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Daughter of the Year; Ze Sequel to Father of the Year
Topic Started: December 14, 2007, 12:15 am (11,159 Views)
Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Clarisse is evil :angry Cliff better wake up, he better stop thinking with his dick :(
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Thanks everyone! Here's another update. I decided to go ahead and post it before the chaos starts. :dance The Tallica boys pop up in the next chapter after this one, I promise.


Chapter Twelve

A couple of days later Jackson came for another bass lesson. He was a serious student, and took bass lessons twice a week coming on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It was raining outside, so Clarisse sat Jackson down in the living room to wait until Cliff’s other bass lesson finished.

As Jackson waited he craned his neck around trying to see if there were any signs of Cecily. She didn’t seem to be around. She still hadn’t answered whether or not she was going to go to the play with him tomorrow night. To Jackson’s surprise, Cliff ended his other student’s lesson five minutes early, something that never had happened before. As the other student trooped out, Cliff stood there with his arms folded across his chest. He was staring a hole through Jackson, taking in every detail of the boy who wanted to bang his daughter.

Jackson grabbed his bass and made his way into the studio. “Hi Mr. Burton,” he said cheerfully.

Cliff grumbled something inaudible. Jackson shrugged. Maybe he was having troubles with the young nineteen-year-old babe-hussy. As Jackson set down his bass, he noticed a picture of Geezer and Cecily sitting on Cliff’s messy desk. He couldn’t help but smile at the girl in the picture for she had one of her arms draped around Geezer, and with the other she was giving the horns sign.

Cliff caught Jackson’s smiling at the picture. He did not like it one bit. He’s imaging her naked, he thought, cringing at the thought of anyone having an impure thought about his daughter. He cleared his throat.

“Sit down,” he commanded dryly.

“Okie dokie,” replied Jackson, always his usual cheerful self as he plopped down on the uglier-than-sin sofa. “I’ve been working through my music theory book just like you asked me to Mr. Burton,” Jackson said proudly.

He reached into his bass case and pulled out a music theory primer that Cliff had given him before he had left for his Gastropod tour. It had been like pulling teeth to get Jackson, or any of his other students for that matter, to even open the book, let alone do any of the exercises in it. He had even been trying to get the Gastropod guys to work their way through it.

“Why do we have to learn how to read music?” Floods the drummer, had grumbled.

“Don’t you want to write your own music?” Cliff had asked.

“Shit,” replied Spliff, the lead guitarist. “What the fuck do we need to learn how to read music for? We have the master Cliff Burton writing our riffs for us.” And with that, all four of them had dissolved into laughter as they lit a hookah.

Cliff stared down in disbelief at the book as Jackson opened it showing over half of the workbook pages completed, and completed correctly.

“I’ve been working really hard,” said Jackson. “I almost have the circle of fifths memorized.”

Cliff grumbled something that sort of resembled “that’s nice,” as he took the primer out of Jackson’s hands and threw it aside. “Jackson,” he said sternly. “We need to talk.”

Jackson’s heart thudded. Maybe Mr. Burton knew about some up and coming thrash band that needed a bassist, and wanted him to audition.

“I’ve heard that you have a thing for my daughter,” said Cliff as he took his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“No I don’t!” retorted Jackson. His cheeks turned deep, deep, deep, red.

“Don’t pull any bullshit with me Jackson!” snarled Cliff. “That ain’t going to land my daughter in bed with you.”

“Honestly Mr. Burton,” said Jackson. “All I did was ask her to see a play with my Mom and me tomorrow night, just as friends.”

“Jackson,” Cliff stated as he lit the cigarette. “I’m not a fucking idiot. I’ve been around the block a few times, and I know how fourteen-year-old boys function. You’re nervous and you’re in denial about the fact that you’re starting to think about girls all of the time.”

“I’m not in denial,” responded Jackson. “I do think about girls a lot.”

“You think about my daughter!” Cliff shot.

“No,” said Jackson. “I think about lots of girls, just girls in general.”

“Great,” Cliff quipped as he flicked ashes off of the end of his cigarette. “My daughter is running around with a player.”

“A player?” Jackson repeated. “What’s a player?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Cliff. “It’s a term that I learned from hanging around with Gastropod. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is you may think that you’re going to this play with Cecily as innocent friends, but in reality, deep down, you’re hoping to get in her pants.”

“Mr. Burton, I would never do such a thing to your daughter,” Jackson said adamantly.

“Jackson, admit it,” said Cliff. “Fourteen-year-old boys want to fuck. They want to get some action. They just aren’t sure how to go about getting it yet, so they go about creating these semi comfortable situations, that eventually lead to bigger and better things, hence you taking Cecily to a play.”

“I’m not like that!” Jackson cried. “I’m not ready for sex yet. Sure I think about, I think about it a lot.”

“You probably spend half of your time jacking off in the shower,” put in Cliff sourly.

“Maybe I do,” Jackson shrugged. “But I’m not ready to go there yet with a girl. I want to spend more time around girls, get to know girls better, but that’s it.”

Cliff sighed and took a puff on the cigarette. “You can go out with my Cecily on the condition that I chaperone instead of your Mom,” he said. “She can drop you off over here, so that it’s a somewhat proper date where you pick Cecily up like a gentleman should, but I’ll be driving you to the play house, and sitting in the seat that’s in between you guys.”

He was even going to be sitting in between? Was Mr. Burton fucking kidding? He had heard that Cliff Burton could be rather eccentric, but right now he was being downright, fucking, weird. After all, he had prided himself on screwing girls in every single state, county, and province. He was fucking a nineteen-year-old for crying out loud! Why the prudish behavior? But then again, it was better than nothing. Most of his friends would think getting to go to a play with Cliff Burton was pretty fucking badass.

“Fine,” Jackson nodded. “What time do you want me here?”

“Seven,” replied Cliff.

The two sat in silence, things being a wee bit awkward.

Oh God, thought Cliff as he put out his cigarette. What if he thinks about Cess while he masturbates? Cliff took a deep breath

“Why my Cecily?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Jackson shrugged. “She’s a cool girl. I like her hats.”

“Yeah right,” snapped Cliff. Hats! He wasn’t going to buy that lame ass excuse for all the pot in Bolivia. “You think she’s hot?” he asked.

“No,” Jackson replied.


“And just what the fuck do you mean by that?” Cliff snarled. “Are you saying that my daughter isn’t good looking?”

“No!” Jackson cried. “I didn’t mean that at all Mr. Burton, I just, just, just-” Now his face had gone completely red as he stammered around. What the fuck was he supposed to say? That he found his daughter rather sexy? He wanted to fuck her brains out?

“I find your daughter attractive,” he finally blurted out. “She’s pretty.”

“You can look at her, but you can’t touch,” Cliff snarled. “My daughter deserves the absolute best. Just because you’re one of my bass students doesn’t mean jack shit. You’re going to have to work extra hard if you want to keep seeing her. You understand?”

“I know Mr. Burton,” Jackson replied. “That’s why I worked so hard in my music theory primer. I want you to like me, so that you’ll let me be Cecily’s friend.”

“Well then you can start by working on your improvised solos,” Cliff snapped. He stood up and grabbed Jackson by the collar of his Slayer T-shirt, and held him up in midair. “And if you ever, ever, ever, break her heart, I swear to God that I will kill you.”

“Yes sir,” Jackson answered wearily. “Please put me down.”

“Don’t you ever hit her or make her cry,” Cliff went on. He gave Jackson a throttle. “Never hit a woman!”

“I would never do such a thing,” Jackson vowed. “Even my own Father would kill me if I did that.”

“And don’t you ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, get her pregnant,” Cliff snarled.

“Let me guess,” said Jackson. “If I do, you’ll kill me?”

Cliff nodded. “I’ll skin you alive.”

“Mr. Burton,” asked Jackson. “What’s Cecily’s favorite color?”

Cliff just looked at him for a moment. “Why?” he sneered.

“Just wonderin” answered Jackson.

Cliff loosened his grip and set Jackson down. “Purple,” he answered. “Any shade of purple.”

***
Meanwhile, back in England, a very crabby Emily had been ordered by Evan to deliver a box of important documents for one of his law cases to a client that happened to live way out in the bumfuck countryside.

“Dearest,” he had said sweetly. “I’m quite overworked this week. Could you help me out and deliver some papers to my client for me?”

Emily actually had quite a bit of work of her own to do, she had some sketches to finish for one of her classes, and she had to get Cecily’s birthday gift mailed out to her. However, Evan had asked nicely, and he had been rather good to her, so she had complied.

She had already been driving for a good half hour. How far out of the city did this person live? Finally, she spied the mailbox with the proper address. She couldn’t see the house from the street. They had a very long, curvy, driveway that went up a steep hill.

She eventually arrived at a quaint and cozy looking pink house with white painted Victorian gingerbread work. A sign that read “The Rose Water Bed and Breakfast” stood in front of it. Emily parked her car and grabbed the box of documents. She made her way up to the front door. She was about to ring the bell, when she noticed a small, whicker, basket overflowing with lilies and roses.

“Oh!” Emily gasped, speechless. What the fuck was going on? Nestled amongst the flowers was a note. A note addressed to her. It read

My Dearest Emily,

Please meet me around back

All my Love,
Evan


Emily’s heart skipped a beat as she folded the note and carefully tucked it deep down into her pocket of her jeans. All anger and resentment that she had been feeling at having to drive way out to the countryside at night melted away as she made her way to the back of the house.

“Evan Fitzgerald!” she squealed, shocked at the sight that greeted her.

Evan was there holding yet another bouquet of flowers. He was standing in the basket of a hot air balloon. “There’s my love,” he replied as he waved to her. “Would you mind going for a twilight balloon ride with me?”

Emily didn’t have to be asked twice. She raced over to the hot air balloon. Evan gave her his hand, and helped her step into the basket.

“Evan you crazy loon!” she exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Just a little treat for the woman that I love,” Evan replied as he kissed her hand, and handed her the flowers, this time a dozen peach roses.

“You do spoil me Evan!” Emily gushed. “It’s not even my birthday, or Christmas for that matter.”

“No,” Evan agreed as the hot air balloon dude started them off on their journey. The balloon slowly ascended into the air. “But I think today is a rather special day indeed.”

“Why is that?” asked Emily.

“Because I’m spending it with you of course,” Evan replied. He put his arm around her and kissed her. He noticed that she was cold. Evan had expected this, Emily was always complaining about being cold. “I brought this for you,” he said as he took out one of her jackets, and put it around her.

“Thank you,” said Emily. “Oh Evan, what a wonderful surprise. I feel as if I’m in a dream.”

Evan grinned as he took out two champagne glasses and a bottle of vintage Dom Perignon champagne. For a brief moment, Emily’s mind flashed back to the day six and a half years ago on Aunt Josephine’s veranda when silly little Cecily had tried to set her up with Cliff. Brunhilda the cook had set out chilled buckets of Dom Perignon out for them, and Cliff had admitted to liking it. It was the kind that he had bought for her numerous times, and he had always teased her because she could never get the bottles open herself. She was pulled out of her thoughts by Evan.

“Some champagne for the lady,” he said as he handed her a glass of champagne.

“Thank you,” Emily replied feeling shy, as she took the glass of champagne.

“A toast,” said Evan as he clicked his glass against hers. “To the most beautiful woman in the entire world. My life began when I met you Emily Watkins, and I love you.”

Emily blushed as she fell into Evan’s arms once again. She was honestly too moved for words. It was just the perfect evening. Twilight was settling over the English countryside, making the sky a rich creamy blue, with hints of lavender woven into the misty edge of the horizon. A few dim stars were just starting to show themselves amongst the silken ribbon of the sky. A cool breeze played with the ends of Emily’s long, curly, reddish blonde hair.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Evan as he pointed out of the basket, down towards the ground. “Would you look at that?”

Emily’s eyes opened wide, and her heart did a nose dive into the pit of her stomach at the sight beneath them.

Spelled out in luminaries that had been set up in the grassland were the words Emily Marry Me

Evan took both of Emily’s hands in his. She could tell that he was nervous, for they felt cold, wet, and clammy. Emily’s heart was beginning to beat uncontrollably and she began to feel sweaty. She was nervous too even though this certainly wasn’t her first marriage proposal.
She had had her first one long ago with some asshole dick who had broken her heart, and then she had five more of them with Cliff.

Evan got down on one knee and pulled a black velvet ring box out of his pocket. “Dearest,” he said shakily.

He opened the box revealing a very finely cut one caret diamond on a platinum gold wedding band.

Emily was speechless. For one thing, the proposal had been a quite a surprise to her, and it was also one of the few times that she hadn’t been proposed to with a skull ring.

Cliff’s five proposals had ranged everywhere from downright shitty, to out of this world romantic. The first time that he had proposed, was actually a fake and very unromantic proposal in front of social services to convince them to let him adopt Cecily as his own. Then there was the time that he proposed right under her hotel room window right after he had banged Claudia, also very unromantic. The third unromantic time came after they had been together for about four years, and an obliterated Cliff was standing at the toilet taking a whiz with the door open, and an annoyed Emily had come by to close the door because Cecily had friends over. As he was doing his business, Cliff had randomly said

“Shit. We’ve been together like forever. I guess we should get married sometime soon.” And out came the skull ring as he zipped up his jeans.

However, Cliff did have two very romantic non skull ring proposals that made up for the three unromantic ones. He had proposed to her once during the Master of Puppets tour from the top of the Eiffel tower, and had taken her ring shopping the very next day so that she could choose the ring herself. Only about a year ago, had been the other romantic proposal. He had taken her out for a walk through Aunt Josephine’s vineyard underneath the stars. He had placed the diamond ring on his pinky finger, and had used that finger to point up at a certain star. When Emily noticed the ring, he had gotten down on one knee, and asked her to marry him. That one had been their most recent engagement. Cliff had broken it off around Christmastime, with some gibberish about just not being ready for the commitment, and Emily had gone to London the following month.

However, this proposal of Evan’s was pretty darn romantic. He sure knew how to do it, and he didn’t have all the practice that Cliff had at it.

Evan held the ring up towards Emily. Even though it was now twilight, it still glistened like a shiny prism hanging from a ballroom chandelier.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

Emily nodded, tears starting to trickle down her cheeks. “Yes Evan Fitzgerald,” she replied. “I will marry you…”

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Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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I don't blame Emily for wanting to marry Evan, I mean, he does seem like a gentleman, unlike Cliff :rolleyes: Jackson being so embarrassed was funny, poor kid. Cliff is being the protective papa :lol: I can't wait to see what our boys are up to next :horns2
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Battery
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Some Kind Of Monster
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That was a brilliant chapter!
First part made me laugh really hard, Cliff was absolutely hilarious in it!!!
"Cliff caught Jackson’s smiling at the picture. He did not like it one bit. He’s imaging her naked" :tardlol :lol: poor Jackson :lol: ...
Second part made my jaw fall on the floor :lol: WOW oh WOW :o . That was one super romantic proposal...... Evan surely knows what he's doing.... And I'm not surprised she agreed, good for her... But, still.... Cliff *tear*
And I loved his 'non-skull ring' ( :horns2 ) proposals too......
Aaand I loved when you reminded events from 'Father of the Year' :horns2 :biggrin
Wow. I love this!!! :heart: :heart: :heart:
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Simone
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Mistress of Puppets
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awwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!! :heart:


That was THE most romantic proposal I have ever read about! :heart: Verity,don't tell me this was the proposal you got from your husband! :lol: that would be too fukken cool :horns:

Oooooh!!!! It's time for the 'Tallica Boyz :P
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Maggie- I'm glad that you liked Cliff and Jackson. I love the thought of adults beating up on their students. I'm glad you like Evan too and his proposal. It did sound romantic.

Vanessa- I decided to make Evan a gentleman to help balance out the rowdiness of the tallica boys. Tone down the testosterone a little bit.

Simone- Nah, Evan's propsoal was not the proposal that I got from my husband, but one of the proposals mentioned was. I'm not telling which one. :dance It wasn't the pissing at the toilet one thank God.


Chapter Thirteen


“Oh Geezer!” Cecily moaned as she frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “This will never do.”

Geezer looked up from where he sat licking his privates on top of the nest of pillows on Cecily’s bed. Cecily had snuck Geezer into her room when Clarisse hadn’t been looking.

Someone must have given her weed again, Geezer thought. He went back to his privates.

It was Friday night and Cecily had been shut up in her room for the past three hours getting ready for her outing with Jackson. She had no idea what to wear, and absolutely no one to help her. Cliff would be useless. Knowing him, he’d want her to wear a garbage bag with holes cut in it for her arms and legs. He actually had James and Kirk over for the day. They had a break in their hectic touring schedule, and decided to spend the afternoon getting wickedly drunk at Cliff’s house. Cliff didn’t mind, he was trying to lobby a gig for Gastropod opening for them on their massive-ass Black Album tour.

“So Cecily has her first date tonight,” James had said as he chugged a Harp beer. “I can’t believe that she’s dating.”

“Me either,” said a near sick Cliff as he fixed himself another glass of Alka-Seltzer, trying to settle his nerves from the upcoming evening.

Clarisse wouldn’t be any help either. Cecily would rather die than ask for that gold digging piece-of-shit’s help.

After trying on nearly everything in her closet, Cecily settled on a short, fuchsia colored dress, with ruffled skirt, and little cap sleeves. Emily had bought her the dress that past February to wear to Mandie’s No Boys allowed Valentine’s Day party, and had sent it from England.
She had set her long hair on curlers so that it fell down her back in loose waves, and pinned a purple flower in it. She chose a pair of big silver hoop earrings that had purple stones on them that she had actually made her self. Cecily had made a lot of jewelry in her time. It was a fun project that she had often did with Emily. The locket that her Grandmother had given her when she had first joined the family six and a half years ago was fastened around her neck as the finishing touch.

James, Kirk, and Cliff’s conversation floated into her bedroom from down the hallway. James was totally plastered out of his mind and was talking very loudly. She could hear everything that he said.

“So Lars met this new chick,” he was saying. “She’s a looker, honestly she is. The broad looks like she belongs in Hollywood. She has a really pretty face, nice ass, but kind of small tits. If her tits were just like one cup size bigger, she’d be so hot that it should be illegal. I’d steal her away from Lars. He gets plenty of other hot chicks anyway.”

“I don’t mind small tits,” said Kirk primly. “Anything more than a handful is wasted.”

“That’s because you have small hands,” snarled James.

“And you know what they say about small hands,” put in Cliff as he chugged his Alka-Seltzer.

“Fuck you Burton!” Kirk snapped. “I’m still in a band, so I get to bang millions of chicks.”

“I wouldn’t pick on Ole Cliffy too much,” laughed James as he grabbed yet another beer. He belched rather loudly.

Disgusting, Cecily thought, for the belch could easily be heard throughout the entire house. James went on

“Burton’s got the hottest chick out of all of us.” He patted Cliff on the back. “Nice work bagging a model.”

“Thanks,” said Cliff wryly.

“So is this the end of Emily?” James asked.

“I guess so,” said Cliff. “Why you ask?”

“Because I want her,” said James. “Emily had really nice tits man. Plus her hair is more of a blondish red now. I like it. She’s a fox.”

“Well you can’t have Clarisse, and you can’t have Emily,” Cliff replied. “Emily’s got some prim and proper rich dude. He’s British, so they can drink tea together.”

Cecily’s heart near stopped. She hadn’t heard anything about Emily having a new boyfriend. This was news to her.

“I’m sorry to hear that man,” said James. “Oh well. Just as long as I find a woman with nice, bouncy, titties. Tittties are my life. That’s all I care about. I can marry her, she can stay at home, I can go out on the road, and just come home long enough to fuck her.”

Tittties are my life, flashed through Cecily’s mind. James Hetfield was good for three things: coming up with badass guitar riffs, fucking women, and giving preteen girls ideas on how to enhance their looks. She knew what she had to do.
She swiftly made her way over to her dresser and opened up the top drawer where she kept her socks. She began to hastily stuff her bra. When she finished, she admired her new chest in the mirror. The fuchsia dress definitely looked better with a little bust.

“Almost as nice as Miss Philippa’s,” Cecily observed. She turned to Geezer. “What do you think?”

Geezer nodded his approval.

“I still look plain and drab though,” sighed Cecily as she looked at her face. “And these freckles are a curse. Once, Lars told me that my freckles were a curse from God, and since then I’ve never cared for him. I wish I had some makeup.”

Cecily didn’t own even one tube of makeup. Emily had bought her a coconut chap stick once and that was it. Mandie wore mascara and lip gloss to school, but Cliff would never let Cecily wear any. She really did wish that she had some now. If only Miss Emily were here! She’d help Cecily with her makeup. Cecily glanced at the clock. It was six-thirty. It would be two-thirty in the morning in England right now, much too late to call Emily. It was now one of those rare instances where Cecily longed to have a mother to help her.

“If a ditz brain like Clarisse can figure out how to put makeup on, I should be able to,” Cecily said to Geezer. “I bet Clarisse has lots of makeup, or at least she seems to sure wear a lot of it. I’ll go see what she has. Surely she won’t notice if I use any.”

Cecily carefully made her way down the hall to the master bedroom, and into the master bathroom. Clarisse’s shit was strewn about everywhere, for Hildegarde the cleaning lady, hadn’t come that day. Little tubes and jars of all kinds of various shit sat scattered about Clarisse’s vanity.

“She’s such a pig,” said Cecily as she sat down. “And I always thought that my Dad was messy. All he ever does is slop toothpaste down the sink, Miss Clarisse is way messier.”

Cecily started to powder her face in an attempt to cover up her freckles. She located some pretty ash and silver eye shadow, and tried her best with some mascara. The whole idea of putting a brush that close to her eyeball frightened her a little, and she kept getting it on her eyelid. However, three boxes of tissues, forty-seven cotton balls, ninety-six curse words, and two hundred Q-tips later, Cecily had very nicely done makeup. She was just finishing up her lipstick, which was a fantastic shade called “moonlight pink” (whatever the hell that is), when a voice shouted

“You’re in my things! What the hell are you doing going through my things?”

Cecily whirled around to see Clarisse standing in the bathroom doorway, with her hands on her hips.

“You’re using my makeup!” Clarisse squawked. “I never gave you permission to even look at my makeup, let alone use it!” She grabbed the lipstick out of Cecily’s hand. “This is a designer lipstick!” she barked. “This cost me twenty-five dollars! It’s not for little kids to use playing dress up!”

“I’m not playing dress up!” Cecily returned hotly. “I’m going on a date.”

Clarisse took one look at Cecily and scowled. The kid had done very good for a first time makeup job, after all, Cecily was used to painting things. She did have on a little too much blush though. Clarisse began to furiously wipe it off of Cecily’s cheeks.

“You have on way too much rouge,” she scolded. “Even a circus clown wouldn’t wear this much.”

“I’m sorry,” Cecily mumbled sadly. “It’s just that I don’t have a mother to help me with my makeup. I don’t know anything. Would you help me Miss Clarisse? Please? I really want to look pretty.”

“It will take much more than makeup to make you look pretty,” Clarisse snarled. She noticed Cecily’s instant bosom. Her eyes went wide. “Cecily,” she squawked. “Did you stuff your bra?”

Cecily decided to change the subject. “Please,” she begged. “I know nothing about putting on makeup. My Dad doesn’t know beans about makeup either. It’s not like he’s in Kiss or anything. I’ve always wanted a mother to show me how.”

“Well I’m not your Mommy, and I’m never going to be a Mommy to you,” snapped Clarisse. “When Clifford marries me, I’ll be his wife and his wife only. I’m not going to be no mommy to some kid that’s not even his.”

“I am too his!” yelled Cecily. “He adopted me fair and square!”

“He was probably stoned and drunk when he did it,” quipped Clarisse. “If he was in his right mind he would have never of done it. Now you had no right to go through my things, and use my makeup! Lord knows how much of it I will now have to throw away.” She gave Cecily a rather nasty shove right off of her vanity bench.

“I hate you Clarisse!” Cecily sneered angrily.

“I hate you even more!” shot Clarisse as she began to chuck any bit of makeup that Cecily had used into the trash. “Hundreds of dollars of makeup contaminated because of you!”

Cecily held back her tears. She did not want to ruin her stellar eye makeup job. She went running down the hallway, and smack right into James.

“Whoa there baby!” he said as he caught her. James didn’t even recognize her. He assumed that she was some friend of Clarisse’s. He smiled at her. “You’ve ran right into Papa James,” he said. His eyes went straight to her boobs. “You got anything going on later tonight sugar?” he asked, ogling her. She had to be about fifteen. A doe. A pristine, young, innocent, doe, just ripe for plucking. He started to go hard.

“Mr. James,” said Cecily. “It’s me, Cecily.”

James’s eyes went wide. “No fucking way!” he gasped, turning red. He had just accosted a fucking eleven-year-old! “But you have, you have,” he couldn’t say it, for Cliff and Kirk had strolled into the hallway to see what was going on.

“Hands off of my daughter!” Cliff yelled.

“Well I can definitely tell that she isn’t your real blood daughter Cliff,” remarked James. “She’s way too fucking beautiful. Jesus!”

Cecily turned around to face her Dad and Kirk. Both gasped at the sight of her. “Don’t I look pretty Daddy?” Cecily asked as she twirled around.

Cliff didn’t say anything. Cecily didn’t look pretty, she looked absolutely beautiful, and he didn’t know if he liked that. His eyes went straight to her titties. He couldn’t help himself. Tits were tits. However, that morning when he had taken her to school, Cecily had been wearing a Misfits T-shirt and Cliff was positive that Misfits shirt sure as hell didn’t have any titties popping up from under it. Cliff knew a lot about tits. They didn’t just suddenly grow over an afternoon. Was Cecily wearing one of those Wonder Bras?

At her Father’s silence, Cecily’s face fell. If her own Dad didn’t think that she looked pretty, who would? “Dad,” she said again. “Don’t you think that I look pretty?”

For an answer, Cliff just fumbled around for a cigarette. Clarisse strolled into the room, quietly standing in the corner. “Dad?” Cecily said again.

“You look absolutely gorgeous Cecily,” Kirk said sincerely as he took her hand and kissed it. “Like a true princess.”

Cecily blushed, for she had always had a bit of a soft spot for Mr. Kirk. “Thank you,” she said shyly. However, the approval that she really wanted was Cliff’s.

“You’re hot as fuck Cecily,” James said eloquently.

“Shut the fuck up Het!” Cliff snarled.

“Don’t you like it Daddy?” Cecily asked again. She took his hand. “Don’t you think that I look pretty?”

Cliff turned to face his daughter. The ash colored eye shadow made Cecily’s eyes appear very green, and they looked much bigger. She looked as if she could easily pass for fourteen, maybe even fifteen.

“Take it off,” he said flatly.

“Yeah,” said James. “Strip for us Cess!”

“I said shut up James!” Cliff snarled. He turned back to Cecily and cleared his throat. “Cecily,” he said sternly. “Go to the bathroom, and wash that shit off of your face.”

“But Daddy,” Cecily whined. “It makes me look pretty.”

“No,” said Cliff. “It makes you look ridiculous.”

“Oh come on Cliff,” Kirk put in. “She looks really beautiful. Let her go as she is. Jackson will love it.”

“When you have your own daughter you can let her waltz around looking like a fucking circus horse!” Cliff snapped at him. “But my daughter will not walk around with shit smeared all over her face.” He lit a cigarette. “And what the fuck did you do to your chest?”

“They’re tits Cliff,” responded James. “You know. Your favorite thing.”

“Not on my daughter they’re not,” Cliff retorted. He took a puff on the cigarette. “If you had had tits like that this morning, I would have noticed,” he ranted. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing,” Cecily replied innocently.

“She stuffed her bra Clifford,” Clarisse answered. She came out from her corner, and to Cecily’s horror she yanked the socks right out of her bra, right in front of her Dad and his Metallica friends. Eye makeup or not, Cecily couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. She was humiliated.

“Not only did she stuff her bra,” Clarisse went on. “But she also went through all of my makeup without asking, and even ruined some of it.”

“I didn’t ruin any of it!” Cecily yelled.

“Cecily!” Cliff barked. “You had no business going through Clarisse’s shit. You will wash your face, and apologize to her immediately.”

“Never!” Cecily screamed. “All I wanted was a mother to help with my makeup, and show me how to look pretty!”

“You don’t need to look pretty Cecily!” Cliff snapped.

“I’m a girl Dad! I want to look pretty! I like things like makeup!”

“Well I’m sorry that I could never find you a mother,” Cliff snarled. “I guess that I alone was never good enough for you. Now go wash that shit off and apologize to my girlfriend, or else you’re not going out with Jackson tonight.”

Clarisse gave Cecily a sly smirk as she leaned against the wall.

Cecily fell to her knees right in front of Cliff and grabbed on to his hand. “Daddy,” she wailed. “You can beat me until every morsel of my body is black and blue, and I won’t be able to sit down for a week. You can keep me locked up in my bedroom, and only feed me a diet of leeches and toads. You can slowly break each one of my fingers with a piece of illegal whalebone, but please, please, don’t make me apologize to that horrid woman!”

“Cecily, I have had quite enough of your bullshit,” Cliff quipped. He took a drag on his cigarette. “Go to your room. It’s too late to call him, but when he shows up I’ll have to give Jackson your regrets.”

“Daddy no!” said Cecily.

“Then apologize to Clarisse,” Cliff said firmly.

“Absomotherfuckinglutely not!” Cecily cried.

“Then get your ass to your room!” Cliff snarled.

“This is better than watching Crossfire” remarked Kirk. “All we need is some popcorn!”

“I can’t believe that you’re siding with Clarisse!” Cecily shrieked. “Why does she always come before me?”

“She doesn’t Cecily,” said Cliff. “I gave up an evening with her to take you to a play.”

“Well then fuck you!” snapped Cecily. “Go off with your nineteen-year-old fuck toy! I don’t care!”

“Cecily Virginia!” Cliff bellowed, dropping his cigarette. He cornered her back into the wall. “You will not speak to me in that tone ever again! I’m your Father and I don’t deserve that!”

“I bet that my biological father would let me go,” Cecily quipped. “I bet he would let me go, and he wouldn’t make me apologize to some slut, and he would let me wear makeup because it makes me feel pretty.”

Cliff was seething with anger. “Your real biological father doesn’t give two shits about you Cecily,” he snarled. “The day that your biological father pays me back the thousands in child support that he owes me for taking care of you is the day that he can start telling you what to do. Until then, you’re stuck with me. Now quick acting like a fucking gutter whore and get to your room!”

Cecily burst into tears, and fled to her bedroom, burying her face deep into Geezer’s smelly fur.

“Wow,” said Kirk. “That was some drama.”

“Any of you want a near twelve-year-old daughter?” Cliff asked as he lit another cigarette.

“No Man,” responded James. “That was the best kind of birth control ever. Fuck. I might even get myself snipped after watching that.”

“I’m so sorry Clifford,” Clarisse said as she went over and started to rub Cliff’s shoulders. “She’s being an ungrateful brat if you ask me. Don’t you wish that you had never adopted her?”

“No!” Cliff snapped. He pulled away from Clarisse, and went over to the window.

“She did look beautiful Cliff,” Kirk sighed. “She really is a pretty girl.”

“Yeah,” Cliff admitted as he gazed out of the window. “She did look very pretty tonight.”

“I’ll say,” muttered James as he glanced down at his rock hard dick. “I’m going to have to go into the bathroom and take care of myself.”

Just then, Jackson’s mother pulled up in the driveway. “Shit,” Cliff growled as he ground out his cigarette. “The boy’s here.”

Jackson had gotten all cleaned up for the occasion. His hair was still shaggy, but he had washed and conditioned it until it shone. He wore jeans with a navy blue blazer, a nice dress shirt, and a tie. He was holding a big bouquet of purple flowers, wrapped in purple ribbon. Cliff opened up the door before Jackson could even ring the bell.

“Hi there Mr. Burton,” he said nervously. “Where’s Cecily?”

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“No Man,” responded James. “That was the best kind of birth control ever. Fuck. I might even get myself snipped after watching that.” :lol: That actually reminded me of something. Me and my friend were once asked to take care of 6 year old daughter of her mother's friend. After spending three long hours with her we called her 'contraceptive kid' :lol:
But back to the story:
Poor, poor Cecily :( being totally humiliated in front of her father, James and Kirk by Clarisse surely hurt badly... I feel really sorry for her... :( Cliff should carry this out differently :angry
I wonder what will Jackson do now :wacko:
And James..... he's such a pig :lol: :lol:
Can't wait for more! :heart: :heart:
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That woman can go fuck herself :angry She is an evil, horrid woman and Cliff better come to his senses. She'd be better off with James anyway, they'd understand each other. It's not Cecily's fault she doesn't know how to put on makeup, and Cliff totally humiliated her :( Poor Cecily
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aww damn!! Cliff is such a dick!! how could he listen to that shit-eating whore more than his OWN adopted daughter??? :angry

This is just like Father Of The Year!!! Only I think it's better :D

:horns: :heart: :horns2
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Thank you so much. I am glad that y'all are still interested in reading this.

Maggie- Contraceptive kid was funny. :lol: :lol: I know some kids just like that.

Simone- I am thrilled that you like this one better

Vanessa- Yeah, Clarisse needs to go fuck herself.


Chapter Fourteen


Cliff came home very late that night. After sending a very disappointed Jackson home, he and Clarisse had gone out for their romantic dinner of overpriced gourmet pasta. Clarisse was just as happy as a clam. For the first time ever, Cliff didn’t even mention Cecily once during dinner. It was refreshing to talk about something other than what his little brat was up to.

He was wearing his precious, beloved, Ojibwa suede blazer with the fringe. Clarisse began to play with the fringe on his jacket. She’d definitely be changing his wardrobe soon. He dressed like a Native American cowboy hippie. What the hell was the matter with the glorious Miss Emily letting him go around dressed like that?

“We’ve nearly had the perfect evening,” she said as they made their way back inside the house.

“Perfect my ass,” Cliff growled. “It was teenage puberty drama central here tonight.”

“Oh Clifford,” Clarisse gushed as she began to slip the dreaded suede jacket off of him, revealing an equally as dreadful Blue Oyster Cult T-shirt. “I’m sorry that Cecily is causing so much trouble for you,” she said. “You poor thing. You were so young when you adopted her. You practically gave up your life.”

“Oh please Doll Face,” Cliff laughed. “Even after adopting Cecily, I’ve done plenty of hard living. I just don’t want Cecily to ever be that way. I want her to be better than me. I never want her to end up waking up next to some dude whose name she doesn’t even know, with a tattoo on her ass that she doesn’t even remember getting.”

Cliff was referring to the time that he and James had gotten wickedly drunk one night after a concert in Charlotte North Carolina. They had polished off a full keg of Jagermeister, and were so plastered that they both also chugged a full gallon of strychnine to go with it. They had stumbled down to a seedy, little, tattoo parlor, and had gotten tattoos on their asses. Cliff’s said “Best,” James’s said “Friends.” It was cute at the time, especially when being obliterated by Jagermeister and strychnine.

“Well you certainly better keep an eye on her,” said Clarisse as she played with Cliff’s hair. “Wearing all of that vulgar makeup and stuffing her bra.”

“It’s partly my fault,” said Cliff. “And James, Lars, and Kirk’s. All they think about are titties, and she’s had to grow up thinking that way.”

“Come on Baby,” Clarisse said as she tugged on his arm. “Let’s fix ourselves a nice bath, I’ll massage your neck just the way that you like it, and we can make this night perfect.”

“I’m sorry Clarisse,” Cliff replied as he pulled away from her. “I’ve had a really long, shitty, day. I’m real tired. I just want to do a hit of grass and go to sleep.”

Clarisse’s mouth dropped open. Cliff never turned down sex. He could be lying on his deathbed with the bubonic plague, and he’d still want a quick screw. What the fuck?

To Clarisse’s dismay he made his way down the hallway to Cecily’s room. Even when he was so fucking angry with her that he couldn’t even speak about her, he still had to go check on her, and make sure that she was warm and safe in her bed. He always checked in on her at night no matter how drunk or stoned he was. One time, he had even made an entire car load of strippers wait outside while he ran to go check on her.

As Cliff made his way down the hallway he noticed that Cecily’s light was off. He slowly opened her door, and made his way into her dark room. She was there lying in her bed, fast asleep. She had cried herself into a deep and what looked to be a rather restless sleep. Her makeup was still on, but smeared from all of the crying. She was also still in her fuchsia dress. She was using Geezer as a pillow.

She knows not to bring him inside, Cliff sighed to himself. He had put Cecily through enough for one day. He wasn’t going to throw Geezer outside tonight, for he looked very comfortable himself propped up in Cecily’s bed. What Clarisse didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

He took the colorful quilt that sat folded at the foot of her bed, and covered her up with it so that she wouldn’t get cold during the night. Then very carefully, he leaned over and kissed her head before tiptoeing off to his own room.


***
The tips of Cecily’s finger were absolutely raw from all of the scrubbing and the biodegradable cleaning supplies that she had been using. Blood and deep lacerated sores covered her hands. Fortunately, her fingers were so numb that she could no longer feel the pain of the wounds. Hunger gnawed deep within her stomach, for she had not been fed in two days, and even then, all she’d been given were two crackers and a moldy piece of bread.

Cecily had been sentenced to cleaning the oven. She was busy trying to scrape clean the broiler pan with a kitchen knife. Dirt was smudged all over her face, arms, and hands. She wore a ragged pair of jeans that were worn down so thin that they were like wearing tissue paper, and an old, stained, grey sweatshirt that was much too large for her, and filled with holes. Her shoes were gone, and her long, filthy, hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail with a bandana around it to try and keep it somewhat clean. She was only allowed a shower once every two weeks. She was so hungry that the gnawing from down in her stomach crept up into her head, giving her a massive headache as she scrubbed.

There were some pieces of dried trout skin stuck to the pan. As Cecily scraped the pieces off, she began to stuff them into her mouth. They tasted gross. They tasted like charbroiled ass, but at least it was some sort of sustenance in her stomach.

“Cecily! You little worthless no good piece of shit!” Cliff snarled as he sauntered into the kitchen. He was dressed in his favorite pair of bellbottoms and Misfits T-shirt, with a pair of cowboy boots, his cowboy hat, and his infernal, ugly, tan suede, Ojibwa blazer with the fringe. He made his way over to her.

“You’re stuffing your face eating the dried trout skin off of the broiler pan!” He angrily roared. “No wonder you haven’t finished cleaning the oven yet!”

“I’m so sorry Daddy!” Cecily cried as she spat out the trout skins at once.

“Don’t call me Daddy!” Cliff snapped as he slapped her across the face. Cecily was already too broken to even cry out. She was used to him smacking her. “Remember,” he went on as he lit a joint. “I’m no longer your Daddy. I unadopted you. You are now to address me as Mr. Burton.”

“Mr. Burton!” cried Cecily. “Please take me back as your little girl! Please! I’m sorry that I put on makeup, and stuffed my bra. I just wanted Jackson to like me!”

Just then, Jackson with his bass case strolled into the room.

“Hiya Mr. Burton,” he greeted. He didn’t even look at Cecily.

“Hey Jackson,” Cliff greeted as he handed him the joint. Jackson took a hit.

“Nice spliff Teach,” he said as he oozed out a trail of smoke between his lips.

“Cecily rolled them,” Cliff replied. “It’s about all that she’s good for.”

This sent Cliff and Jackson into cascades of laughter. “Hey Jackson,” Cliff went on. “Do you like Cecily?”

“Hell no!” Jackson laughed. “Why would I like a plain, boring, flat chested, scullery maid like her? Nobody likes Cecily.”

“That’s my boy!” said Cliff as he cruelly put out his joint right on Cecily’s neck.

“Daddy!” Cecily screeched.

Cliff knocked her upside the head. “You don’t do squat all day!” he ranted. “The least that you could do is be my human ashtray! Now get off your no good ass and finish cleaning the stove. Then you can scrub the kitchen floor, take out the trash, clean the basement, and draw Clarisse her bath.”

“Clarisse?” Cecily repeated.

Clarisse strolled into the room. She was dressed in a short, bright red dress, with matching red lipstick. She wore her blonde, perfectly straight hair down, with a diamond tiara perched upon her head. She also had a huge sparkling rock upon her ring finger. She went right over to Cliff and placed her arms around his neck. He started kissing her, but stopped when he noticed Cecily staring at them.

“I told you to get back to work!” he barked. “Or else I’m going to ship you off to an orphanage because not even your own mother wants you!”

“Maybe Miss Emily would want me,” Cecily wistfully sighed.

Cliff snorted. “Miss Emily don’t give a fuck about you. She’s off banging some powerful, rich, British dude.”

Lars, James, and Kirk strutted into the kitchen.

“Hey Burton!” Lars called. “Damn, you sure do have a hot looking wife.” He kissed Clarisse’s diamond adorned hand. “It’s a good thing that you got rid of that homely and practical looking poser daughter of yours.”

“Oh yes,” Kirk agreed. “She totally doesn’t fit in with your family at all. She’s not nearly pretty enough.”

“Her mom was a whore,” put in James. “That’s probably the only thing that the kid is good at. Too bad she doesn’t have nicer tits.”

They all collapsed into laughter.

“Guys!” Cecily yelled. “Stop it! Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. I have feelings too.”

“No one gives a shit about your feelings Cess,” Cliff snarled.

“You’re just like a piece of furniture,” added Lars. He tossed his hair and took off his designer sunglasses, as he threw his two thousand dollar leather jacket at her, as if she were a coat rack. “She’s a lousy maid. She hasn’t even offered me a drink.”

“That’s just disgraceful!” Cliff yelled. He smacked her again. Cecily’s eyes filled with tears. “Daddy,” she moaned.

“It’s Mr. Burton!” Cliff corrected her.

“If she were one of my servants I’d tan her ass with a whip,” said Lars. “Smacking them don’t do shit Burton. You got to beat them. Beat them until they bleed.”

“Maybe I will,” Cliff replied thoughtfully.

“What’d I do to deserve this?” Cecily wailed. She went over to Cliff and fell to her knees at his feet. “Please Daddy! Take me back!”

Clarisse kicked her in the face with her high heeled shoe. “Fortunately for Cliff when he met me he saw the light,” she said snidely. “I made him realize just how much of his life he’d been wasting taking care of you.”

“Damn right,” agreed James. “Cliff had to even cut back on his weed intake because of you.”

“He only adopted you because it looked good in the eyes of the media,” said Kirk. “He never really wanted you. After all, all you are is living proof that your Mom fucked some other dude!”

“We really should send you to the orphanage,” snapped Clarisse. “You’re a lousy scullery maid!”

“Not only is she a lousy maid,” said Cliff as he wrapped both of his arms around Clarisse. “But she was also a lousy daughter.”


***

Cecily awoke with a jolt. Sweat prickled throughout her entire back, neck, and forehead. Her heart was pounding. It took her a moment to grasp her surroundings. She was still in her pretty fuchsia party dress, earrings, and shoes even. Geezer was snoring like an old sleeping moose by her side. She was in her own bed, in her cozy lavender and cream bedroom that had posters of everybody from Jim Morrison and the Misfits, to The Lady of Shallott and Guinevere on her walls. What really comforted her was the quilt. She didn’t remember putting it over her, for she had cried herself to sleep. Her Dad must have done it. He must have come in to check up on her, and that meant that he still loved her, didn’t it?
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Wow, that was a disturbing dream :( Poor Cecily :( I hope Cliff comes to his senses, maybe he can give Clarisse to James, I'm sure she'll like him better, he has more money :rolleyes: , disgusting whore :angry
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What a horrid dream Cecily had :ugh: That shows how much earlier situation hit her :( . I was soo happy when she woke up and noticed the quilt :D ... She should know that Cliff loves her over all. He just has to stop listening what his dick says :P And I agree with Vanessa, Clarisse is a disgusting whore :angry
Awesome!!! (as always) :heart: :heart:
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Thanks so much. Here is some more dribble for you.
Now I must go do something with the chaotic mess of my new house. Hopefully someday I will find my bed to sleep in again. :dance
Oh well, at least it's very slowly getting organized. But I'm still not finished with my Christmas shopping. I can do that Christmas Eve right? :lol:



Chapter Fifteen

It was drizzling rain the next morning and it rather fit Cecily’s somber mood. She climbed out of bed and dressed in her jeans, and a San Francisco 49ers jersey. She had to put Geezer back outside before Clarisse or her Dad noticed. As she dressed she started to smell the aroma of bacon drifting in from the kitchen. That must mean that someone was awake. She doubted that Clarisse would be making bacon. Could it really be her Dad awake this early? Saturday was one of the days that Cliff didn’t have to get up to take Cecily to school. He usually never got up before one in the afternoon on weekends.

“Come on Geezer,” she said as she opened her bedroom door. “Dad can kick my ass since I let you inside for the night. Oh well. I’m used to him bitching at me now anyway.”

As Cecily made her way into the hallway, she saw a most wonderful sight. The guest room door was open and the bed was unmade. Usually, the guest room was only used when Cliff had friends over that drank too much and couldn’t drive home for the night. Cliff hadn’t had anyone over last night. Cecily went inside the room. Sitting on the bedside table was a Ziploc bag of fresh weed, a bong, a lighter, and a CD of Strauss’s Death and Transfiguration.

Cliff had slept in that room last night! Cliff and Clarisse had slept in separate bedrooms! The very thought made Cecily’s heart sing with happiness. Sitting underneath the CD case was another strange sight, especially since Cliff was bumbling about possibly marrying Clarisse. Cecily found a photograph of Emily. It looked as if Cliff had taken it himself. It was taken somewhere near the bay, and had to have been taken sometime within the past year, because Emily’s hair had been lightened instead of the darker shade of red that it had been in the past. What on earth was Cliff doing keeping a picture of Emily by his bedside when he was supposed to be with the perfect Clarisse?

Cliff was standing in the kitchen frying bacon. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to be eating bacon. Clarisse always said that it was bad for him. Cliff wasn’t fat, but he had gained about ten pounds since his early twenties. He no longer got the skinny jokes that he used to have to put up with. Still, Clarisse reminded him everyday that he was thirty now, and that would mean that he’d have to work extra hard to keep up with her ultra sexy bod. He definitely shouldn’t be eating bacon, but he was frustrated with Cecily and her raging hormones. He was also frustrated with Clarisse. He was getting the vibe that Clarisse had no desire to become friendly with Cecily at all. Would he be able to live with the two girls hating each other so?

Cecily and Geezer entered the kitchen.

“Hi Cess,” Cliff said glumly. “Hey Geezer boy!”

To Cecily’s surprise, Cliff didn’t scold her for letting Geezer inside the house. As a matter of fact, he even gave Geezer a piece of bacon. She also noticed the waffle iron sitting out on top of the kitchen counter. Perhaps it was a peace offering? After last night, Cecily wasn’t even sure if waffles and horror movie fest was even still on.

“You want some bacon Cecily?” Cliff asked.

“You know that I don’t like bacon Daddy,” answered Cecily.

“Oh yes,” said Cliff. “You don’t eat anything fun.”

“I do too,” said Cecily. “If it were up to me, I’d eat cheesecake every morning for breakfast.”

“And then you wonder why you don’t shit right,” Cliff grumbled.

He smiled at Cecily. He liked seeing her in jeans and a football jersey. He liked seeing her in that much more than seeing her in makeup, with her bodice stuffed. She looked like his little girl again. He playfully flung a bit of greasy bacon at her. It landed in her hair.

Cecily shrieked. “Daddy!” she yelled. She peeled the bacon out of her hair and handed it off to Geezer, who gratefully intercepted it. She pointed to the waffle iron. “Are we still having waffles and horror movies tonight?” she asked.

“Of course,” answered Cliff. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“I thought you didn’t like me anymore,” replied Cecily. “After all, I’m sure Jackson doesn’t.”

“Jackson’s fine,” said Cliff. “I just told him that you didn’t do too well on your last math exam, and that until you brought your grade up, you couldn’t go out. He said that he’d call you sometime this weekend to talk.”

“Really?” Cecily asked, hoping flooding into her soul. “He doesn’t know that I stuffed my bra?”

“No Cecily,” Cliff replied. “Just promise me that you won’t pull any shit like that ever again.”

“I just wanted to look pretty,” said Cecily as she gave Geezer a pat.

“You did look pretty,” Cliff said as he poured more oil into his frying pan. “You looked absolutely beautiful last night, but you don’t need to wear all that icky makeup shit in order to look pretty Cecily. You’re pretty without it.”

“You really thought that I looked pretty last night?” Cecily asked, finally getting the approval that she so desperately sought.

“I sure did,” Cliff answered. “A whole hell of a lot prettier than the chicks that I was banging as a teenager.”

Cecily smiled. “Than how come you didn’t tell me that last night when I asked?”

Cliff put down his spatula and looked at her for a few moments, the only sound coming from the grease crackling away in the frying pan. “You looked so grownup,” he said finally. “I don’t want to see my little girl grow up so fast. I miss telling you Misfits stories and shit.”

“You can still tell me Misfits stories,” said Cecily. She gave Cliff’s hair a tug. “I don’t mind Daddy.”

He was just about to turn around and hug her when the phone rang. Cecily sprinted over to get it. Maybe it was Jackson.

“Hello?” she said.

“Cecily dear!” exclaimed the familiar British sounding voice on the other end.

“Mom!” Cecily exclaimed.

Cliff dropped his spatula. Cecily could tell that he knew that it was Emily.

“I’m surprised that you’re awake so early on a Saturday morning over there,” said Emily.

“Daddy and me are both awake,” said Cecily. It was too bad that Cliff was standing right there frying bacon, or else she would have told her that he still kept her picture with him. That would bring Emily back to San Francisco for sure.

“That’s a wonder,” replied Emily. “Cliff up before noon on a Saturday? That new girl of his must be a good influence.”

Cecily wished that she could tell Emily that Cliff had slept in a different room, but she couldn’t, not with Cliff standing there. “Hardly,” she replied instead.

“Well I have some wonderful news to tell you about,” Emily went on.

Cecily wondered if it would have anything to do with this mysterious rich boyfriend that she had heard about. It very well did.

“Cecily dear,” Emily began. “I met someone.”

Cecily was quiet, so Emily carried on. “His name is Evan Fitzgerald, and he’s a corporate attorney. I’ll have to send you a picture of him. He’s absolutely dreamy.”

“Dreamy?” asked Cecily.

“Who’s dreamy?” Cliff muttered from over by the stove.

“I’ve been seeing him on and off for a while,” Emily explained. “This winter after I left your Dad, we started having an exclusive relationship.”

At least Emily was coming clean about this new boyfriend dude of hers. Cecily was beginning to wonder why Emily had never mentioned him to her.

“He can’t wait to meet you Cecily,” Emily added.

“I can meet him this summer,” Cecily replied. She was happy that Emily had finally told her, but she wasn’t thrilled that she had found someone else. It would be even harder for her to get back together with Cliff if another boy was in the picture.

“And that’s another thing I must talk to you about,” said Emily happily. “Cecily, I need you to come over here in July, for at least two to three weeks.”

“July?” Cecily asked. She was hoping that she could go in June, right after school got out. “I was hoping to come see you earlier in the summer,” she whined. “You know that we always go to White Rock in July.”

“Oh shit,” said Emily. “I forgot all about White Rock.”

White Rock was a summer beachfront home that Cliff owned with James. The two had bought it with the money they had made from the Monsters of Rock tour with Van Halen and Dokken. Every summer usually for the month of July, Cliff and James would stay there and spend their days at the beach drinking, sailing, fishing, having cookouts, and doing more drinking. It was the perfect way to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city, and it was one of Cecily’s favorite places in the entire world. She always looked forward to summers at White Rock. James just loved owning beachfront property, and Cliff loved all of the Native American history that was associated with White Rock.

“Maybe you guys could go to White Rock early?” said Emily. “I absolutely have to have you with me on July seventeenth.”

“July seventeenth?” Cecily repeated. “What’s on July seventeenth?”

“Geezer Butler’s birthday of course!” said Cliff, as if it should have been deemed a national holiday.

Cecily gave Cliff the finger, and turned her back to him. “What’s on July seventeenth?” she again asked.

“I need and want you to be my maid of honor,” Emily replied.

“Maid of honor,” Cecily repeated.

“Evan and I are engaged!” said Emily. “We’re getting married on that date.”

“Married?” said Cecily.

“Who’s getting married?” Cliff asked. To Cecily’s horror, Cliff picked up the phone in the other room so that he could listen in on the conversation.

“Evan proposed to me the other night and it was so romantic,” Emily elaborated. “He took me up in this hot air balloon, and we had champagne, and he had these luminaries.”

“Luminaries?” said Cecily. “Hot air balloon? That does sound divinely romantic.”

“Fuck this!” Cliff snarled. “Hot air balloons are cheesy as fuck!”

“Oh really Cliff?” said Emily. “I’m sorry, but I’d much rather be proposed to in a hot air balloon, than standing in my bathroom while you piss all over the toilet seat.”

“I don’t piss on the toilet seat,” Cliff testily shot. “I’ve been very good about that lately. And I’ve given you some rather nice proposals in my day.”

“Yeah,” said Emily. “Too bad you never followed through on any of them. Anyway, I need Cecily to be my maid of honor.”

“Ain’t she a little young?” Cliff asked. “Shouldn’t she be a flower girl? She never got to be one at any of our weddings.”

“And who’s fault is that?” asked Emily. “I’m not the one who kept getting cold feet, and sleeping with the strippers. Cecily is very, very, very, dear to me, and I love her very much. I want her to be standing right up there with me when I marry Evan, as my maid of honor.”

“Evan?” Cliff snorted. “His name is Evan? Sounds like a pimp daddy name.”

“I knew a man out in Vegas who ran a cheap escort service that was named Cliff,” said Emily. “So you can shut your fucking mouth!”

This kind of sounds familiar, thought Cecily.

Emily continued you on. “I was thinking that Cecily could come in a week or two before the wedding so that she could help me with some of the details. I always loved making jewelry with her, and having her help me design clothes. I’d love to have her help with the wedding.”

“How come you don’t want any of my help?” Cliff asked in an offended tone.

“Because I want to wear a veil, not a Native American pow wow headdress on my head as I walk down the aisle,” snarled Emily. “I also want to walk down the aisle to something timeless like Trumpet Voluntary. Not Black Sabbath.

“I think walking down the aisle to Black Sabbath would be pretty hot,” said Cliff.

“But Daddy,” Cecily cut in. “You’re not a big black shape with eyes of fire.”

“He’s just as evil,” Emily quipped. “And for someone who is supposed to be my ex, he’s sure taking a lot of interest in my wedding ceremony. I don’t even know if Kirk would show this much interest.”

“He’d fucking have pink and orange balloons and doves and shit all over the place,” Cliff groaned.

Emily sighed, and went on with the ceremony details. “The wedding is to be at seven o’clock on a Friday evening,” she told Cecily. “The ceremony is going to be at St. Paul’s Cathedral on Ludgate Hill.”

“Ooooh,” Cliff shot sarcastically. “You’re getting all churchy on us.”

“Shut the fuck up Cliff,” shot Emily. “The reception will be held at The Dorchester Hotel in London. I’m going to be having a bridal tea there the day before, as well too.”

Cecily was overwhelmed. She wasn’t sure what to say. Already, Emily’s wedding sounded absolutely gorgeous. There was just one problem: it wasn’t to Cliff.

“July isn’t that far away,” Cecily stammered.

“I know,” said Emily. “I have so much to do. Fortunately I already have a dress since I’ve been proposed to like forty billion times already. Hopefully this time around, I’ll actually get to wear it. You’ll need a dress too Sweetheart. I’m thinking about using the colors champagne and apricot. I wish that we could go dress shopping together, but you’ll need to already have your dress before you come over here. We’ll round you something beautiful to wear, I promise.”

“But you’re in England,” Cecily whined. “How can you help me pick out a dress from half a world away? I have no one to go shopping with.”

“Can’t Cliff’s little young chickie bimbo help you?” Emily asked.

“Hey!” Cliff snapped. “Don’t talk about Clarisse that way.”

“No,” answered Cecily, ignoring Cliff. “I’m positive that Clarisse would much rather be doing other things than helping me find a dress.”

Cliff didn’t jump in to Clarisse’s defense. How could he? Cecily was right. He could hardly get Clarisse to sit at the same dinner table as Cecily, let alone take her dress shopping.

“I’ll help you find a dress Cess,” he offered.

“Oh god Cliff,” Emily groaned. “She’ll show up in a denim vest with bellbottoms and go-go boots, or some deerskin pow-wow outfit.”

“I’m perfectly capable of buying Cecily a nice dress,” Cliff retorted. “I did buy her that nice, purple, dress, the one with the swishy skirt.”

“That’s because I helped you with it,” said Emily flatly.

“I’m able to dress my own daughter Emily!” Cliff snarled, and then he got off of the phone, and went back to his disgusting bacon.

Cecily talked with Emily for a few more minutes going over details before hanging up the phone.

“I can’t believe that she’s actually getting married,” Cecily announced.

“Humph!” Cliff snorted. “I wonder how long that one will last.”

Cliff had suddenly transformed into a foul, foul, mood.

“It sounds simply heavenly,” Cecily breathed. “I want to get married, and have a reception at a glorious hotel someday.”

“You can get married when you’re forty-six,” Cliff said bitterly.

“They’re getting married on Geezer Butler’s birthday,” said Cecily. “Isn’t that sweet?”

“All it does is get in the way of Geezer’s birthday celebration,” Cliff snorted.

“Oh Daddy!” laughed Cecily. “It’s not like Sir Geezer Butler himself invited you over to his house for birthday festivities or anything. It’s just a normal day.”

“It is not!” squawked Cliff. “Humph! Emily getting married indeed!”

“What’s it to you if she gets married?” Cecily asked. “You have Clarisse. What on earth do you still need Miss Emily for?”

Cliff stared blankly down into the frying pan. He didn’t answer.

“Daddy?” Cecily asked, waiting for him to say something.

“Watch the bacon Cecily,” Cliff ordered. “Don’t let it burn and shit.” He turned to leave the room.

“Where are you going Daddy?” Cecily asked.

Cliff didn’t answer as he made his way down the hall to the guest room, and shut the door. Cecily got her answer a few minutes later when the sweet smell of fine grade pot drifted through the hallway, and into the kitchen.

He’s getting stoned before noon again, thought Cecily. Could it really be that my Dad is still in love with Miss Emily?


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Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Oooh, Cliff still loves Emily :heart: White Rock sounds like a great place, and it looks like Cliff might be coming to his senses :nanner: It's great that you did another update, keep going :horns2
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Simone
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OMG!!!!!!!!!!


Now I can definately classify this as waaaaaay better than Father OF The Year and it seems it's getting better and better

I really hope Clarisse heard everything...and she could fucking pack her bimbo model-on-URanus shit and go the fuck away!!!!!!!!!!!

Damn Ver...Now I can't wait to get here tomorrow to read the next chapter! :lol:
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