let out a low whistle. “Damn,” he muttered. “That must be some dress coming all the way from bumfuck Paris.” “Oh honestly Cliff,” snapped Emily. “It’s not like the dress is coming from Siberia.” “I never said that it was,” shot Cliff. The saleslady smiled at Cliff and held out her hand. “You must be the groom,” she said. “You two are already fighting like an old married couple.” “Oh he’s not the groom,” said Emily, blushing. “He’s not?” The saleslady asked in surprise, raising her eyebrows. “We actually can’t stand each other,” said Cliff. “Then why are you with her?” the saleslady asked. “To make her life hell,” Cliff answered with a shrug. He took out his pack of cigarettes. “Can I smoke in here?” he asked. “You guys have spent a small fortune on your dress here,” said the saleslady. “You can do whatever you’d like.” “Sweet,” Cliff mumbled as he stuffed a cigarette in between his lips and lit it. “What if the dress isn’t here on time?” Emily inquired, rolling her eyes at Cliff. Did he really have to smoke in the fucking dress shop for Christ’s sakes? Couldn’t he go outside? “I guarantee you that we’ll have them here by Friday at noon, even if someone from this shop has to drive to Paris to get them,” the saleslady promised. “Thank you,” said Emily gratefully. “If it doesn’t come you could always get married naked,” said Cliff as he blew out a cloud of smoke. “I sure as hell wouldn’t mind.” “Well I’m not getting married to you Cliff!” Emily retorted. “I’m marrying Evan, and he will want his bride clothed.” “Trust me,” said Cliff. “I’m sure that he wouldn’t mind either.” He took a thoughtful drag on the cigarette. “So do you have a picture of this infamous wedding dress that’s coming all the way from Paris?” he asked. “There’s one in our master catalogue,” replied the saleslady. “I’ll go get it.” Emily scowled at Cliff. “Since when do you give a flying fuck about my wedding dress?” she demanded. “Hey,” Cliff replied. “Before, I was always the groom. I wasn’t allowed to see your wedding gown remember?” The saleslady came back with a huge binder, stuffed like a turkey with pictures of all sorts of wedding gowns. “There it is,” she said with a flourish as she opened the book to Emily’s wedding gown. “It’s the most expensive gown that we carry,” she rattled. “The designer’s firm has designed gowns for many celebrities, including Grace Kelly. It has a ten foot train.” “Yay! I can trip over it,” quipped Emily as she frowned at the picture. Cliff studied the picture. The dress was a menagerie of lace and heavy beading on the bodice. There were so many beads on that damn thing that it had to be like wearing armor, and there was also a ton of fucking lace. “You’ll look like a giant cupcake,” he laughed. “Oh you don’t know anything!” Emily growled at him. Though she couldn’t help but agree with Cliff. She preferred the gown that she had designed much more to this one. “Kirk picked it out,” she added. “That explains a lot,” said Cliff. He sighed. “I’m sure that Evan Fitzgerald will like think that it’s very becoming on you Emily.” “You said his name right,” Emily gasped. “Have you run out of nasty names to call my fiancé?” “Actually yeah,” Cliff admitted. He puffed on his cigarette. “I’m surprised that you even bought a wedding gown,” he went on. “Weren’t you always going to design your own? You have a degree in fashion for crying out loud. You fucking worked for a bridal gown designer in San Francisco. This should be your specialty.” “I did design a wedding gown,” said Emily evenly. “Mrs. Fitzgerald hates it. She hates it because it’s satin, and she says that satin looks cheap.” “Satin ain’t cheap. Probst Blue Ribbon and a thirty cent hand job is cheap,” Cliff muttered. “Tell that to Evan’s mother,” Emily scoffed. “Ever since I was twelve, I wanted to be a wedding gown designer, and I wanted to certainly design my own gown. I kept a huge book just filled with clippings of pictures of gowns that I liked, and fabric swatches. I worked so hard on my dream gown. I had many years to do so since you kept calling off our weddings.” “See,” said Cliff. “I was trying to help you. I was trying to give you more time to work on your gown.” Emily rolled her eyes at him. “It was all for nothing anyway,” she sighed. “I’ll never get to wear it now.” “Wear it on Friday,” suggested Cliff. “You don’t have to wear this abomination from Paris.” “But Mrs. Fitzgerald,” started Emily, but Cliff cut her off. “I can’t believe you Emily!” he said as he put out his cigarette. “It’s not like you to worry about what some old coot says. This is the same girl who only minutes ago poured a bottle of champagne over my head and told me a number of times to go fuck myself? This is Emily, my Pussy Cat, who doesn’t take shit from anybody, and who has balls made from titanium? I don’t think so!” He paused for a moment to light another cigarette and went on. “The Emily that I know would have told Mrs. Fitzgerald to go blow herself, and then she would have worn whatever wedding gown that her heart desired.” “I don’t know Cliff,” sighed Emily as she glanced longingly at some satin fabric. “What do you mean you don’t know?” he demanded. “You’re like twenty-seven fucking years old! If you want to get married wearing nothing but a tin can on your head and a brillo pad, more power to you. If you’re going to let some old lady who thinks that her shit doesn’t stink tell you what to wear to your wedding, then you’re not the woman that I thought you were.” Emily was quiet. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Cliff was definitely right, and it bothered her that he was making sense. She looked at him. The champagne that she had poured over his head had dried, making his hair form a mass of long, frizzy, ringlets. He reeked of champagne, cigarettes, and lemon verbena, as well but for some odd reason she liked the smell of that combination. After all, it had been good champagne that she had poured over him. She started to head towards the door. “Where you going?” Cliff demanded. “Home,” answered Emily. “I’m going home to try on my wedding dress, to see if I still like it, though I’m pretty sure that I do. I just have this urge to want to put it on right now.” “I’m going to walk you home Emily,” Cliff said as he followed her over towards the door. “I’m plenty capable of getting home by myself,” Emily replied. “I’m a big girl. You even said so yourself. What was it that you said I have? Balls of titanium?” “Balls of titanium or not, a gentleman walks a lady home,” Cliff returned. “I hate to break it you to you Cliff,” said Emily. “But you’re not a gentleman.” “I’m trying to be one,” Cliff argued as he grabbed her arm. “I’m trying to learn how to be one so that someday when I meet the perfect girl, I’ll know how to treat her right. In the meantime, can’t I practice on you?” “I guess so,” Emily nodded. “But it’s going to take a lot of practice to turn you into a gentleman.” “Very funny,” Cliff snapped. “Well then, I guess that I should start right now,” He held the door open for her. “After you my lady,” he murmured. He took her hand and kissed it. “Why thank you sir,” replied Emily. “Are you going to escort me home?” A devilish grin appeared on Cliff’s face. “Absomotherfuckinglutely,” he said. “Now that’s the Cliff Burton that I’m used to,” Emily laughed, as she linked her arm in his…. |
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| Battery | February 18, 2008, 6:50 am Post #355 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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Thank you so much Now I feel flattered Anyways, that chapter rocked! Cliff and Emily are created for each other . I especially loved that bit:"She looked at him. The champagne that she had poured over his head had dried, making his hair form a mass of long, frizzy, ringlets. He reeked of champagne, cigarettes, and lemon verbena, as well but for some odd reason she liked the smell of that combination." so sweet And, oh my, Cliff's really starting to change! I loved when he scolded her and said she has a balls made from titanium and when he called her his Pussy Cat, awww ! And he wants to be gentleman :horns2 Awesome!!!
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| Lucifer's Angel | February 18, 2008, 9:11 am Post #356 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Go Cliff! She's right, though, it's going to take a lot of work for him to be a gentleman And maybe she should tell Mrs. Fitzgerald to blow herself, that would be funny as hell
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| maisy blue | February 18, 2008, 10:20 am Post #357 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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This chapter was SO well written, it knocked my socks off. WOW! Everything just flowed. I could totally see every detail in the scene. I can't wait to see what happens with Cliff and Emily. This was amazing amazing. LOVED IT!! |
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| Verity | February 18, 2008, 8:58 pm Post #358 |
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The Story Girl
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Your reviews made my day and it was a rather hectic one, so thank you so fucking much!!! It really does mean a lot. Each and every one of you rock. Chapter 100 Emily made her way into an empty house. It was to be expected though. She assumed that Kirk and Cecily were still enjoying their tea, Evan was surely off getting his tuxedo fitted, and Lord only knew where Mrs. Fitzgerald and Cheyenne went to. Probably off sticking their noses in places where it most certainly didn’t belong. “Nobody appears to be home,” Emily said as she took off her hat and set it down on a chair. However, Queen Victoria was home and she ran to the door to greet her master. She started to yip protectively when Cliff came through the door. “Cut it out!” Emily scolded the dog. “It’s just Cliff.” “Yeah, you little motherfucker!” Cliff snapped. “I banged your mommy for six years.” He bent down to be closer to the very little dog. He began to make growling sounds at her. “Knock it off Cliff!” Emily spat. “And you wonder why she doesn’t like you.” “Oh come on Pussy Cat,” Cliff laughed. “You have to admit that dog looks like a piece of shit. If I ever shat out a giant turd and it grew hair and legs and a little button nose, it would look just like that dog.” Emily did not look amused. “You really are a sick person you know that?” she scoffed as she picked Queen Victoria up and held the dog close. Queen Victoria made little squeaky noises as she began to cover Emily’s hand in kisses. “And do not call me Pussy Cat,” she snapped. “Here,” she held Queen Victoria out towards Cliff. “Hold her for me.” “Absolutely not!” Cliff returned, but he was too late. Emily dumped the dog in his arms. Cliff held the dog out away from him. He didn’t want to get dog hair all over Kirk’s spiffy denim blazer, even though it did have champagne spilled all over it. “Where you going?” he barked at Emily as she started to make her way up the stairs. “Up to try my dress on of course,” Emily replied. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with the dog?” Cliff asked, still holding Queen Victoria out away from him. “Cuddle and play with her,” retorted Emily. “What you’d normally do with a dog. You have a dog Cliff. You know what to do.” “Geezer is a dog yes,” Cliff responded. “But this thing ain’t no dog. It looks like a fart. What do I do if it pisses on me?” “It wouldn’t be the first time that you were pissed on Cliff!” Emily yelled from upstairs. That was sadly true. For a while, everyone in Metallica’s entourage used to sleep with one eye open because Lars went through a stage where he found it very amusing to piss on people while they slept. Fortunately, he was now over that stage. Queen Victoria began to chew on a strand of Cliff’s hair. “Hey!” he commanded. “Don’t fuck with my hair.” He pulled his hair away, and Queen Victoria whimpered. “Your mom is a bitch,” he said to the dog. He sighed and plopped down on the sofa in the living room, holding Queen Victoria in his lap. The little dog settled right down, nestling into Cliff and the denim blazer which smelled of champagne, but to Queen Victoria it smelled like food. She began to lick his sleeve. Oh well. At least the blazer belonged to Kirk. Cliff absentmindedly began to gently pet the dog’s head as he looked around the room. He spotted a picture of a young Cecily trying to dance out in their old backyard. She looked just as silly as ever, with her hair was flying all around. It had always been one of Cliff’s favorite pictures of her, because it showed off her craziness. Apparently it was also a favorite of Emily’s because she had it displayed in her living room. He turned his attention back to Queen Victoria, who had now covered the sleeve of Kirk’s blazer in slobber. “Okay that’s enough you sick little pervert!” he scolded at the dog. Queen Victoria scowled at Cliff with big, brown, glassy, eyes. From just between her mouth he could see her tiny, pink, tongue. How could just a little tongue create such a slobbery mess? However, Cliff had to admit that even Queen Victoria’s biggest mess was much, much, much, smaller than the mass puddles of drool and slobber that Geezer often left around the house. Geezer’s drooling was so bad that Cliff and Emily had often kept towels stashed in the sofa cushions, and in the drawers and shelves so that they could quickly mop up his drool whenever it happened. Cliff would never admit it to anyone, but he kind of liked having a small lapdog. He still loved old Geezer to pieces, but Queen Victoria didn’t smell, she wasn’t heavy, and unlike Geezer, she didn’t block his view of the TV whenever she climbed up in his lap. Emily, dressed in the wedding gown that she had designed, came down the stairs to rescue Queen Victoria. She wouldn’t put it past Cliff not to slaughter the poor little dog. She was quite taken aback to find just the opposite. He was sitting on the sofa with Queen Victoria nestled in his lap. Was he actually petting her? Seeing a long haired, tattooed, dude in bellbottoms petting a lapdog was just a weird-ass sight. Kirk had had a lap dog for a little while, but that was Kirk, not Cliff. It had been during the And Justice for All era. He had bought the dog, a black Pomeranian that he called Death Eater, as an accessory to carry around with him on tour and on events. Shortly before the premier of The Black album, Kirk had gotten rid of Death Eater, claming that the dog kept pissing in his favorite pair of black alligator skin shoes. However, the real reason that Kirk had gotten rid of the dog was because Bob Rock had refused to try and make multimillion dollar rock stars out of a band whose lead guitarist carried around a lapdog as a fashion accessory. Kirk had refused to get rid of the dog, so Lars had taken it out behind the recording studio near the dumpster, and had shot it, much to Kirk’s horror. Emily stood quietly in the doorway of the living room watching. She couldn’t help but smile. “I guess you’re alright,” Cliff said to the little dog as he patted her head. “But Queen Victoria is a dumb name. If it were up to me, I’d call you Skynyrd. Now that’s a badass name for a dog.” “Skynyrd?” Emily repeated a frown on her face. “You name a hound dog Skynyrd, not a Yorkshire Terrier.” Cliff looked up. His mouth dropped open at the sight of Emily in her wedding dress, and his eyes went huge. He couldn’t even think of a smartass comment to hurl back at her. He had gone speechless. “You can give me back my dog Cliff,” said Emily as she held out her hands. Cliff just stared at her. How could he not? The dress had a fucking corset top that hoisted up her tits quite nicely indeed. “What’s wrong?” Emily demanded, putting her hands on her hips. “You don’t like this dress either? I was thinking of selling it, but maybe I should just have it burned.” “No!” Cliff cried. “Don’t do that.” Emily gazed at her reflection in the mirror and sighed. “I’ve always liked satin,” she chattered. “Silk is fucking annoying. It water spots even if you look at cross eyed.” “Fuck the satin,” said Cliff. “That corset.” “What about the corset Cliff?” Emily asked, though she knew what he was getting at. She could feel him staring at her tits like a fox after a fresh fuck during a forest fire. “It’s uh, uh, it’s hot,” he stammered, his face turning beet red. “You look sexy.” Emily smiled. “Why thank you Cliff,” she replied sounding rather chipper. “But according to Mrs. Fitzgerald, this dress isn’t good enough for a Fitzgerald wedding.” “It’d be plenty good enough for a Burton wedding,” Cliff mumbled under his breath. “What was that?” said Emily. “Never mind,” Cliff returned. “That dress is plenty good enough. It’s just going to end up ripped off of you and on the floor anyway.” “Evan is a gentleman Cliff,” Emily reminded him. “I don’t care if he’s a motherfucking priest,” Cliff replied. “Once he sees you running around with your tits hanging out of that dress he’s going to ravage the fuck out of you.” Emily’s cheeks turned pink as she went over to him, and lifted Queen Victoria out of his arms. “Thank you Cliff,” she said as she kissed her dog, and then set her down on the floor. “It was nice to actually get to wear this dress for somebody,” she continued. “Even if it was just for you Cliff.” “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Cliff shot. “I’ve been working on designing this dress on and off for the past six years,” said Emily. “Only to never get to wear it for anyone. Besides my own mother and Cecily, you’re the only person that has seen me in it.” “Not for long,” replied Cliff. “You’re going to wear that dress on Friday. It’s way better than that thing that Kirk ordered.” “As much as I’d love to wear this dress I can’t,” said Emily as she gave herself one last look in the mirror. “The Fitzgerald’s bought the other dress for me, and it cost a fortune. I It would be very rude not to wear it. Evan’s mother would hate me forever if I wore this dress instead.” “Are you marrying her, or are you marrying Evan?” Cliff challenged. “You’re not making this any easier,” said Emily as she bit at her nails. “I never make things easier,” Cliff laughed. “That’s for sure,” quipped Emily. “You should wear whichever dress makes you feel the happiest,” Cliff said. “You’ve been waiting way too long for your wedding day. You should have been married five years ago.” Emily was quiet. She was watching Queen Victoria who was busy sniffing the floor as if it were very interesting. “It never would have worked out Cliff,” she murmured. “Probably,” Cliff replied with a shrug. “We most likely would have gotten divorced, but at least you could have worn your gorgeous dress for a day.” “And I could have had legal rights to Cecily as my daughter,” Emily added. “Yeah,” Cliff said. “I’m sorry about that. You know I might could check with a lawyer and see if you could be made some sort of second guardian for Cecily.” “I’d like that,” replied Emily. “I’d actually like that very much.” She sighed. “I guess I should go change out of this. I have no idea where Evan and Cecily are. I can’t believe that no one is home yet.” “Kirk’s probably holding Cecily hostage in a hotel room again,” Cliff joked. “I’m kind of hungry since I didn’t get to eat anything at tea.” “That’s your own damn fault,” Emily shot. “Hey,” said Cliff. “We both played an equal roll in getting our asses kicked out of there today, and I think that we both deserve a bite to eat. I haven’t had a decent meal since I got to England. Let’s go out. Let’s get something to eat somewhere.” Emily was about to say no. Running about with her ex flame two days before her wedding probably didn’t look very good, especially since the Fitzgerald’s were high profile. But it was going on seven o’clock, and she was rather hungry. She could have a quick bite to eat with him couldn’t she? After all, they did have Cecily in common, and they would be seeing each other from time to time. That was a fact that Evan had even accepted. “Okay,” she replied finally. “It’s on me,” said Cliff a little awkwardly. “Oh good,” Emily returned. “I’ll have to be sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.” “Fuck off!” Cliff spat as he pushed her playfully. “And please,” Emily went on. “Don’t get us thrown out this time…” |
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| maisy blue | February 19, 2008, 3:37 am Post #359 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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Nice nice nice! Especially like the long chapter. And if I didn't just take a Lunesta to help me sleep, I would have lots more to say!!! Sorry if I don't sound coherent. Not really all there at the moment... |
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| Lucifer's Angel | February 19, 2008, 9:13 am Post #360 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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I liked it when Cliff's eyes popped out of his head He still a long way from being a gentleman And how he he held Queen Victoria, she does sound a lot nicer than Geezer, and Kirk with his lapdog
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.. And they outfits to the tea with Emily and Cecily... omg 
And yes, his fashion sense is still stuck in 1974, but that's why we love him. And he'd better not get them tossed out of there
And wow, it looks like Cliff is finally growing up. He better get his shit together, or he'll never get Emily or any other girl. Go Emily!
Now I feel flattered
. I especially loved that bit:
! And he wants to be gentleman :horns2 
8:42 PM Jul 10