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Daughter of the Year; Ze Sequel to Father of the Year
Topic Started: December 14, 2007, 12:15 am (11,158 Views)
Battery
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Some Kind Of Monster
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I feel sorry for Cliff now... He really seems to still love Emily :( And he's starting to think more soberly about Clarisse, yeah!
Aaand he's damn funny when he's jealous :lol:
:heart: :heart:
And good luck with finishing Christmas preparations :)
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Maggie- I didn't do any Christmas shopping today. I'm going to be one of those frantic last minute Christmas Eve shoppers. :( But my house isn't mass chaos anymore. It's getting there and tonight is going to be the first night that I get to spend there. :dance


Vanessa- You'll find out more about White Rock later. And it is beautiful. We'll see where it goes.

Simone- I'm so happy that you like this sequel better. That makes an author very very satisfied.




Chapter Sixteen

“They’re here! They’re here!” Kirk Lee Hammett yelled as he danced out onto the front porch of Aunt Josephine’s villa.

Cliff ran around to the passenger side of his car to get the door for Clarisse. A sullen looking Cecily climbed out of the backseat.

“There’s the Cecily that I’m used to seeing,” Kirk remarked as he ran to give Cecily a hug. She was dressed in a nice skirt, but she didn’t have on makeup, nor was her bra stuffed.

“You mean drab and ugly?” Cecily asked.

“No,” Kirk replied. “I mean good and wholesome.”

Today was Meet the Parents day for Clarisse. Cliff had set it up for her to have dinner with his parents and Aunt Josephine at her fabulous villa. Somewhere along the planning, Aunt Josephine had decided to invite Cliff’s old Metallica buddies for dinner as well. She always liked to have huge dinner parties. The more the merrier.

“Oh my Clifford!” Clarisse gasped as soon as she caught sight of Josephine’s villa. The old coot must be loaded. She had always remembered Cliff saying that Aunt Josephine had said that he was her favorite nephew. Perhaps when she croaked she’d leave a hefty some of change to Cliffy. “Whatever did she do to make this much money?” she asked.

Cliff shrugged. “In all honesty, I really don’t know. Nobody knows. Some say that she was once a famous stage actress. Others speculate that she was involved with the mob for a while. After all, she did sleep with Frank Sinatra. I like to believe that she was a spy for the government.”

“Guess what Cliffy,” said Kirk as he danced around him like a child out of a Charles Dickens novel. “Brunhilda made a goose. A big, juicy, plump goose, that has to be at least as big as Cecily.”

“Whoa there Hamster!” said Cliff as he and Clarisse made their way towards the front door of the villa. “It’s just a goose. It’s nothing to blow your load over.”

Cliff and Clarisse made their way inside. Clarisse fell into complete, speechless, awe over Aunt Josephine’s crib. There was a long, winding, marble staircase, and an extravagant chandelier that sparkled and nearly danced from the ceiling. It would be the perfect place for Clarisse to host parties for her super model friends. It was a much better place than Cliff’s house which had been junked up with his Native American shit, nasty daughter, and foul smelling dog.

Mr. Burton was over by the bar fixing Cecily a colorful drink loaded with cherries. Cliff caught a bottle of Jim Beam in his hand.

“Dad,” Cliff said. “Don’t turn my daughter into a drunk.”

“Why the hell not?” asked Mr. Burton. “She’s more fun that way.”

He winked at his granddaughter and offered her a cherry. When Cliff had first adopted Cecily, his Dad had been kind of distant to the girl, and uninvolved. At the time, he felt that the last thing that Cliff needed was a little girl to look after. The boy could barely look after himself. Why the hell should he be caring for some kid that wasn’t even his own? But over the years, Cliff had proved to be somewhat responsible, and Cecily had grown on him. Now he adored his granddaughter.

“I can’t condone my daughter drinking,” said Cliff. “Well except for wine with dinner, but that’s just because Jesus does it in the Bible.”

Mr. Burton turned to Cecily. “Your Dad is an old coot,” he said. “He’s no fun.”

“Fuck you!” Cliff snarled as he flipped him off.

“And you wonder why your daughter does that to you,” Mr. Burton scowled.

Just then, Clarisse came into the room. Mr. Burton dropped the full bottle of Jim Beam that he was holding. It hit the ground and shattered flooding the floor with the sweet, rosy, smell of bourbon whiskey.

“Fuck Dad!” Cliff yelped. “You just wasted an entire bottle of good Jim Beam.”

“Not really,” said James as he got down on all fours and began to lick rum up off of the floor. “Come on Cecily and help. You’ll get some booze.”

“That’s gross Mr. James,” said Cecily.

“No it’s not,” James retorted. “There’s like a three second rule when shit falls on the floor.”

“James,” Cliff snapped. “I’m not going to have my daughter licking carpet. Now get up.
You look asinine.”

“I’ll be god fucking damned,” said Mr. Burton as he gazed at Clarisse like a fifteen-year-old boy let loose inside of a sorority house, taking in every detail of her beauty, and immediately going hard.

“Dad, this is Clarisse,” Cliff said proudly. As he strut her about in front of his Dad, he could see that Lars and James were just pea green with envy over the trophy woman that he had won. Clarisse was his reward. His reward for living in a shitty smelling, cramped, bus with three other sweaty guys for most of the duration of his twenties, and eating nothing but Heineken and candy corn for dinner.

Mr. Burton bowed and kissed Clarisse’s hand. “I’m enchanted to meet you my dear,” he said. “Either you’re after my son’s cash, or my son has the best fucking cock on the planet, because I just don’t understand what a beautiful, young, maiden like you sees in him. He’s an aging hippie with a daughter.”

“I am not an aging hippie!” Cliff shot.

“You’re right,” replied Mr. Burton. “You’re not a hippie. Anyway,” he went on turning to Clarisse. “Welcome to the family. May I fix you a drink?”

“I wouldn’t mind a fizzy water with a dash of gin,” Clarisse ordered as she plopped down on one of the bar stools. “Cecily!” she barked as she pointed to the sea of Jim Beam on the floor. “Clean up this mess.”

“I didn’t make the fucking mess,” Cecily sneered. “I ain’t fucking cleaning it.”

Cecily left the room to go find her great aunt, and grandmother. Hopefully they wouldn’t be misled by Clarisse’s beauty. As much as she adored her grandfather, he was admittedly a dirty old man. He would even go down to the beach on Sunday afternoons to just sit and watch bikini clad teenagers play volleyball.

Mr. Burton lit a cigarette and offered one to his son which Cliff accepted, since Cecily had left the room. “I’m proud of you so,” he said. “Even prouder than the time you were nominated for that little producer award thing.”

“You mean a Grammy?” said Cliff.

“Yeah, whatever you call it,” replied Mr. Burton. “Nice work my boy. That chick of yours is sexier than an eighteen-year-old virgin in a bathtub.”

“That’s what I said,” put in James. “I’d drink her bathwater. Hell, she’s so hot I’d bathe in her shit.”

Clarisse blushed, and plastered a fake grin onto her face. God, she hated Cliff’s stupid friends. They were almost as bad as his asshole, foul mouthed, daughter. “Thank you James,” she said falsely.

“No,” James replied. “Thank you for looking so god damn beautiful. I could fucking stare at you for hours.”

“She’s a work of art,” put in Mr. Burton, gazing at her tits. “The good Lord smoked the good stuff the day that he made you.”

Clarisse had been having quite enough of James and Cliff’s horny, old, father. “Clifford,” she whispered. “Make them stop.”

Cliff had been enjoying all of the attention that his woman was getting. He would have to put a ring on her finger as soon as possible. Then he’d really be able to enjoy other people ogling her, since then she’d fully belong to him.

“Oh Clarisse they’re just admiring your beauty,” Cliff said with a shrug. “You’re smoking hot.”

“Your Dad is making me uncomfortable,” Clarisse hissed.

Cliff sighed. Clarisse was so fucking touchy lately. Big fucking deal. His Dad was a horny, old man who liked to look at younger chicks, and sneak off to the X rated movie theatre. Cliff had apparently inherited those traits, or else he wouldn’t have even been with Clarisse in the first place.

“Dad,” he said as he patted him on the back. “Knock it off. Why don’t you go take a nice, cold, shower or something?”

“Aye yes,” said Mr. Burton. “Now I get it. You two want to fuck.” He furrowed his brow. “How come James gets to watch and I don’t?”

“Oh Cliffy!” Clarisse shrieked. “Your Dad is a disgusting pig!” She got up from her stool and left the room.

“Dad!” Cliff shrieked. “Now look what you did.”

“Don’t worry about it son,” said Mr. Burton as he made himself his fourth gin martini of the night. “You can make up later. Make up fucking is always some of the best. She’s a little touchy ain’t she? That British broad that you were banging never minded a bit of humor. Fuck, she’d mudsling right back.”

“Dad, that British broad is Emily,” Cliff sighed. “Get her name right.”

He didn’t know why he was so concerned with Emily’s name. After all, she was engaged to someone else and wasn’t coming back.

At that moment Jason Newsted meandered into the room holding a white Russian. Aunt Josephine was right behind him. She had given him the grand tour. “You can use my hot tub anytime,” she was saying. “That goes for the horses, pool, tennis courts.”

“Gee, thank you Miss Josephine,” Jason replied.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Cliff growled at Lars and James.

Jason had taken Cliff’s place. Cliff didn’t mind Jason. In fact, he had spent a good solid month giving him coaching on playing all of his bass parts when he came and took over.
Even though Cliff had left Metallica voluntarily, he couldn’t help but feel a few tiny pangs of resentment towards Jason, sort of like how Dave Mustaine felt against Kirk, but much less intense. Cliff didn’t think that Jason should be having dinner at his great aunt’s house, and given free rein over her villa.

“Aunt Josephine invited everyone in Metallica over to dinner,” Lars replied as he helped himself to the top Scotch shelf, not caring that he was taking the last glass in someone else’s home. “Jason is in Metallica.”

“I don’t fucking know him,” Cliff grumbled. “He could be a serial killer.”

“He’s not,” answered James. “He just always puts his empty soda cans back in the refrigerator instead of throwing them away. It’s a little annoying.

“And he habitually always uses the last sheet of toilet paper on the roll and never replaces it,” added Lars.

“Hey!” squawked Jason. “What is this? Gang up on Jason day?”

“That’s everyday,” cackled Lars and James.

“That’s enough boys,” said Aunt Josephine. “You’re always welcome here Jason, anytime. Feel free to stay in any of my guest suites for as long as you’d like. And please, call me Aunt Josephine.”

Cliff was about to puke. Why didn’t his aunt just go ahead and open up a fancy hotel for heavy metal musicians? To this day, Lars, James, and Kirk always brought over their cream of the crop chickies to Aunt Josephine’s for the sauna, hot tub, goose down pillows, a fully loaded fridge, and very well stocked bar.

“Gee Aunt Josephine,” snorted Cliff as he chugged his beer. “Why don’t you give him the keys to your Rolls Royce?”

“Because Barnabas can just drive him wherever he needs to go,” his aunt replied.

Cliff grumbled something along the lines of “fuck you” and sauntered out of the room. He wasn’t the only one that was feeling sulky.

Cecily had met up with her grandmother, who was in the kitchen keeping Brunhilda company as she prepared dinner. Mrs. Burton could tell right away that there was something not right with her little granddaughter.

“Cecily darling,” she said. “You seem upset. What’s wrong dear?”

Cecily sighed. “My Dad is screwing a nineteen-year-old,” she announced.

Mrs. Burton spat out the wine she was drinking. “What! Clifford told me that she was twenty-five.”

“He lied,” answered Cecily. “She just turned nineteen.”

“Good Lord!” gasped Mrs. Burton. “What could a young thing like that see in him? She’s only but a child.”

“Tell that to Dad,” said Cecily.

“I was really hoping that he would marry that Emily girl,” put in Brunhilda. “She was so sweet, and she and Cliff looked great together.”

“We need to get her back,” said Mrs. Burton. “Even if I have to buy that girl a plane ticket myself, and fly her back over here.”

“There’s no point in it,” said Cecily wistfully. “Emily is already engaged to someone else. Some rich guy who proposed to her up in a hot air balloon.”

“Oh my!” gasped Mrs. Burton. “That does sound romantic.”

“He had champagne for her and luminaries,” Cecily added. “They’re getting married this summer.”

“That’s so soon!” Mrs. Burton exclaimed. She sadly looked down into her glass of wine. “I guess that means there’s no chance of her and my Clifford getting back together.”

Cecily broke down into tears. “No,” she wailed. “There’s not. I’ll never have my parents back together again! Emily will live in England where I’ll hardly ever get to see her, and Dad will marry that despicable Clarisse!”

“Oh Cecily!” Mrs. Burton said gently as she took the girl into her arms and smoothed out her hair. “Clarisse can’t be that bad. I’m not that thrilled about her age, but she can’t really be that bad.”

“She is Grandma!” cried Cecily. “She’s just horrible and I hate her! I don’t care how great she is in the sack or how nice her ass looks in hot pants, I hate her guts, and I will never accept her even as my stepmother….”
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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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Last few seconds of internet time before New Years so -
i
Just want you to know I have caught up with this and as always it is totally incredible! It's been dramatic, made me laugh - I couldn't believe when Emily accepted the proposal and --- at least Cecily has Mrs Burton on her side!

I'm super glad that the Metallica boys are back again and at least they could appreciate Cess trying to look nice in makeup!

Run out of time, but just to say - Happy Christmas have a wonderful one - you're a skilled and talented writer dar and Happy New Year!
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Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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At least someone in the family has some sense :rolleyes: Mr. Burton sure is a dirty old man :wink , don't blame him, though. And Clarisse is such a prig, maybe she should hook up with James, at least he doesn't have any kids. And the fact she was checking out the house :wacko: , greedy, money-grubbing bitch :angry
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Battery
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Some Kind Of Monster
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“Not really,” said James as he got down on all fours and began to lick rum up off of the floor. “Come on Cecily and help. You’ll get some booze.” :lol: :lol:

Mr. Burton was both gross and hilarious :tardlol and Clarisse was mean and disgusting as always :angry . I loved when Cliff was concerned over Emily's name... :D
Great, great chapter!! :horns2 :heart:
good luck with shopping, don't let stress eat you :huggie:
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Maggie- Thanks so much. I did get my Christmas shopping done thanks to the gift card. :lol: I just have to wrap everything and then I'll be done.

Shayi- Have a wonderful holiday. :angel
I can't wait to you return from your holiday and write us more stories. Happy New Year and Christmas to you too!

Vanessa- Clarisse and James would make quite a pair, but you will see shortly why that can't happen. :dance



Chapter Seventeen

It didn’t take long for Clarisse to show her true colors in front of Mrs. Burton and Aunt Josephine. They could totally understand what Cecily was talking about. It was evident that Clarisse not only didn’t give two shits about Cecily, but she also chose to practically ignore the girl. Mrs. Burton couldn’t believe that Cliff would even keep someone around who was so intolerant of his daughter.

They were sitting at the dinner table. Dinner had been a pretty jovial affair. Mr. Burton and James were absolutely wasted, and wanted to sing drinking songs. The conversation revolved around Metallica’s worldwide tour and whirlwind success. Cliff, Cecily, and Clarisse, didn’t have much to say. They mostly just focused on their food. Cliff was also starting to get plastered as well.

Once they had finished their dinner, Aunt Josephine let Jason ring the little silver bell that told Brunhilda to come in and clear away their dinner dishes, and bring them dessert.

“How come he gets to ring it?” Cliff snapped.

“Because Jason is a guest,” Aunt Josephine answered. “He’s a brand new guest in my home, and I say that he can.”

“Bullshit,” Cliff mumbled as he violently stabbed at one of his peas with his fork,

“What are you so pissy for?” demanded Aunt Josephine. “You’re pissier than a mother hen with PMS.”

“Emily is getting married,” Lars announced, knowingly instigating trouble by bringing up some other chick in front of Clarisse, but he didn’t care. Trouble meant drama, drama equaled fun.

“Fuck off Lars!” Cliff snapped.

“Dude,” said Lars matter-of-factly. “You’ve been banging the chick for six years. It’s plenty alright to have some issues with her marrying some other dude. After all, you’re home base puss is gone.”

“Emily was always just a temporary fixture in Clifford’s life,” shot Clarisse. “He was feeling lonely so he kept her around, and even went out and adopted a kid.”

“Cliff didn’t adopt Cecily because he was feeling lonely,” cut in Mrs. Burton sternly. “He adopted her because he loves her.”

“That’s right,” Cliff said drunkenly. “And she likes the Misfits too. Watch this,” he turned to Cecily as if she were a seal pup at a three ring circus. “Hey Cess, when’s Glen Danzig’s birthday?”

“June 23, 1955. He was born in Lodi New Jersey, at approximately three fifty-five in the afternoon,” Cecily answered automatically.

“See what I mean?” Cliff sloshed as he planted a drunk, wet, kiss right on Cecily’s head. “Ain’t she a doll?”

“I’m sure that Emily will have a lovely wedding,” said Aunt Josephine. “I hear she’s getting married at a Cathedral in England, and having the reception at a really nice hotel.”

“Ooooh,” Kirk sighed. “It does sound rather lovely. I should call and see if she needs any help with the minor details. Planning a wedding can be quite daunting, and I’ve had professional experience.”

“Kirk, your wedding was a disaster,” said Lars.

“That’s because I didn’t have any say in it,” Kirk explained. “It doesn’t matter anyway because that marriage didn’t last. If I ever get married again, I’m definitely going to wear the pants when it comes to the wedding plans.”

“I thought that your wedding was rather nice,” Jason said ass kissingly.

“Oh Lord no Jason!” shot Kirk. He ran his fingers through his silky mane of inky black curls. “One of the foremost rules of wedding etiquette was broken. My ex insisted all of my groomsmen and I wear white tuxes.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Jason asked as he finished off his white Russian.

“Don’t you know?” Kirk snapped, looking at Jason in disbelief over how dense he was being. “Tis a cardinal sin to wear white after Labor Day.”

“Oh,” said Jason. “I guess if I ever get married again I’ll remember that.”

“I’ll remember that too Cliffy,” Clarisse hinted. She gave Cliff a look. He seemed more interested in opening up another beer for himself, than talking about any possible wedding. She went on. “I’ve always wanted to be a winter bride,” she said. “With the colors gold and red, and pine trees all over the place.”

“Who the fuck would want to get married in the winter time?” Cecily quipped sullenly. “None of the flowers are in bloom, everything is dead.”

“It won’t be your wedding to worry about!” snapped Clarisse. “Unlike Emily, I have a lot of friends. I won’t need you to be my maid of honor.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want to,” shot Cecily.

“Girls!” cut in Kirk. “Let’s be nice to each other. Make honey.”

“Go suck your dick Kirk!” Clarisse snarled.

“Dude, is that even possible?” Jason asked.

Everyone just stared at him for a moment. He went back to his white Russian.

“Actually,” Clarisse went on to Cecily. “I wouldn’t have any use for you in my wedding.”

“She could be a junior bridesmaid?” suggested Kirk.

“Oh yes,” Cliff nodded. “Cess would make a very pretty bridesmaid indeed.”

“It’s my wedding Cliff!” Clarisse snapped. “I will have who I want as my bridesmaids.”

“You can’t cut Clifford’s little girl out of the wedding!” Mrs. Burton yelped. “She’s his daughter!

“Yeah,” said Clarisse. “That might be well and good, but she’s not my daughter. She can attend the ceremony, and that’s it. I don’t want kids at the reception either. They hog up the dance floor jumping around.”

“Clifford do something!” Mrs. Burton yelled.

“What?” Cliff replied, looking up from his beer.

“You’re not going to allow your daughter to attend your own wedding reception?” Mrs. Burton asked.

“Chill out Mom!” Cliff laughed as he downed his beer. “Y’all are arguing over a wedding that might not even happen.”

“Just what do you mean by that?” Clarisse snapped.

“Doll Face,” Cliff stammered as he drunkenly looked into her eyes, and put his hand over on her leg. “I ain’t even proposed to you yet.”

***

That next Tuesday Jackson told his mother to pick him up late from his bass lesson so that he could hang out with Cecily after his lesson. It was the perfect time for the two to hang together because Cliff always had other students to teach, and couldn’t hover over their every move like an army drill sergeant. He had ordered Clarisse to keep an eye on them, but she was busy redecorating the house and spending money as if it were going out of style.

Contrary to Cliff’s belief even though they were alone, Cecily and Jackson weren’t fucking each other’s brains out. They sat on opposite ends of the living room sofa. Cliff had Jackson so paranoid about getting Cecily pregnant, that he was afraid to even look her in the eye. He also wasn’t quite sure what to even say to her. He wasn’t used to being around girls alone.

“School gets out for the summer soon,” he said nervously.

“Thank God,” said Cecily. She was doodling around with her sketchpad working on the finishing touches of her Lady of Shalott picture.

“You got any plans for the summer?” asked Jackson.

“I’m going to England in July,” Cecily answered. “And in June we’re going to White Rock.”

“You’re going away in June?” Jackson asked, disappointment entering his face. He’d been hoping on finally being able to actually go out on a date with Cecily sometime during the summer, when there weren’t any school tests and grades to get in the way. “But that’s only like two weeks away,” he whined.

Cecily nodded. “We’re going to leave right after school gets out for summer.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Jackson. “Where the fuck is White Rock? Mr. Burton, I mean your Dad mentions it a lot, but I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s one of the most beautiful places in the world,” answered Cecily. “It’s about three hours south of here right on the coast. You won’t find it on any map. It’s one of those places that if you were to blink while driving through, you’d miss it. There’s just a little sign that says White Rock. It mostly refers to this hunk of white limestone that’s about a mile out in the water. The Apache Indians used to canoe out to it and leave presents and offerings to the gods there. I think that’s why Daddy likes it so much because he’s into Native American culture now. Anyway, there’s this dirt road that leads down to the beach. They’re a couple of houses right on the water, and my Daddy and Mr. James own one of them.”

“You mean James as in James Hetfield, right?” Jackson asked.

Cecily nodded as if it were commonplace for people to own oceanfront property with the lead singer of Metallica.

“Shit,” Jackson murmured.

“This year I have my own camera, so I’m going to take lots of pictures of it,” said Cecily. “I have some sketches and paintings that I did though.”

Cecily leapt off of the couch and grabbed a big, bulky, portfolio folder that was overstuffed with all sorts of papers and shit. She brought back over to the couch, and sat down just a little teensy tiny bit closer to Jackson. She took out several beach and ocean front pictures.

“I sketched these from the porch at White Rock,” Cecily said proudly.

“Holy shit!” Jackson exclaimed. “These are really good sketches. Damn. My Mom would frame these and hang them up on her wall.”

Cecily’s eyes began to dance. “These are only sketches,” she said. “I did do actual acrylics of them. Miss Emily framed them for me and they’re hanging up in the kitchen and living room at White Rock.” She shifted through the sketches. “Here’s one of the white rock itself, and here’s one of our house.”

“Fuck,” Jackson muttered as he leaned in closer to her to get a better look, his shaggy tendrils brushing up against Cecily’s face. “You drew that?”

Cecily nodded.

“No shit. You’re very talented,” said Jackson. “And that’s a really nice crib, especially for just a summer home.”

“On nights when it’s warm, Daddy let’s me drag out a mattress and sleep on the screen porch,” said Cecily. “It’s very peaceful. You can even hear the waves.”

“Sounds awesome,” said Jackson. “It sounds like you’ll have fun.”

“You want to know what else?” Cecily went on.

Jackson had never heard her talk so much before. Cecily was chattering at a mile a minute. “What?” he asked.

“The house across the street is haunted,” said Cecily. “They’ve had several murders there. You’d have to ask James about it. He knows all of the history. On some nights, he and Daddy build a gigantic bonfire. We roast marshmallows, the adults smoke pot, and James always tells the story of the haunted house.”

“Pot, marshmallows, and ghost stories,” replied Jackson. “Sounds like a good time to me.”

“Ask James about the haunted house,” Cecily reminded him.

Jackson chuckled. He hated to break it to her, but he was a fourteen-year-old nothing bass student. He didn’t even know James Hetfield. “If James Hetfield and I ever have lunch together, I’ll ask him,” he replied.

Cecily turned red, but only for a moment. She got the most fantastic idea.

“Maybe you could come with us to White Rock?” suggested Cecily. “Daddy usually lets me bring a friend. We have plenty of extra space. We can go to the beach, or canoe up to the rock, or even go fishing.”

“Fishing,” repeated Jackson. “You fish Cecily?” he sounded impressed. Cecily Burton was getting cooler by the minute.

“When Daddy takes me,” Cecily answered. “When I was little, we used to go a lot, but he’s been really busy lately. Whenever we’re at White Rock we always get up and go fishing together in the morning. I’m sure that you could come along with us. I don’t think that you can get pregnant from fishing.”

“I’d love to go Cecily,” Jackson replied, feeling giddy with excitement. He’d love to spend a weekend with Cecily out at White Rock. It sounded simply heavenly. Plus, he’d be staying at a house partly owned by Cliff Burton and James Hetfield. Fuck. He’d get to roast fucking marshmallows with James motherfucking Hetfield! It was any fourteen-year-old metal head’s dream.

“Of course I’d have to ask my Dad,” added Cecily. “Lord knows what he’ll say.”

“He might let me,” Jackson replied. “Especially if I wear a padlock or something over my dick.”

This sent the both of them into the giggles. Just then, Jackson noticed another sketch in Cecily’s folder.

“Holy shit!” he yelped. “Is that Kirk Hammett?”

“Yep,” nodded Cecily. “Afraid so. He was babysitting me one day and I begged him to pose for a portrait. I had nothing to do with the pose or outfit. It was all up to him.”

The Kirk in the portrait was decked out in a Renaissance prince’s outfit with puffy sleeves, a plumed hat with a feather, and yes, even tights. His long, spiral curly hair was a mass of charcoal colored curly cues that danced all the way down his back. He had a very well trimmed thin, black, mustache. He was standing with one foot up on a small, marble box. His left hand was placed on his hip, while his right hand was holding up a big globe of the world.

“Wow,” was all that Jackson could say. “You could sell this to Metal Massacre Magazine and make a shit load of bucks.”

“I know,” laughed Cecily. “Whenever Mr. Kirk starts to chatter to my Dad about how he needs to be doing protein packs on his hair, he always threatens him with it.”

The two fell into giggles again over poor, silly, Kirk Lee.

Clarisse looked over from where she was supervising some of the redecorating that she had going on. “You two!” she barked. “Silence!”

Cecily scowled, and flipped her off, but Clarisse didn’t notice. She had turned her attention back to her decorating.

“That Clarisse chick is a bitch Cecily,” Jackson whispered.

“She’s a super bitch,” corrected Cecily.

“She hates me,” said Jackson. “She thinks that I trampled over her fucking rose bushes, but it wasn’t me. Honestly, it wasn’t.”

“Between her and my overprotective Dad, it’s no wonder that I’m a little weird,” sighed Cecily.

“Your Dad ain’t that bad Cess,” said Jackson. “Don’t get me wrong. Cliff Burton is one fucked up, eccentric, psycho freak, weirdo, and he is a bit over protective, but it’s only because he loves you. He loves you a lot. You can just tell by the way that he always talks about you.”

“He talks about me?” Cecily asked.

“He mentions you a lot,” replied Jackson. He shrugged. “He’s proud of you. He just wants whatever’s the best for you.”

“Well if he really wants what’s best for me,” said Cecily as she closed up her portfolio. “He’ll let you come to White Rock with us…”
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That was another awesome chapter *sigh* :heart:
Do I see some chilling of Cliff's feelings towards Clarisse?! :horns2 :biggrin
Jackson is soo sweet around Cecily and he wants to go on a date with her :nanner:
White Rocks sounds so heavenly... reading about it made me miss summer...:cloud9 Wow, I hope Cliff will let Jackson go there with Cecily!
I loved Kirk's portrait! I can imagine that :lol:
And Clarisse......... :bat She's really a 'super bitch' as Cecily called her...
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Yeah, I hope Cliff is coming to his senses, even his parents don't even like him, and neither the guys in Metallica :angry Hell, even James didn't make a move on her, that should tell you something. White Rock sounds gorgeous, and Cecily's photos sound amazing :P Marry Christmas Ashley :nanner4:
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Maggie- I'm thrilled that you liked the Kirk picture. Now here's some more fun with him.

Vanessa- Thank you! Merry Christmas to you too!




Chapter Eighteen


Kirk Lee Hammett happily flounced his way up to the front door of Cliff’s house. His long, peppery locks sparkled in the late afternoon sun. He was clutching an enormous cardboard box. Part of a long strand of purple crepe paper streamer hung from out the side of it. Cecily opened the door for him.

“Hi Mr. Kirk!” she greeted as she held the door open. “It’s awfully nice of you to come and help me decorate.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Kirk replied. “Decorating for a party is what Kirk Lee’s do best.”

“I thought that playing guitar solos is what Kirk Lee’s do best,” answered Cecily.

“Well, that too,” Kirk replied as he set the heavy box down on the table.

Cecily’s birthday and tea were the next day. She wanted to keep it a small affair with just Mandie and Clemmie. She thought about inviting Jackson, but she was pretty sure that a fourteen-year-old boy wouldn’t be all that interested in tea, even if he’d be alone with three girls. Plus she was positive that Cliff would say no because there weren’t going to be any grownups around tomorrow. Clarisse was supposed to be at some modeling photo shoot, and Cliff had to host a VH1 heavy metal special with Scott Ian. Cliff hated, loathed, and despised MTV. He believed that it was the root of all evil, just like the Republicans. If you wanted to start Cliff off on a tirade, all that you needed to do was give him a cheap joint, turn on MTV, and mention the Republicans. But Cliff didn’t mind VH1. VH1 was deemed okay, mostly because their program manager set it up so that he could meet Glen Danzig. Every so often they would do television specials on heavy metal, and Cliff would host them, and do commentary on some of the videos with Scott Ian. Between the two of them, they had a lot of pretty interesting comments.

Kirk took out yards and yards of lavender purple crepe streamers, purple silk flower chains, colorful paper lanterns, strands of purple Christmas lights, several doilies, Belgian lace, three handmade fans for Cecily and her two friends, and posies of purple flowers that he had made tied with lace and purple silk ribbon. He also had brought a silk purple curtain that shimmered whenever the sun hit it. He was positive that he could find somewhere in Cliff’s house to hang it.

“My goodness Mr. Kirk,” Cecily gasped. “Is all of this for my birthday party?”

“You bet,” Kirk replied. “I don’t know any other little girls that like purple.”

“Thank you,” said Cecily as she gave Kirk a hug. “Between you and my Dad, I’m going to have the best tea party ever. Daddy even made a lemon cake with raspberry filling because it’s my favorite.”

“Did he now?” Kirk said, amused. He couldn’t imagine Cliff Burton making a plate of nachos, let alone a lemon cake with raspberry filling.

“We’ve been cooking all afternoon,” Cecily went on. “We made watercress sandwiches, deviled eggs, and chocolate dipped strawberries.”

“I have fond memories of chocolate dipped strawberries,” replied Kirk as he took a paper lantern out of the box.

“Really?” Cecily asked. “How come?”

Kirk smiled, showing his little cherub-like dimples. “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he replied. “Let’s get decorating before your Dad gets home. It can be a nice surprise for him.”

“Oh yes,” Cecily laughed. “Because my Dad just loves purple silk flowers and Belgian lace.”

“A little bit of feminism is good for him,” Kirk chirped. “It’s just good for the soul in general.”

“We’ll have to work quickly,” said Cecily. “Daddy just went out to pick up a pizza, since we’ve been busy cooking all day. He’ll be back soon.”

So Kirk and Cecily set out to work transforming Cliff’s eclectically decorated home of Emily’s girly things, Clarisse’s uber contemporary shit, and Cliff’s Native American art, into a purple fairyland just perfect for an elegant tea.

Crepe paper and silk flowers hung above every window and doorframe in the house. Kirk hung the paper lanterns from the living room ceiling, and lined the purple Christmas lights throughout the perimeter of the room. Dollies were strewn over the tables and furniture. It was easy for them to get a lot of work done because Clarisse was out as well. They had the entire house to themselves, except for Geezer, who Cecily had let inside.

Kirk and Cecily sat down to admire their work.

“I think that it looks fine enough for the Lady of Shalott herself,” observed Cecily as she looked around the room.

“Thanks,” Kirk replied, happy that his decorating job had past muster with Cecily. He looked up at the painting that was hanging up over the sofa and frowned.

“Did you draw that?” he asked, pointing to the painting.

Cecily shook her head.

“It’s as ugly as a toad fucking an eighty-year-old fat woman with genital warts,” said Kirk. “It’s not your Dad’s is it? I mean, I know that Burton has some really weird taste when it comes to fashion and shit, but I don’t think that even he could pick out something that ugly.”

“It’s Clarisse’s,” said Cecily. “He actually used to have a picture of a wolf hanging there instead. He had bought it up in Alaska. She took it down and hung up that eyesore.”

And it was indeed an eyesore. It was a fairly large painting made up of red, black, and canary yellow paint splots, with these freaky weird eye things on it. It gave Cecily the creeps. Clarisse claimed that she had bought it at some sophisticated art show in New York City, and that it had been very expensive. If someone would pay good money for that piece of shit, Cecily was certain that someday she could get good money for one of her paintings.

“She’s a beautiful woman, but she sure as hell doesn’t have any taste,” muttered Kirk as he eyed the painting. “It doesn’t really fit with our lavender garden theme.”

“It’s an abomination on society,” quipped Cecily. “I wish that we could throw darts at it.”

“You can’t do that, but I do know something that we can do,” Kirk said thoughtfully.

He approached the ugly painting, and stepped up on the couch. He reached up and carefully began to lift the abomination off of its hooks. Cecily stood behind him watching with great interest, enjoying the view of Kirk’s tight, little, ass in those black leather jeans that he was wearing. It was an ass fine enough for the god Apollo himself, as if it were molded from the finest chiseled limestone by artesian Indians.

Kirk gently set the painting on the ground, and picked up the silk purple curtain. He hung it in the painting’s place. It was so shimmery that it actually made the living room look even bigger.

“It looks like a lavender waterfall,” said Cecily as Kirk hopped down off of the sofa.

“There,” he said as he admired his work. “Now it looks ready for a tea party in here.”

Just then, they heard a car door slam. “Maybe that’s Dad!” cried Cecily. She and Geezer anxiously ran to the door “I hope he ordered cheesy bread!”

However, it wasn’t Cliff, and Cecily’s heart sank. “Oh shit,” she murmured as she peeked out of the window.

“Who is it?” Kirk asked. “It’s not the Mormons is it? Don’t let them into your home Cecily. I did that once, and I couldn’t get them to leave. They sat there reading the Book of Mormon to me for over four hours, and then they fucking came back the next day.”

“It’s worse than the Mormons,” answered Cecily. “It’s the wicked witch of San Francisco.”

Clarisse came up the front walk. Her arms were filled with shopping bags. She had been out spending Cliff’s money since he had stupidly just added her on to his bank account, and got her a credit card. Decorating for parties might be what Kirk did best, but spending Cliff’s money was Clarisse’s premier talent.

“You should let Geezer outside,” said Kirk. “It’s a shame that you have to, but I don’t want you to get in trouble Cecily.”

“I don’t really care what that old battle cunt has to say,” quipped Cecily. “She’s not my mom.”

“Cecily Virginia!” Kirk declared as he tossed his locks of obsidian curls over his shoulder. “If your Father ever heard you talking like that he’d even blush.”

Clarisse burst through the door like a whirlwind. She was covered in a cloud of shopping bags. Geezer clumsily lumbered up to greet her.

“Cecily!” she shrieked as she ignored the dog’s affection. “I thought I told you no dog in the house!”

“Gee Clarisse,” said Cecily. “I have no idea how he got in here. Maybe he climbed through the window.”

“Don’t you get smart with me missy!” Clarisse spat as she set down her bags. “That dog makes me positively ill, and I do not want him in my house!”

“It’s not your house,” Cecily retorted. “It’s my Dad’s and it’s Miss Emily’s! Her name is even on the papers, and she even paid for half of it.”

“Well Miss Emily isn’t here anymore!” Clarisse ranted. “You probably ran her off with your childish gibberish! I’m not that stupid. I can see right through you. I know what a manipulative little brat you are, and I will not let you come between me and Clifford! Now get that bag of fleas out of here!”

“Geezer does not have fleas,” Cecily said primly as she threw her arms around her dog.

Clarisse walked into the living room and frowned. “It looks like a purple nightmare in here,” she sulked.

“How could you say that?” asked Kirk. “I think that it looks like something out of A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream.”

Clarisse rolled her eyes at him. “You’re such a pansy Kirk,” she snarled. She looked right up over the couch. Something was not right. Something was missing. Her expensive painting from New York City! It had been taken down and stuffed in the corner.

“My painting!” she screeched. “You took it down!”

“Just until after the party is over,” Kirk explained. “The red and yellow didn’t really go with our purple theme.”

“I did not give you permission to touch it,” said Clarisse. Her voice started to rise into a high pitched squeal as she bitched on. “I purchased that painting at an exclusive art show in New York. It’s the only one like it in the entire world!”

“Well that’s a good thing,” said Cecily.

“I paid eight thousand dollars for it,” said Clarisse.

“You paid eight thousand dollars for that?” stammered Cecily. “Holy buckets of shit! I could have painted one just like it. All I would have had to do is just take a giant dump on a piece of canvas, and then splatter some paint colors on it.”

“You’re behind all of this!” Clarisse shouted, pointing and shaking her finger at Cecily. “This was all your doing! This picture is a part of me. It reflects who I am, but you resent me. You resent me coming to live here, so that’s why you took it down! Even though I make your Father very happy, you choose to resent me because you’re no longer the center of his attention!”

“That’s not true!” yelled Cecily hotly. “I resent you because you’re a selfish, gold digging, slut!”

“Oh you uncivilized brat!” Clarisse yelped. She was about to attack Cecily, but Kirk intervened.

“That’s enough girls,” he said as he held Clarisse back. “Let’s make peace. Remember, you catch more flies with honey, than with vinegar.”

“Oh shut up!” Clarisse snarled at him. “All you do is spout off hippie psycho babble!”

Kirk sighed. “Cecily had nothing to do with this,” he said. “It was my idea to take down the painting. I was trying to find a place to hang up that purple curtain for Cecily’s party. We meant no harm.”

Everyone had been so busy bitching at each other, that they didn’t hear Cliff pull up into the garage, and come into the house. Well Geezer did, and he greeted his master at the door.

“Hi there Geezer boy!” Cliff exclaimed as he dumped the pizza off in the kitchen. He gave the dog a playful little pat. “You shouldn’t be in here though. I’m going to have to go kick Cecily’s ass.” He let Geezer out the glass sliding door, and then wandered out into the living room. “Holy fuck!” he announced. “Am I tripping, or is this entire fucking room coated with purple?”

“It’s purple,” Clarisse sulkily replied. “It looks like someone slaughtered the purple people eater in here.”

She went over to Cliff and gave him a kiss. She thrust herself right upon him, and buried her head in his chest. “Cecily took down my favorite painting,” she whined.

“Which one is that?” asked Cliff as he gave her a hug, innocently dropping his hands down to her ass, and giving each cheek a squeeze. A wave of rabid, hot, passionate, horniness raced throughout his entire body.

“The one that was hanging up over the couch,” Clarisse moaned. “Remember? It came from New York.”

“Big fucking deal,” shot Cecily. “Daddy,” she said in a sweeter tone. “Did you get cheesy bread?”

“No,” Cliff replied. “Clarisse doesn’t think we should have it. She says that pizza is unhealthy enough for us.”

“Well it is,” Clarisse quipped as she poked Cliff in his non existent gut. “You are older now Cliff.”

“Thanks for reminding me Doll Face,” Cliff replied. He turned to Cecily and ruffled her hair. “But I did get you your favorite pizza,” he went on. “Ham and pineapple.”

“Thank you Daddy,” replied Cecily. “That is my favorite.”

“That’s positively gross,” muttered Clarisse.

“What the fuck do you care?” Cliff retorted. “You never eat pizza anyway. I personally think that ham and pineapple is pretty nasty shit too, but its Cecily’s birthday tomorrow. What the birthday girl wants, the birthday girl gets.”

“Thanks Dad,” said Cecily. “But I don’t go by your taste in pizza. You like anchovies.”

“Anchovies are good for you,” Cliff shrugged. “They put hair on your dick.”

“Well when I grow a dick, I’ll start eating anchovies on my pizza,” said Cecily.

“You better not grow a dick,” Cliff laughed and gave her a squeeze. “I like having you just the way that you are Cecily.”

Clarisse was about to puke. “Clifford!” she demanded. She cleared her throat. “Aren’t you going to do anything about my painting?”

“What do you want me to do?” Cliff replied. “Sleep with the artist?”

“She took it down without asking,” Clarisse squawked. “I did not give her permission to touch it.”

“I took it down Cliff,” Kirk cut in. “It’s just for her party. Then we’ll put it back up.”

“Cool,” Cliff murmured, and he began to head towards the other room.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?” Clarisse shrieked.

“No,” Cliff answered flatly.

“But it’s my painting!” Clarisse argued. “It’s a part of who I am! She didn’t even ask! She invaded my space.”

“Well now you know how it feels,” Cliff answered. “Maybe I miss my wolf painting from Alaska. It was painted by real Inuits. You didn’t ask me to take it down. I came home one day and it was gone.”

“Is that what this is about?” Clarisse shrieked. “That ugly thing?”

Cliff didn’t say anything. He just looked at her for a few moments, and then turned and went out to the kitchen…
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Looks like Cliff is finally showing some back bone :) Clarisse is finally showing her true colors. And yes, that painting sounded ugly as fuck, I hate modern art too. Cliff may not have the best taste, but at least his stuff looks like art. And Kirk helping out with the decorating, how typical. And yes MTV does suck, VHI Classic is much better. Did you ever watch the Rock Show on VH1? Scott Ian hosted that show, I miss it :(
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OUch! Bitch got hit where she wasn't expecting...Cliff's care for her rather than Cecily...well...that's what she thought...stupid cow...I'd boil her to death! And record her screams of pain and rewind it at her fukken funeral in my back garden! :lol:


damn I'm so evil! happy Xmas Verity!!! Hope you had a good one and no cleaning and stuff :lol: Have fun :wavey
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Lucifer's Angel
Dec 25 2007, 07:55 AM
Looks like Cliff is finally showing some back bone :)  Clarisse is finally showing her true colors. And yes, that painting sounded ugly as fuck, I hate modern art too. Cliff may not have the best taste, but at least his stuff looks like art. And Kirk helping out with the decorating, how typical. And yes MTV does suck, VHI Classic is much better. Did you ever watch the Rock Show on VH1? Scott Ian hosted that show, I miss it :(

But have you ever seen VH1 hosting The Story Of Metal??? It's AWESOME!!!!!! :horns: :heart: :horns2 last time I saw it,it lasted 3 hours...from 11pm to 2 am :lol: And they put up lots of metal in the evening,but I haven't seen it since...september :lol: I've seen it at the cabin in the mountains :horns:

I do believe MTV sucks donkey balls now...in the 80s-90s it was awesome! Mostly they would put up metal and hard rock :heart: Now they even took out Beavis and Butthead :angry
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Simone
Dec 25 2007, 09:49 AM
Lucifer's Angel
Dec 25 2007, 07:55 AM
Looks like Cliff is finally showing some back bone :)  Clarisse is finally showing her true colors. And yes, that painting sounded ugly as fuck, I hate modern art too. Cliff may not have the best taste, but at least his stuff looks like art. And Kirk helping out with the decorating, how typical. And yes MTV does suck, VHI Classic is much better. Did you ever watch the Rock Show on VH1? Scott Ian hosted that show, I miss it :(

But have you ever seen VH1 hosting The Story Of Metal??? It's AWESOME!!!!!! :horns: :heart: :horns2 last time I saw it,it lasted 3 hours...from 11pm to 2 am :lol: And they put up lots of metal in the evening,but I haven't seen it since...september :lol: I've seen it at the cabin in the mountains :horns:

I do believe MTV sucks donkey balls now...in the 80s-90s it was awesome! Mostly they would put up metal and hard rock :heart: Now they even took out Beavis and Butthead :angry

Yeah, I loved it. My favorite episodes were about Black Sabbath, and the one about thrash. The one about hair metal sucked, though. No wonder Nirvana killed them off, they were awful :angry
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Go Cliff!!! :rockdevil: Yeah!!! :biggrin
I loved Cecily's replies to Clarisse :lol: and her gazing at Kirk's ass... :tardlol
Thank you Ashley for another awesome chapter and Merry Christmas :heart:
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Maggie- I am glad that you too appreciate Kirk's ass. :dance And Merry Christmas to you too!

Simone- I'm in full agreement with you on MTV. I used to like it back when they showed videos and I LOVED Beavis and Butthead, especially when they would comment on the music videos. Fortunately I have 3 volumes of them on DVD. And I loved the Beavis and Butthead movie. :horns: And Merry Christmas to you! I had a wonderful Christmas I did nothing. :) No cleaning, no unpacking, no practicing.

Vanessa- I don't have VH1 Classic, just plain VH1 and it seems like Scott Ian is always on it talking about something. He's like the master historian. :horns: My in laws have VH1 Classic though and I have seen the history of metal a couple of times.




Chapter Nineteen

Cecily couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when she got up the next morning, her birthday. A shitty, misty, drizzle blew down from the sky. She was not going to let it ruin her birthday tea though. She had worked too hard preparing the food and decorating for it to be ruined by some stupid ass rain. She still had a few more things of flowers to set up. Nothing was going to ruin her tea.

Cecily got dressed quickly, and made her way to the kitchen. Her grandparents and Aunt Josephine were there to greet her.

“Happy Birthday Love!” said Aunt Josephine as she gave Cecily a hug. “I can’t believe it! Twelve years old already.”

“She’s real close to springing out some tits soon,” Mr. Burton observed from where he was fixing mimosas for everybody.

“I’m sorry Cecily, but you’re grandfather’s a pervert,” said Mrs. Burton as she rolled her eyes. “And an asshole.” She gave her granddaughter a kiss, and handed her a package wrapped in purple tissue paper.

“Is this for me?” Cecily asked as she took the package.

“No, it’s for that bimbo idiot twat that your Father is currently seeing,” Mrs. Burton shot sarcastically. “Of course it’s for you Cecily. Happy Birthday!”

“Thank you,” said Cecily as she slowly unwrapped the present. It was a book of containing many poems and short stories of Arthurian legend. The book had gold leaf on the edges of the pages, and beautiful illustrations, and even came with a burgundy silk bookmark.

“It has that Lady of Shiznit poem that you like in it,” said Mr. Burton proudly.

“You mean Lady of Shalott?” said Cecily.

“Same thing,” Mr. Burton shrugged. “You want a mimosa?”

Cecily’s eyes lit up. “I’d love one!” she nodded. She turned to Cliff who had just come into the room. “May I Daddy?” she asked.

Cliff looked from Cecily to his Dad. At least the champagne that he was using was the decent stuff.

“Oh come on Clifford,” said Mr. Burton. “We let you drink a little when you were twelve.”

“Oh alright,” Cliff relented. “At least you’re using the good stuff.”

“Thank you Daddy!” Cecily cried as she threw herself into his arms.

“But I’m only letting you drink because it’s your birthday,” Cliff said sternly. “Don’t think that you can just raid my liquor cabinet at any given time.”

“I won’t,” Cecily promised.

“To Cecily!” said Mr. Burton as he raised the champagne glass, and then handed it to his granddaughter. Even though it was wet and dismal outside, the sunny orange of the drink made Cecily feel as if summer had arrived already.

“Make a wish,” said Aunt Josephine.

“Yeah,” put in Cliff. “You’re always supposed to make a wish when you drink for the very first time.”

Actually, it wasn’t Cecily’s very first time consuming alcohol other than wine with dinner (which Cliff never counted). Unannounced to Cliff, James had given her a shot of Jagermeister once while she was on tour with them. The next day, Cecily had been extremely sick, and Cliff had thought that she had come down with a case of the flu, but Cecily and James knew better.

However, Cecily felt that she was certainly in need of a wish. She closed her eyes, and made her wish. She wished with every little bone in her body, that somehow, someday, Cliff and Miss Emily would find their way back together. She began to practically chug her mimosa. The sweetness of the orange juice overpowered the champagne, making the drink taste almost like orange soda.

“Whoa there Cess,” Cliff cautioned. “Don’t drink it so fast.” He pulled the mimosa away from her. To distract her from underage drinking, he handed her a big parcel from England, and an envelope that looked to be a birthday card. “Here’s your mail,” he said.

Cecily glanced at the parcel box from England. “It’s from Miss Emily,” she said happily. She tore into the box to find two new sketchbooks, a pair of shoes that resembled silvery glass slippers, some silk pajamas, three tops, a beautiful gem studded headband, and a box of fine chocolates.”

“Jesus,” Cliff muttered. “I keep telling Emily to quit fucking spoiling you.”

“You should talk Cliff,” his father shot. “You gave her a camera for no fucking reason.”

Cliff rolled his eyes. “It’s easy for her to buy Cess a bunch of shit. She’s marrying some rich dude now.”

Cecily chose to ignore Cliff as he went on some tirade about Emily’s new fiancé. In her opinion, Cliff had been the one who had fucked things up. He should have just married her years ago. She looked down at the birthday card. It was addressed from Claudia, with a very ambiguous Danish return address, though the card had been postmarked from San Francisco. Did Cliff really think that she was that stupid?

Cliff watched from the corner of his eye as she ripped open the card, gave it a cursory glance, and then threw it down onto the table.

“What was that?” he asked innocently.

“A birthday card,” replied Cecily. “Thanks Dad.”

“I didn’t send you no birthday card,” replied Cliff.

“Dad, I know that you sent it,” Cecily replied. “You’ve been sending them for years.”

“How’d you know that Cess?” asked Cliff.

“Well for one thing, the postmark,” said Cecily. “Unless Claudia happens to fly to San Francisco just to mail out her cards. And you have her exact same handwriting.”

“I’m real sorry Cecily,” Cliff said. “I just always thought that you liked to get a card from Claudia, I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything.”

“It’s alright Daddy,” replied Cecily with a shrug. “I don’t expect much from her. I just hope that at some point today, even if it’s just for a brief second, that she’ll think about me.”

Cliff was quiet. He hated to say it, but based on that one letter Claudia had written, he’d bet that Claudia never thought about Cecily, except when she was in desperate need of money.

“You don’t need her,” Cliff said as he hugged his daughter. “You have me, Emily, your grandparents, Aunt Josephine, and even Miss Clarisse. We all love you.”

Cecily tried not to snort at the sound of Clarisse’s name. Cliff went on. “I hope that you’re not mad at me. Are you?”

Cecily shook her head. “No Daddy,” she replied. “Just next year when you want to send a fake birthday card from Claudia, just be sure to enclose some money in with it.”

“Very funny,” Cliff muttered as he poured a bit of beer in with his mimosa. Beer went great with orange juice. At least to half stoned Cliffs they sure did.

“What’s going on in here?” Clarisse asked as she strolled into the kitchen. She frowned at Cliff’s aunt and parents. “What are they doing here?” she asked.

“They’re my parents,” Cliff replied. “It’s not like they’re the IRS or anything.”

“I know that Clifford,” Clarisse quipped as she rummaged through the kitchen to make herself a carrot, fig, and seaweed smoothie. “But that doesn’t answer my question,” she whined. “What are they doing here?”

“It’s Cecily’s birthday Doll Face,” Cliff replied. “Remember? Birthday tea, purple shit all over the house?”

“Oh yes,” Clarisse sullenly groaned.

“Why don’t you give Cecily her gift from you?” Aunt Josephine asked.

Clarisse turned on the blender, as the contents to her disgusting smoothie whirled around. Too bad she couldn’t cram Cecily in there. She hadn’t gotten anything for Cecily for her birthday, and she didn’t see why she should. She wasn’t her daughter to worry about, and in Clarisse’s mind, she wasn’t Cliff’s either. Have Cecily’s real father buy her birthday gifts.

“I didn’t get her anything,” replied Clarisse, as she kept her attention on her smoothie.

“What do you mean you didn’t get her anything?” demanded Cliff. “You must have. You were out shopping for hours yesterday. You brought home all of those bags of shit. Surely you picked up something for Cecily.”

Clarisse just stared at him. Was Cliff fucking serious? Did he really expect her to buy the brat a birthday present? She was twelve fucking years old. Surely that was old enough to not get gifts all of the time like a five-year-old. She did her part by tolerating Cecily. She wasn’t going to buy presents for her. “You want a carrot, fig, and seaweed smoothie Sweetie?” she asked.

“No,” Cliff replied tersely. “Scott Ian and I are going to go out for Mexican for breakfast before the interview.”

“Oh Cliff that’s so vile,” Clarisse snorted. “Mexican food for breakfast?”

“Cleans out the system,” replied Cliff. He bent over and started to whisper in Clarisse’s ear. “It would make me really, really, happy if you would at least give Cecily some sort of present for her birthday, even just something little,” he whispered.

“Why?” Clarisse hissed back. “She’s not my daughter.”

“She’s going to be,” said Cliff.

“Just what do you mean by that?” Clarisse asked, her voice getting louder. She jiggled her pristine, little, nineteen-year-old ass right in front of Cliff’s face. “Clifford Lee Burton!” she declared. “Was that a marriage proposal?”

Cecily nearly dropped her mimosa. “Daddy!” she squealed in terror, feeling immediately sick.

“Don’t worry Cess,” said Cliff. “I’m not an engaged man yet. I was just trying to get Clarisse to get you a present. Lord knows she’s good enough at spending money like a house on fire.”

“Clarisse has already given me a gift,” answered Cecily. “She’s getting out of here while I have my birthday tea.”

“That was uncalled for Cecily,” Cliff scolded.

“I’m sorry Clifford,” Clarisse interrupted. Even though he didn’t want one, she poured Cliff a carrot, fig, and seaweed smoothie anyway. She just had to get him eating better. “I’ve never had a daughter before,” she went on. “I’m young, and beautiful, and just not ready to be a mother yet.”

“I told you to buy her a present,” said Cliff. “Not take her out into the backyard and start breastfeeding her.”

“Daddy that’s gross,” cut in Cecily. “You don’t breastfeed a twelve-year-old, and you don’t breastfeed children out in the backyard.”

“Well the next time that I pop a tit out and breastfeed, I’ll remember that,” snorted Cliff.

Clarisse rolled her eyes. Cliff and Cecily were so fucking goofy together that it was just asinine. And the language that they used was revolting. She never talked like that around her father. She gestured to the carrot, fig, and seaweed smoothie she had made. “Drink that Cliffy,” she whined as she ran her fingers through his somewhat dry looking hair. “You need the vitamins. Your hair looks so dry,” she commented. “I can’t believe that you would go on TV with it looking like that.”

“Hey,” said Cliff. “Scott Ian don’t even have any hair. Well, I guess on his face he does.”
He looked over at Clarisse. Later that day she was going to be shooting for a swimsuit catalog. He was banging a fucking swimsuit model! It was a dream come true. He could at least drink her disgusting smoothie for her. He took a sip and choked it down.

“You like it?” Clarisse asked.

“It’s delicious,” Cliff choked. “Thank you.” I’m probably not going to be able to shit right for a week, he thought.

“I have to get going,” announced Aunt Josephine. She turned to Cecily and gave her a hug. “Have fun at your tea,” she said. “I left you girls a little something in the pantry.”

“Oh?” asked Cecily.

“You know that non alcoholic raspberry wine that I gave you when you stayed with me?” said Aunt Josephine.

Cecily nodded.

“I left you an entire bottle,” Aunt Josephine went on. “It’s on the bottom shelf in the pantry. I thought that you girls might like it. I would have left you the real stuff, but I’m pretty sure that Mandie and Clemmie’s mothers wouldn’t like it.”

“No, I don’t reckon that they would,” said Cecily. “But thank you! Thank you so much. Mandie and Clemmie aren’t used to drinking wine, so even the fake shit is going to seem most sophisticated to them. I’m going to have just the perfect tea today!”

“I have to get on the road too,” said Cliff. He turned to Cecily. “I’ll give you your present from me later,” he said. “Now behave yourself. I don’t want to come home to find male strippers in the house.”

“Awwww,” Cecily laughed. “I can’t have Mr. Kirk come over and strip for us?”

“Not unless you want your ass beat,” Cliff replied. “And even though Clarisse isn’t going to be home either, you can’t bring Geezer inside. Clarisse says that his smell gets into the furniture and carpet, and still lingers around every time that you bring him in.”

Cecily frowned. Cliff gave one of her long curls a tug. “They’re some of those little powdered sugar puff ball cookies in the pantry that Mrs. Hammett made,” he said. “Clarisse won’t let me eat them, so you girls are welcome to them.”

“Thank you Daddy,” replied Cecily. “May we use the rosebud spray tea set?”

Cliff looked thoughtful. “No,” he replied finally.

“Why not?” Cecily whined.

“Because I don’t feel like letting you use it,” Cliff said with a shrug. He gave Cecily a kiss. “And most importantly, don’t forget to have a good time. Happy Birthday Daughter!”





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