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| Daughter of the Year; Ze Sequel to Father of the Year | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: December 14, 2007, 12:15 am (11,157 Views) | |
| Battery | December 26, 2007, 8:28 am Post #76 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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Haha, I loved Cliff remark about Scott Ian's hair “Clarisse has already given me a gift,” answered Cecily. “She’s getting out of here while I have my birthday tea.” - Cecily rules ! Clarisse was again odious bitch So what she's a swimsuit model Cliff! She's empty!And Cecily's birthday party sounds great, I hope it won't be disturbed... :wacko: We'll see.... I can't wait for more! |
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| Lucifer's Angel | December 26, 2007, 10:17 am Post #77 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Yeah, Clarisse is such a bitch, so what if she's hot, she's a bimbo She can't be very interesting to talk to Hah, James gave Cecily Jager, poor kid Jager is so disgusting, I almost puked when I drank it And that smoothie sounds disgusting, I like smoothies, but not those type, I like the strawberry banana ones at the mall
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| Verity | December 26, 2007, 10:20 pm Post #78 |
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The Story Girl
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Here is another wee bit of drama for your dining and dancing pleasure. Chapter Twenty Cecily was excited for her party to begin. She was also glad that the awful Clarisse wouldn’t be there to ruin things. She almost was going to wear a crisp, white, sundress, but then remembered Kirk’s rule: no white until Memorial Day. She chose a pale, butter cream yellow two piece skirt and top, with the new glass slipper-like shoes that Emily had given her, along with her new headband. She was adjusting one of Kirk’s crepe purple flowers, when the phone rang. “Hello?” she said. “Hi Cecily,” said the voice at the other end. “This is Jackson.” Cecily’s stomach jolted. “Hi Jackson,” she replied in her sweetest sounding voice. “Happy Birthday,” Jackson said. “How’d you know it was my birthday?” Cecily asked. She didn’t remember ever telling him. “Your Dad has it marked on the little calendar that’s in his bass studio,” Jackson replied. “I have a card for you. I’ll give it to you when I come for my next lesson.” Cecily had never received anything from a boy before. Unless she counted that shot of Jagermeister from James. The two were silent for a few moments. Finally Cecily managed to mumble “thank you.” “I asked my Mom about going with you guys to White Rock,” said Jackson, a little awkwardly. “I hope she said yes,” Cecily said. “She did,” Jackson replied. “She may want to have a little talk with your Dad first just to make sure that it’s supervised.” “I still have to talk to my Dad about it,” answered Cecily. “He’s been kind of in a bad mood lately.” “You sure as hell got that right,” muttered Jackson. “Miss Emily is getting married in July,” Cecily explained. “I thought that he wasn’t together with her anymore,” Jackson said. “He’s not,” answered Cecily. “He’s just being a dick about it.” Jackson laughed. “What’s so funny?” Cecily demanded. “You said dick,” answered Jackson. “It’s cute when you say words like that. I really do hope that your Dad will let me go with you guys. It sounds fun.” “It won’t be as fun as it was in the past,” said Cecily wistfully. “Not without Miss Emily being there. When she went fishing with us, she used to put the worms on the hooks with her own fingers. I can’t imagine Clarisse doing that for anything.” Just then, Cecily heard a car door slam. Mandie and Clemmie had arrived. Cecily hung up with Jackson, and sprinted over to the front door. She stopped to gather herself before opening it. They had wanted to have the most proper tea possible. She straightened her dress, and opened the door. “Good day,” Cecily greeted. “Good day to you Miss Burton,” replied Mandie as both her and Clemmie trooped in out of the rain, and into the house. Both were in dresses, and were carrying presents. “Tis rather gloomy weather that we’re having,” said Clemmie, trying her best to act prim and proper. Clemmie was usually a kind of klutzy sort of girl, known for usually fucking things up. “Oh yes,” said Mandie. “It is rather dreadful.” “How is your mother doing?” asked Cecily as she took their coats. “She is doing quite well thank you,” answered Mandie. “How is your Father?” A mischievous grin came across her face. “He’s been in rather foul humor of late,” she replied. “I think the cat got his dick again.” This sent all three girls into hysterics, and it put an end to their prim and proper behavior. Cecily led the girls into the purple flowery living room. “Wow,” Clemmie breathed. “It looks gorgeous in here. Did you do this by yourself?” “No,” Cecily answered. “Kirk helped me.” “My brother is going to die when I tell him that Kirk Hammett from Metallica knows how to make perfectly symmetrical crepe paper flowers.” “It’s one of his many talents,” put in Cecily. “His mom even made us some cookies. Would you like me to go get them?” “Oh please!” shouted Clemmie eagerly, never one to turn down food. “And just wait to you see what my Aunt Josephine left for us,” Cecily went on. “Raspberry wine! It’s non alcoholic, so we’re allowed to drink it.” “Oh I’ve had that stuff before,” said Mandie unimpressed. “It tastes like cough medicine.” “Well I haven’t tried it,” Clemmie whined. Cecily made her way out to the kitchen, and to the pantry. She skimmed the shelves for the bottle of raspberry stuff. If she remembered correctly, Aunt Josephine had told her that it was on the bottom shelf. The shelves were overflowing with Heineken, Woodchuck ale, various bottles of wine, Clarisse’s soy germ packs, and more Heineken. Cecily noticed three green wine bottles on the bottom shelf. The first one that she grabbed said raspberry on the label. She had found it! Even though she had made wine at Aunt Josephine’s, she had no idea what kind of glasses to serve it in. She grabbed three generous tumbler glasses, and made her way back out into the living room. “Great Aunt Josephine’s wines are the finest in all of the Napa Valley,” Cecily announced proudly as she poured each of her friends a glass. “Even her non alcoholic stuff.” Clemmie took a sip. “Ooh,” she said. “It does taste yummy.” Mandie sighed as she took a sip. She was quite taken a back. “This is good,” she admitted. “Way better than the non alcoholic stuff that I’ve had before.” “That’s because it’s from Great Aunt Josephine’s winery,” boasted Cecily. “I forgot the cookies, I’ll be right back.” She hurried out to the kitchen to fix the cookies, the lemon cake, the tea sandwiches, and the strawberries on a tea tray. She also decided to put the tea water on. “This is really good stuff,” said Mandie to Clemmie. “It’s really smooth.” She helped herself to another glass. She knew that she should probably save some for Cecily, but since her great aunt did own a winery, she probably had lots of it anyway. “Did you know that Dennis gave me a bracelet as an end of the year gift?” Mandie asked, getting more and more talkative with every sip that she took. Dennis was her sort-of-boyfriend. “No,” said Clemmie. “Really?” Mandie showed off the cheap, piece-of-shit bracelet that Dennis had given her. He had won it out of one of those quarter machines at the movie theatre. Never the less, it was still a big deal for a twelve-year-old. “Oh Mandie!” Clemmie gushed. “It’s beautiful. I wish that I had a boyfriend.” She watched as Mandie poured herself yet another glass. “We’ll find you one,” she promised. “We also need to find one for Cecily too, but she’s going to have to drop the hats, and the talking like she’s stoned.” “You know who I think is really cute?” Clemmie asked. “Lars Ulrich. Do you think that he’s a little too old for me?” “No,” answered Cecily as she came into the room holding a tray of goodies. “At least not by my Dad’s standards. I’m half expecting him to start fucking three-year-olds soon.” “That must really suck to have a Dad screwing some chick who’s old enough to be your big sister,” said Mandie bluntly. She hiccupped. “Scuse me,” she giggled. Cecily was a little puzzled. Mandie was always a chatterbox, but it wasn’t like her to speak out so vocally against Clarisse. She knew that Clarisse was a touchy subject with Cecily. “I mean,” Mandie prattled on. “No offense to your Dad Cess, but you’d think that he’d know that she’s just after his money.” “Maybe she truly just likes his personality,” said Clemmie. “Maybe she finds him handsome.” “Clemmie,” said Mandie. “Please. You’ve seen Cecily’s Dad.” She chugged down another glass of raspberry non alcoholic wine. This time she belched. “Sorry!” she gasped, hands flying up over her mouth. “Fuck Mandie!” Cecily gasped. “That’s gross. That’s almost as loud as the one that Mr. James let out here the other day.” Mandie slumped down on the loveseat. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she murmured. “The room is spinning.” “You’re not sick Mandie,” said Cecily. “You can’t be. We haven’t even had our tea yet.” She cut her friend a slice of lemon cake. “Try some cake,” she offered. “That’ll settle a queasy stomach.” “No!” Mandie yelped. She violently pushed the cake away, knocking the plate out of Cecily’s hands. The cake spilled out onto the floor. Mandie let out a repulsive groan that sounded like a cross between a panda giving birth, and a weed whacker. “I’m so sick!” she moaned. “Help me!” “I think we should call her Mom,” said Clemmie. “But she was fine just a minute ago,” Cecily whined. “I’ll take care of you Mandie,” she said loyally. “I’ll nurse you back to health. Whenever I get an upset stomach Daddy always fixes me a hot water bottle, and gives me a bit Highland Mist Scotch. If that doesn’t work, we can always try Mrs. Hammett’s famous mustard water.” “I want my Mom!” Mandie groaned. “The room is spinning.” “What in God’s nation are you girls doing?” an angry voice demanded. Cecily turned around to see Clarisse standing there. Due to the rain, her swimsuit photo shoot had been cut short, and she was home early. “Miss Clarisse,” said Cecily. “Mandie is sick. She’s very sick. We need to get her home.” Clarisse walked over to Mandie. One whiff of the girl was all that she needed. “That girl isn’t sick!” she barked. “She’s drunk. She’s drunker than a dog. She smells like a brewery.” “Drunk!” Cecily screeched. “She can’t be drunk. She hasn’t had anything to drink.” Clarisse noticed the empty bottle sitting out on the table. “Did she drink this entire bottle of wine?” she asked as she picked up the bottle. “I had one glass,” said Clemmie. “She had the rest though.” “Its non alcoholic,” Cecily reminded them. Clarisse sighed. “You’re such a stupid girl Cecily,” she said. “Really you are. You didn’t give her the non alcoholic stuff. This is real wine. Read the label!” Cecily felt absolutely sick as she looked at the wine bottle’s label. Sure enough it read “raspberry wine” with twelve percent alcohol. For once, Clarisse was right. “Oh,” was all the Cecily could manage to say as she watched her friend fall limply onto the floor. “I’m sure that you think this is funny getting your friend drunk off her ass!” Clarisse snapped. “Well it’s not! I’m telling your Father.” “I didn’t do it on purpose!” Cecily shouted. “Honest. I just didn’t read the label I guess.” The tears were already starting to sting in her eyes. “You either did it on purpose, or else you are one of the stupidest girls in all of creation. I knew that you were often ditzy and impatient, but I never thought that you would do something this moronic,” Clarisse scolded. “I’m going to die!” Mandie wailed. She let out another groan and a belch. Clarisse stuffed the bottle at Cecily. “Here,” she grumbled. “I’m going to have to take her home. I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to her mother.” “Mandie’s mother is a strict teetotaler,” reported Clemmie. “She doesn’t even allow alcohol into her home. She’s not going to like this one bit.” Cecily started to put on her coat. “What do you think that you’re doing?” Clarisse snapped at her. “I’m going with you to Mandie’s,” replied Cecily. “I feel just awful about what happened. I have to make sure that she gets home safely.” “You will do no such thing!” Clarisse snapped. “I’ll take Mandie home.” She looked over at Clemmie and frowned. “And I guess I’ll have to take this ugly girl home as well. Since when do I run a chauffer service? As for you,” she said to Cecily. “You’re grounded to your room until I get back. Your father and I will need to discuss a suitable punishment for you. I think perhaps a boarding school is what you need. You have no discipline.” “But I didn’t do it on purpose!” Cecily cried. “If you didn’t do it on purpose, then you did it because you’re a complete imbecile!” Clarisse yelled. “You’re twelve-years-old for Christ’s sake! Grow up Cecily!” She smacked the girl across the face, leaving a red, hot mark on her cheek. “Now go to your room!” she barked. “I’ll also tell your Father that you’ve been difficult with me. He’s done a shitty job raising you. You have no respect for anyone.” At this point Mandie was near ready to pass out. With Clemmie’s help, Clarisse got Mandie out to the car. Cecily had no choice but to watch from the window. Her perfect birthday tea had been ruined, and it was all her fault. Not to mention that Mandie’s mother probably would no longer let her hang around Cecily, so she had also lost her best friend. And if Clarisse did convince Cliff to send her off to some boarding school, Cecily would also lose her father… |
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| Simone | December 27, 2007, 6:42 am Post #79 |
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Mistress of Puppets
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AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!! Not the tea party!!!!! Poor poor Cecily! Why didn't she read the label???? DARN! That bitch now has a reason to send Cess to boarding school...but Cliff won't let that happen...will he??? ![]() Can't wait for moooore
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| Lucifer's Angel | December 27, 2007, 10:05 am Post #80 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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NOOO! Die you bitch! How dare you smack Cecily *grabs baseball bat*
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| Verity | December 27, 2007, 11:35 am Post #81 |
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The Story Girl
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Now we'll see what Cliff has to say. Chapter Twenty-One “Clarisse must not be home yet,” Cliff observed as he pulled into the garage. “If she were home, the whole fucking place would be lit up like the Vegas strip. She can’t seem to conserve money anywhere, and that goes for the electric bill too. Cecily and her friends would be here though. Why the fuck wouldn’t she turn any lights on?” The entire house was completely dark, and by now it was evening. Cliff let himself inside. For a birthday party, it seemed awfully quiet. He flicked on the light. “Cecily!” he called. He noticed that all of the tea food that they had made sat untouched, even the lemon cake. Cliff helped himself to a few of the tea sandwiches and a deviled egg. He noticed the Cecily’s presents were unwrapped, so some sort of party must have gone down. He picked up one of the unwrapped boxes. The card was from Mandie. He opened it up to find one of those best friend necklaces inside. Cecily had the part that said “best.” “This thing is like those tattoos that James and I got,” Cliff stated as he held the necklace up in the air to examine it. “We should have gotten necklaces instead. Far less painful.” Since Clarisse didn’t seem to be home yet, he let Geezer inside out of the rain. Geezer began to jump all over Cliff, thankful to be back inside. “I know boy,” Cliff sighed. “I really wish that Clarisse could just get used to you. Maybe some cologne or something would help. Fuck. I can’t believe that I just said that. I just offered to put perfume on a dog.” Geezer shook his head. He’s stoned again, he thought. “Cecily!” Cliff called again, making his way down the hall. She hadn’t had a light on in the house. What the fuck was she doing? As soon as he approached her bedroom door, he got his answer. He could hear crying coming from the other side. He knocked gently. “Cecily,” he said. “Can I come in? Let me guess. You’re in the depths of despair.” “Worse,” cried Cecily. “I’m in the abyss of misery.” “Abyss of misery,” Cliff repeated. “Good name for a future metal song. Can Geezer and I come in?” Cliff didn’t wait for an answer. He opened her door letting himself and Geezer inside. Cecily was on her bed, face buried into her pillow, crying. She was in her pajamas. “Why the fuck didn’t you turn any lights on?” Cliff asked as he sat down on the bed next to her, and put his arm around her. Geezer also leapt up on the bed. “Because I didn’t want to run up the electric bill,” Cecily sobbed through tears. “Since when do you give a flying fuck about the electric bill?” Cliff asked. “I just figure that if at least I can keep the electric bill down that you’ll keep me,” whined Cecily. “Where the hell is this shit coming from?” Cliff demanded. “Cecily, what’s with you? Where are your friends? What happened to your party?” Another wave of tears came over Cecily. The girl was inconsolable. “Is this about Jackson?” Cliff asked. “Did he come over and get fresh with you? If he did, I’ll go kill him. I’ll kill the motherfucker. I’ll stuff his dick into a pair of vice grips.” “No Daddy,” Cecily sniffled. She was too choked up to even speak. Instead, she handed him the empty bottle of raspberry wine. “Fuck!” Cliff exclaimed. “Did you drink all of this Cecily?” “I didn’t,” Cecily answered. “Mandie did.” “Mandie!” Cliff cried. “That little fucker drank this entire bottle?” “Pretty much,” sobbed Cecily. “Clemmie had one glass.” “I told you not to raid my liquor cabinet Cecily!” Cliff scolded sternly. “I didn’t!” Cecily wailed. “It was a mistake. I grabbed it out of the pantry. I thought that it was the non alcoholic shit from Aunt Josephine.” The tears began to come even faster. Cecily buried her face deep into her pillow. “I didn’t mean to set her drunk. I didn’t! Clarisse is mad at me, and I’m sure that Mandie’s mother will be furious! I have lost my bosom friend!” “Your what?” Cliff asked. “Bosom friend,” Cecily repeated. “You know. A friend that you would walk to the ends of the earth for. A friend who’s lock of hair that you will always keep.” “I’m sorry Cecily,” said Cliff. “I have a tattoo with him, and I own a beach house with him, but I will never, ever, ever, ever, ask for a lock of James’s hair.” He handed Cecily some tissues. “I’ll be right back,” he said. He went out to the kitchen, to the pantry, and looked around the bottle shelves. There were two bottles of wine that looked identical except for one minor detail. One said non alcoholic on it. It was very possible that Cecily could have accidentally grabbed the wrong one. Cliff loved the girl to death, but she could be a mite empty headed at times, with her head in the clouds thinking about the Lady of Shalott, or about how God had cursed her by making her short with freckles. “Well I’ll be God damned,” he muttered aloud as he lit a cigarette. “The little fucker actually did set her friend drunk.” Personally, for some fucked up reason, Cliff thought that it was rather funny. He cut Cecily a piece of lemon cake, and grabbed the necklace that Mandie had given her and his present to her, and made his way back to her room. She was still crying. “I must say Cecily Virginia that you do have a flair for getting yourself into trouble,” he declared. Cecily just kept on sobbing. “Sometimes I think that you are my real, blood, daughter Cess,” Cliff went on as he puffed on his cigarette. For some reason, Cecily found the smell bizarrely comforting. “Maybe Claudia was one of the many whore chickies that I’ve banged back in the day,” he continued. “You know, I have a flair for getting myself into trouble as well.” “You do?” Cecily asked. Cliff nodded. “Just between you and me Cess, my driver’s license is actually suspended in the state of Nevada.” “Daddy!” Cecily squawked, forgetting about Mandie for a moment. “That’s terrible. What if you have to ever drive there? Or what happens when you renew your license here in California? They could refuse you.” “I’ll worry about that when I get my license renewed,” replied Cliff. “I might have to get Lars and James to go down to the DMV for me and sign some CDs, and suck some cock for me. Anyway, we both get ourselves into trouble.” “You’re not mad at me?” Cecily asked, feeling hopeful. “Nah,” Cliff replied. “It was a stupid mistake. You’ll have to be more careful in the future. Get your head out of your ass. You can do shit like that when you’re stoned, but not when you’re sober. But it was an accident, and an honest mistake.” He handed her the necklace from Mandie. “Don’t you want this?” he asked. Cecily shook her head. “No,” she answered. “It makes me sad. Mandie’s Mom is probably never going to let me play with Mandie again. Throw it away.” “Oh Cess,” Cliff sighed. “I’m sure that Mandie’s Mom will have sand up her snatch for a while over this. She’s kind of a bitch anyway. But I’m sure that it will pass over, she’ll forget about it, and all will be well.” “You think so?” Cecily asked. “Absofuckinglutely,” Cliff nodded, finally getting a smile out of Cecily. “How about tomorrow I’ll go over there and explain things to her, if Clarisse didn’t already. I’ll tell her that it was just an honest, child’s mistake.” “You’d really do that Daddy?” Cecily asked. “I’d do anything for you,” Cliff replied. “Even walk to the ends of the earth.” He handed her the piece of cake. “Now,” he said. “It’s my favorite little girl’s birthday today, and I think that she could use another present.” Cecily was busy stuffing lemon cake into her mouth. Her eyes went wide as Cliff presented her with a flat, somewhat heavy box. “Thank you Daddy,” said Cecily as she set down her cake and took the box. Cliff intercepted the cake, and started to eat the rest of it. Cecily slowly opened her present, but for once Cliff didn’t tell her to shit or get off the pot. He enjoyed watching her take her time. She always saved the wrapping paper and ribbon. Since Emily had left, he had lost his present wrapper, and had had to take it to Kirk. Kirk had gone all out wrapping Cecily’s gift. He had wrapped it in silver and lavender paper, and tied it with lavender tulle into a big, fluffy, bow. As decoration, he had stuck in a few sprigs of real lavender, and a small silver bell. If Kirk ever got fired from Metallica, he could easily make a living wrapping presents. His wrapping jobs were fit for the pages of Martha Stewart Living. The wrapping paper fell away from the box revealing a brand new set of oil paints. It had practically every shade imaginable. There were even five different shades of purple, and seven different shades of green. They were all neatly lined up in a wooden box with brass hinges. The top of the box held brushes. There were four brand new paintbrushes. Cecily had yet to dabble with oil paints. She had done watercolors, acrylics, and pastels, but never oil paints. Oil paints were for real artists, who knew what they were doing. “Daddy!” Cecily exclaimed. “Are these really for me?” Cliff laughed, nearly dropping his cigarette onto the floor. “No Cecily, they’re for Geezer,” he joked. “So is the art studio that’s up in the attic.” “Don’t be silly Daddy,” giggled Cecily. “There’s no art studio up in the attic. The only thing that’s up in the attic is your box of pornos.” “Hey!” Cliff exclaimed. “How’d you know about that?” “Everyone knows that,” replied Cecily with a shrug. “Well,” Cliff sighed as he put out his cigarette. “There is an art studio up in the attic, but if you don’t believe me, I could always give it to Geezer.” Cecily just stared at him. “Daddy,” she stammered. A huge smile broke out onto Cliff’s face. “Why don’t you go up there and see for yourself,” he said. Cecily just stared at him openmouthed. “Go on,” said Cliff. He gave her a little nudge. “I’ll go up there with you.” Cliff led a parade of an in shock Cecily and a very stinky Geezer up the stairs to the attic. Cliff’s attic was fairly small, but it had two dormer windows that during the day would let in quite a bit of light. It had high ceilings with rafters, and had been cleaned from top to bottom by Brunhilda. Cliff had taken some of Cecily’s paints, easels, and other various art shit, and had neatly set it up on some shelves that he had bought. He also had left her his old record player and a large stack of records. “Now you can come up here and paint your Lady of Shalott pictures,” he said as he turned on the light. “Let me know when you start painting nudes.” Cecily just stood in the middle of the attic openmouthed. Meanwhile Geezer made himself comfortable in one of the chairs. “Don’t you like it?” Cliff asked a slight sense of urgency in his voice. “Like it?” answered Cecily. “Daddy I love it! I adore it! It’s more than I’ve ever dreamed of!” “Oh honestly Cecily,” Cliff laughed. “It ain’t that nice. I just moved my pornos out of the attic, and had Brunhilda and Hildegarde come and clean.” “It’s perfect!” Cecily squealed as she jumped into Cliff’s arms to give him a hug. Cliff lifted her up off of the floor. “I even set you up with my old records,” he said as he hugged her back. “I gave you some Sabbath and some Misfits. Stuff to get you inspired while you work. When you turn fifteen, maybe I’ll leave you some weed.” Cecily smiled. “Just as long as it’s the good stuff,” she returned. “That’s my girl. It was actually Emily’s idea to convert the attic into an art studio,” said Cliff. “She didn’t think that my porno collection needed all of that space. We were going to give it to you for Christmas last year, but we didn’t have our shit together. We were fighting and shit.” “That’s the only thing keeping my birthday from being perfect,” said Cecily as she strolled over to one of the dormer windows and peeked out. “I miss Emily,” she murmured. “I miss her too,” Cliff sighed as he gave Geezer a pat. He was even surprised that he had said it. He certainly never meant to. His hand flew up to his mouth. Cecily whirled around. “Really Dad?” she asked. “I miss Clarisse too,” Cliff stammered, blushing. “She’s not back yet. She just can’t be at Mandie’s for this long, and yesterday she was out shopping for hours. Hours upon fucking hours.” He lit another cigarette. “The woman is a master of three things: wasting time, wasting money, and giving head.” It was quite late. Clarisse had been gone for nearly four hours. Cliff gave a sad sigh as he turned to Geezer. “Come on boy,” he said. “She’s due back any minute. We better get you outside so she doesn’t have a shit fit.” “Daddy,” said Cecily as she followed him out of the attic. “You’ve been so wonderful to me. I just want you to be happy too.” “I’m plenty happy Cecily,” Cliff replied. As he put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I just wish that Clarisse would get her ass home.” “Thank you for the paints and for the studio Daddy,” said Cecily. “I really appreciate it.” “It’s nothing Sweetheart,” Cliff said. “My parents did the same for me Cess. I wanted to play bass, so they hooked me up with a really sweet bass, and good teachers. Now it’s my turn to do the same for you.” “Thanks,” Cecily answered. “And thank you for adopting me.” “I didn’t have much of a choice Cecily,” Cliff chuckled. “You fucking followed me right onto the plane.” Cecily scowled. “But,” Cliff continued. “I’m very happy that you did. I’ve fucked up a lot of shit in my day, but the one thing that I haven’t fucked up, and that I’m very proud of is you Cecily. Adopting you is the best thing that I ever did….” |
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| Lucifer's Angel | December 27, 2007, 11:46 am Post #82 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Cliff is the greatest dad ever I thought he was going to get really mad at Cecily, but he was cool. Yeah, it was a dumb mistake, and his present sounded wonderful. He is such a cool dad :horns2
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| Battery | December 27, 2007, 7:47 pm Post #83 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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Poor Cecily.... She tried so hard to make her birthday party special... But it was just a silly mistake, bitch Clarisse didn't have a smallest right to smack her :horse!!! I hope Mandie's mother won't be angry with Cecily too much... But I have to say that drunk Mandie was funny as hell... Clemmie was funny too, I especially liked tihis part: “You know who I think is really cute?” Clemmie asked. “Lars Ulrich. Do you think that he’s a little too old for me?” :horns2 And Cliff.... I agree with Vanessa, he's the greatest dad ever... I totally, totally loved his gift to Cecily And he miss Emily And I love Cecily's 'abyss of misery' :horns2 Amazing chapters!!!
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| Verity | December 27, 2007, 11:56 pm Post #84 |
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The Story Girl
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I am very glad that y'all liked Cliff's gift. I had no idea what the fuck he was going to give her for her birthday, but since I yapped about her fucking birthday for like forty billion chapters I figured that it had to be something special. Chapter Twenty-Two The very next day Cliff got up around noon, smoked a joint, had a cup of coffee, and then made his way over to Mandie’s house taking Cecily with him. Clarisse hadn’t returned until nearly one in the morning. She claimed that she had stopped by a cousin’s house because she had been so upset after dealing with Mandie’s irate mother. Cliff wasn’t sure if he really believed Clarisse. Since when did she have a cousin that lived in the Bay Area? He’d deal with her later. Right now, he had a very, very, very, pissed off mother to deal with. Cliff didn’t even have to ring the doorbell, for Mandie’s mother opened the door. “You look hot this afternoon,” Cliff greeted as he held out his hand to her. Kay, Mandie’s mother, did not look amused. “I need to have a word with you Mr. Burton,” she said coldly. “Please,” Cliff said. “Just call me Cliff.” He trooped inside the house with Cecily right behind him. Kay immediately put her arm out, stopping Cecily from coming inside. “You!” she snarled at the girl. “Stay out here. You’re no longer allowed in my home, or anywhere near my daughter.” “But she’s my bosom friend,” whined Cecily. “Bosom friend indeed!” Kay snorted. “You’re no friend to her. You used her as a guinea pig in a childish prank.” “I can explain things,” Cliff said. He turned to Cecily. “Just wait out on the porch for me,” he said gently. “I’ll be back soon.” Cecily nodded, fighting once again to hold back tears. What if Mandie really believed that Cecily had purposely set her drunk as a prank? What if Mandie hated her? She took a seat in one of the whicker rocking chairs that was on the porch. She could hear Kay mumbling something about Mandie being extremely sick, and throwing up. Cecily felt terrible. If only she had taken a split second more to read things on that label just a little bit more carefully. Kay led Cliff into her husband’s study, and closed the door. “My daughter has been throwing up for hours,” she ranted. “She’s been so sick and hung over, that she can’t even lift her head up.” “I know how that feels,” said Cliff. He pulled his cigarettes out of the pocket of his suede blazer with the fringe. “You mind if I smoke?” he asked. He lit up without waiting for an answer. “Actually Mr. Burton I do,” Kay replied. “Too late now,” Cliff shrugged. “My daughter could have died from alcohol poisoning yesterday!” Kay went on. “She could have died! All because of some stupid, moronic, childish, prank of your daughter’s!” “Cecily did make a very childish mistake,” Cliff replied. He exhaled a stream of smoke, and used one of Kay’s teacups as a makeshift ashtray. “She was impatient, she was in a rush, and yeah, she fucked up. But it was an accident. We all make mistakes.” “Say they were driving in a car, and your daughter was in a rush and pulled out into an intersection of traffic,” belted Kay. “Say she wound up killing my daughter. Am I just supposed to overlook that too?” “Well,” said Cliff. “Shit does happen to good people. The reality is that Cecily didn’t kill Mandie. She gave her some fucking raspberry wine. It’s not like that she gave her hard whiskey or anything. I doubt that Mandie even came close to being poisoned.” “And you’re okay with having alcohol so easy for a child to access in your home?” Kay shot. “We don’t even keep alcohol in our house.” “Cecily has never once raided my liquor cabinet or swiped a beer out of the fridge,” Cliff returned. “She has always been very responsible. She’s mature enough to handle being around alcohol. Obviously your daughter is not.” “How can you say that?” demanded Kay. “Your daughter set my daughter drunk! My Mandie was tricked into thinking that it was non alcoholic.” “Alcoholic or not, your daughter was a gluten pig,” said Cliff bluntly. “She was a fucking guest to a party. She fucking slugged down the entire bottle. Clemmie only got one glass, Cecily didn’t get any. Maybe you should teach your daughter something about manners.” “You’re telling me about manners?” Kay exclaimed. “You know nothing about manners. You’re even smoking in my home after I told you not to.” “We’re even then,” Cliff shrugged. “Your daughter sucked down a bottle of my fine, expensive, wine.” He put out his cigarette. “I think that both of our daughters were in the wrong here. Cecily really feels bad about what happened to Mandie, and she didn’t do it to her on purpose. She would like to remain friends.” “Absolutely not!” retorted Kay. “I will not have my daughter associating with people who let their children run around unsupervised, where they can drink and do Lord knows what all!” “Well then,” Cliff returned. “It looks like you won’t be letting Mandie go off to college someday.” “I should have known better than to let my Mandie hang around under the supervision of some heavy metal person. You’re all uncivilized! The whole entire lot of you!” “Oh yes,” snarled Cliff. “Blame heavy metal. I write lots of songs about twelve-year-olds drinking. Cecily made an honest mistake. It was a mistake that Mandie could have easily made herself.” “My Mandie thinks before she acts,” scoffed Kay. “Well she didn’t think about being a gluten when she started to slug down a bottle of wine,” snapped Cliff. “You just keep your brat away from here Mr. Burton!” Kay shouted. “She’s done my daughter enough trouble. I never liked Mandie hanging around with her. I knew that she was bad news right from the start being an orphan and all. Five-years-old is way too old to be adopting a child! She was much too old for you to discipline properly.” “Cecily is doing just fine,” Cliff retorted. “Maybe you should discipline your daughter to stop being a fucking pig, and tell her to quit being such a pussy.” “I suggest that you keep an eye out on your daughter Mr. Burton,” Kay said haughtily. “Those orphan kids, especially the ones who have been adopted older, can turn on you. I once read about an orphan girl that killed her entire adopted family by putting strychnine in their drinking water. Cecily is definitely the sort who might do that.” “Give me a fucking break!” Cliff snorted. “You know, fuck you people! We don’t need you. I don’t know if I even want my daughter hanging around with people who would think so prejudicially against an orphaned child! What the fuck is the matter with you people?” Cliff stomped out of the study. He knew that Mandie’s mother had always been sort of an uptight bitch, but he didn’t know that she always had looked down on him and his daughter. Mandie’s grandmother had been eavesdropping from the other side of the study door. As soon as Cliff emerged, she yanked on his arm, and pulled him into the parlor. She shut the door. “You’re not going to bitch at me too?” Cliff groaned. “Look. I don’t have to take anymore bullshit regarding my daughter! Cecily is a wonderful girl!” “That she is,” Mandie’s Grandmother replied. “I think that Cecily is a very sweet and polite little girl.” “You do?” Cliff asked. The Grandmother nodded. “Yes. She was always a very loyal and true friend to Mandie. I don’t agree how Kay is handling this.” “Well then why don’t you talk some sense into her?” asked Cliff. “Talking sense into Kay is impossible,” replied the Grandmother. “Especially when it concerns her daughter. I just wanted to tell you that I believe Cecily. I believe that it was all just a mistake. I must say that out of all Mandie’s friends that Cecily has the best manners, and is always the most considerate.” “Fuck right,” put in Cliff. “She gets that from, well, I guess from Emily.” “That’s funny,” the grandmother remarked. “I thought that a girl named Clarisse came over here with Mandie last night. She said that she was your girlfriend.” “She is my girlfriend,” Cliff explained. “Emily is my ex girlfriend, but she did a lot towards raising Cecily. She moved to England though.” “Oh,” the Grandma said quietly. “That must have been very hard on Cecily.” “Yeah,” Cliff muttered looking at the floor. “You’re doing a good job with her,” the Grandma went on. “But what Cecily really needs is a mother. She’s at such a vulnerable age right now. A strong, solid, female presence in her life is important, especially if you want her to stay as sweet as she is now. I think that Cecily deserves a mother.” As Cliff left the room he felt even worse. It was mostly his fault that Cecily didn’t have a mother. She would have had one, if only he hadn’t of gotten drunk and jumped in bed with a slew of strippers. They weren’t even very hot strippers anyway. The Grandma was right. Cecily did deserve a mother. She needed a strong female role model to help guide her through her teenage years. He felt terrible that he had been the one that had cost her that. He met Cecily outside sitting on the porch. “Well?” Cecily asked as she sprang up from the chair. “Hi Cess,” Cliff greeted as he walked down the porch stairs. “Do you think that Clemmie could be your bosom friend?” “Let me guess,” said Cecily. “Mandie’s mother hates me.” “Afraid so,” answered Cliff. “But don’t worry. She hates me too.” “I’ve lost my best friend,” Cecily murmured, tears stinging her eyes. “I’m really sorry Cecily,” Cliff said sincerely as he opened his car door for her. “I was going to ask if you wanted to take Mandie with you to White Rock, but I think now it’s pretty much out of the question.” “Daddy,” Cecily said somewhat sheepishly. “Do you think that maybe, maybe,” “Hey Cess, Danzig’s on the radio!” Cliff yelped excitedly. “Do you think that maybe Jackson could come with us to White Rock?” Cecily blurted out. There were only three things that Cecily could have said that would have pulled Cliff away from singing along with Glen Danzig. They were: Cecily announcing that she had joined the Republican party, Cecily announcing that she was pregnant, and Cecily asking if she could take Jackson on vacation with her. Cliff immediately turned down the radio. “The only reason that you want to take Jackson along with us is so that you can fuck him,” Cliff quipped. “Fuck him right on the beach!” “I do not!” Cecily retorted. “Just because you were hornier than a Billy goat as a teenager doesn’t mean that I am!” “I’m still hornier than a Billy goat,” Cliff muttered. “I know,” Cecily shot. “Please Daddy,” she said in a much sweeter tone. “I was telling Jackson all about it. He’s interested in hearing about the haunted house across that’s the street, and he wants to go fishing and canoeing out to the rock.” Cliff looked thoughtful as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He had actually asked Scott Ian if he’d like to go with them since he was on a little break, and he had gladly accepted. Between him, Clarisse, Scott, James, and Francesca, some chick who was working in wardrobe that James had picked up on his tour, there would be five adults around to chaperone. White Rock had four bedrooms plus a sofa that folded into a bed out on the screen porch. Three of the bedrooms had one bed. He could do one room for him and Clarisse, one for James and Fran, and one for Cecily. The fourth bedroom had two double beds. He could assign Jackson and Scott Ian to that room. That way, Scott could keep an eye on Jackson through the night and make sure that he didn’t sneak into Cecily’s room and impregnate her or something. Scott Ian would be a very good guard dog. Plus, he was really starting to take into consideration what Mandie’s Grandma had said about Cecily needing a mother. He knew that he better shit or get off the pot, but he also wasn’t quite sure how Cecily would take it. Perhaps letting Jackson accompany them to White Rock would sweeten the pot a bit, and not make her so upset. “Daddy?” she said again sweetly. Cliff just couldn’t resist her when she said that word. There was something about the way that she said it, that made him always crumble. She had gotten him to buy her so much shit just by saying that fucking word. “Alright,” he sighed. “Jackson can go, but only on one condition. He has to share a room with Scott Ian. Do you think that he’ll be down with that?” “Are you fucking kidding me?” Cecily asked. “Sharing a room with Scott Ian would be a fourteen-year-old metal head’s dream. He’s going to cream in his pants.” “Maybe so,” said Cliff. “Just as long as he doesn’t do it on you. Then I would have to go kick his ass. And if he does anything fresh or out of line, not only will he have to answer to me, but we’ll also stick James and Scott on him. We’ll beat the shit out of him.” “Trust me Daddy,” said Cecily. “I think that Jackson will have much more fun sharing a room with Scott Ian, than he would sharing a room with me.” “Humph!” Cliff snorted. “Cecily, he’s a fourteen-year-old boy. And no matter how cool sharing a room with Scott Ian is, Scott Ian isn’t, and never will be, a pretty, adolescent, young, female. And he’s never going to have any titties. Well, hopefully he’s not…” |
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| Simone | December 28, 2007, 5:10 am Post #85 |
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Mistress of Puppets
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Scott Ian with tits These two chapters were such refreshers after you wake up in the morning And indeed,Jackson IS going to cream his pants ugh! I can't wait for the White Rock chapter! It's going to be fantastic...unless that Clarisse bitch shows up...please make her die!!! :horns2
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| Lucifer's Angel | December 28, 2007, 9:47 am Post #86 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Yeah, Scott Ian with tits, what a way to begin my morning Mandie's mother is a bitch, how could anyone be prejudiced against Cecily, she's a good girl Poor Mandie, though. I got drunk for the first time when I was twelve too, I drank too much pink champagne at my cousin's wedding, and I felt like shit the next day. But it was sooo good White Rock sounds wonderful, and I can't wait to read more, it sounds like fun
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| Verity | December 28, 2007, 12:51 pm Post #87 |
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The Story Girl
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Simone- I hope you like White Rock because there's like 40 million White Rock chapters. Well maybe not that many, but I'm currently working on chapter 32 and they're still at White Rock. And sorry about the Scott Ian titties. I've been on this Anthrax kick lately. Vanessa- Pink champagne is good stuff. We had that at my wedding. My parents let me drink a little when and supervised when I was 12 but I never got wasted drunk until I was 22. Jagermeister did it. I literally wanted to die, and was sick for a good 2 days. Anyway, on to White Rock. Chapter Twenty-Three “Do you really need to bring all of that various shit with you Doll Face?” Cliff asked as he watched in a combination of disbelief, disgust, and amazement as Clarisse gathered together piles upon piles of shit to take with her to White Rock. “Of course I do!” Clarisse snapped testily. “You’d never understand because you don’t know beans about looking good, but I do, and I know that it takes a lot of work and a lot of stuff.” Cecily poked her head out of the back car window. “Can we leave yet Daddy?” she asked. “It’s almost seven o’clock!” It was at least a three hour trip to White Rock. They were supposed to leave around five, but Cliff had gotten held up with Gastropod. They had been drunk, disorderly, a wee bit stoned, and very uncooperative, so finishing up their video editing had turned out to be a painstaking, and grueling process. Cliff felt that he was being punished for all of the times that Brian Slagel had found him passed out on the bathroom floor right before a concert, and had had to physically carry him out onto the stage and set him up with his bass. “Just a minute Cecily!” Cliff yelled back. He turned to Clarisse. “Doll Face,” he said sweetly. “You don’t need to haul around a bunch of shit with you in order to look good. All you have to haul around with you is that tight, little ass of yours.” He grabbed her butt, but Clarisse pulled away. “I want to take my things Clifford,” she said firmly. “Now find somewhere to stuff this suitcase.” She shoved a medium sized black suitcase into Cliff’s arms. Cliff turned to the nearly overflowing car. All ready, they would have to tie down the tailgate with a bungee cord, since they had so much shit between Cliff’s suitcase, bass, amplifier, Jackson’s suitcase and bass, Cecily’s suitcase and art shit, fishing rods, and other various supplies and random equipment. Cliff tried to stuff the suitcase in, but failed. “It ain’t going to fit,” he declared. “Clarrise, what the hell do you have in here?” “Curling irons,” Clarisse replied as she took out a nail file, and began to file her nails. “This whole fucking suitcase is filled with nothing but curling irons?” Cliff asked amazed. “Yes,” Clarisse nodded, looking at Cliff as if he had a Billy goat coming out of his head. “Clarisse,” said Cliff. “You’re not doing any modeling photo shoots at White Rock. If you really need to have curly hair for some reason, we’ll feed James a bucket of chili and then we’ll lock the both of you up in the tool shed. Or we could just lock you in there with Geezer.” Clarisse was not amused. “If you want me to feel welcome at White Rock, I should be able to take whatever I want,” she argued. She reached into the car and pulled out one of Cecily’s boxes of paints. She threw it out onto the ground. “Does Cecily really need to bring all of this art shit?” she asked. “My paints!” Cecily yelped as she flew out of the car to pick up the tubes of paint that were now scattered about the driveway. “Of course I need to bring my paints.” “Oh honestly Cecily!” Clarisse snapped. “You’re not a preschooler anymore.” “Clarisse,” said Cliff. “Cecily enjoys her painting and takes it very seriously. White Rock is one of the best places for her to paint because it’s so nice. Just wait until you see it Clarisse. You’ll agree.” Clarisse frowned. Did Cliff always have to take fucking Cecily’s side all of the time? She noticed Cecily’s maid of honor dress lying in the back of the car. It was wrapped in a plastic dress bag. “She doesn’t have to drag along that fancy dress with her,” Clarisse pointed out. “Actually she does,” said Cliff. “Francesca, this new chick that James is banging right now, knows how to sew and shit. She’s going to hem the dress for her.” “Since Miss Emily has gone to England and can’t do it,” Cecily said wistfully. “We never had this much trouble packing up the car when Miss Emily was around.” “That’s because Emily didn’t require one entire suitcase for her collection of curling irons,” Cliff muttered under his breath. Fortunately, Clarisse didn’t hear the comment. Cliff also failed to mention that he had two suitcases stuffed in the car that held nothing but his CDs. Oh well. They were taking his car. Wasn’t he entitled? Their trip was only about to get much worse. Well, at least for Clarisse it was. Jackson and Cecily sat in the backseat. Cliff put smelly Geezer in between them. Even though he had just had a bath, and not just any bath, but a Kirk Hammett milk bath, laced with lavender and honey, that same undying, tenacious, foul, skunk-like odor still filled the car. “I can’t believe that you’re bringing that infernal dog with you,” Clarisse bitched as they finally pulled out of the driveway. “I ain’t going to leave Geezer alone at the house for a month,” answered Cliff “That’s what they make kennels for,” sniffed Clarisse. “If you ask me, that’s where he belongs.” “White Rock is Geezer’s home too!” Cecily shot. “Couldn’t we have put him in a cage and strapped him to the top of the car?” Clarisse asked. “Clifford! He’s making me sick. I can’t take the smell.” “Roll down your window,” Cliff replied. “Geezer has to stay right where he is. He’s my chastity barricade.” He gave Jackson an icy look from the rearview mirror. Smelly Geezer worked as the perfect chastity barricade between Jackson and Cecily. Cliff wanted to make sure that no fucking was going on in his backseat. He had told Geezer earlier that if Jackson even touched Cecily he could bite him. “I’m going to vomit Clifford!” Clarisse groaned. “You wouldn’t have lasted one minute on a Metallica or a Gastropod tour bus,” Cliff laughed. “Damn. I remember this one time we were on a United States tour. It was during the summer actually. You were with us Cecily. We were down in Texas, and the fucking air conditioning on the bus broke. It got up to around 104 degrees in there.” “I remember that,” said Cecily. “What happened?” Jackson asked, eager for a Metallica story. “Well Lars and James were completely wasted so they were hung over,” said Cliff. “The heat really got to them, and they both started puking all over the place. On top of it all, Lars had picked up Giardia from some skank whore in Indiana, so he had bloody diarrhea. Then Kirk had some sort of food poisoning from raw oysters, so he was puking too. And then my darling Cecily, got a little too overheated and fucking puked right down my shirt.” “I did not Daddy!” Cecily retorted. “You did too,” Cliff replied. “You were sitting right behind me. You were little, and you weren’t feeling well, so you tried to climb into my lap and ended up puking down my shirt in the process. Don’t worry. It wasn’t the first time that a girl puked down my shirt. It was awful though. Don’t you remember? Emily and I had to get everyone a hotel room, and you had one of your fainting spells.” “Stop the car!” Clarisse suddenly yelled, her hand going to her mouth, and her face turning green. Cliff pulled off to the side of the road, and just in the nick of time. Clarisse opened up the car door and hurled out the side of the car. “Well,” Cliff sighed as Clarisse retched. “At least she didn’t puke down my shirt.” *** Everything that Cecily had told Jackson about White Rock was true. It was sort of in the middle of nowhere. The closest town with a movie theatre and shit was eleven miles away. Even the beach houses couldn’t be seen from the road. You could see the ocean, and the sign that said White Rock, but the houses were hidden from the main road. Cliff turned onto the long, fog laden, dirt road that went down to the beach and the houses. By now it was completely dark out. The sky was littered with stars. You could even see the Milky Way. “There’s a lot of history in this place,” Cliff remarked. “Especially with the Native Americans.” “Oh Cliff,” grumbled a broken Clarisse. “Not the fucking Native Americans again.” “Is it built on an Indian burial ground?” Jackson asked. “No,” Cliff answered. “Though I’m sure that some Indians must have died around here, or on the beach at some point. After all, this is their land. There’s a lot of spooky shit that has happened around here.” He pointed to a small, gray, cottage with a massive front porch. “That house is claimed to be haunted,” he said. “Oh honestly Cliff,” Clarisse moaned. “Seriously,” Cliff replied. “They’ve had shoot outs there and shit. Ask James about it. He loves to tell ghost stories.” Cliff turned into the driveway of a large, light blue shingle style home, with cross peaked gables and white trim. It had a huge wraparound porch. A portion of it was screened. It was an older home, dating around 1903. The house had a breathtaking view of the ocean and beach. James and Scott Ian were already there, so the house was lit up, the lights giving it a welcoming, comforting, glow to what might have seemed like an eerie place being out in the middle of nowhere with a supposedly haunted house across the street. “Well guys,” said Cliff as he rolled out of the car, thankful that the long, miserable, car ride was over. “Welcome to my beach crib.” Clarisse perked up when she saw White Rock. It was a rather impressive beachfront home. She forgot about having to leave her curling irons behind, and about smelly Geezer. James, Francesca, and Scott Ian, all appeared on the front porch to greet them. “Get your ass over here Burton!” Scott Ian bellowed for all of White Rock to hear. “We’ve got the weed all out and waiting for you.” “Good,” answered Cliff as he lugged in a suitcase. “I’ll sure as hell need it after that car trip.” “What the fuck happened?” asked James. He noticed that even uber sexy and ultra hot Clarisse looked a little bedraggled. “Is she sick?” “Shut up James!” Clarisse snarled as she trooped inside. “She got car sick,” Cliff explained. “I did not!” Clarisse snapped. “It’s your lousy, jerky, driving, and that nasty smelling dog of yours.” “Ole Geezer is a foul smelling one,” James agreed as gave the dog a pat. “Ah well. He don’t smell no worse than Lars’s butt sweat.” “How would you know what Lars’s butt sweat smells like?” Francesca asked, rolling her eyes. “He’s always waltzing around half naked all of the time,” replied James. He turned back to Cliff, Cecily, Jackson, and Clarisse. “I want you guys to meet Francesca,” he introduced. “She handles our wardrobe for us.” “Wardrobe?” Clarisse repeated making a face. “Don’t they just run around in T-shirts and torn jeans? They look like a bunch of homeless people up on stage. Do they honestly need a wardrobe person just to do that?” “Well you see,” said James. “Sometimes we get too wasted to dress ourselves for the concert, so we have to hire people to dress us. Ain’t that right Fran?” “Sure,” Fran replied. “It works for me because I get all of their money. Though I’m not doing a very good job with Lars. I can never get him to put any clothes on.” Cliff gave James the thumbs up sign showing that Fran had past muster with him. James led Cliff over to the bar to fix him a drink. Meanwhile, Scott Ian took Jackson upstairs to their room. Francisca turned to Cecily. “James was showing me the pictures that you painted here. They’re lovely. You’ll have to paint one for me so that I can always remember this place. It’s so pretty here.” “It could use some carpet,” Clarisse scoffed, not digging the rustic wood floor. Her eyes began to wander around the living room, which had big, glass, windows overlooking the beach. She noticed something sitting out on the table that she immediately did not like: it was a photograph of Emily. And not only was it just Emily, but it was of Cliff and Emily. They were sitting out on the dock together. Clarisse thought that Emily looked ridiculous in the big straw fishing hat that she was wearing. No wonder Cecily went around wearing such ugly hats all of the time. They were holding fishing poles, and Cliff had his arm around her. They both looked very, very, happy. The picture was dated from two summers ago. Without saying anything, Clarisse picked up the picture frame and threw it in the trash. “What are you doing?” Cecily squawked as she ran over to the trash can and fished out the picture. “Get a brain Cecily,” Clarisse snapped. “I’m going to be Cliff’s wife someday. I don’t want a picture of him with some random floozy sitting in my house!” “That’s not a random floozy!” yelled Cecily. “That’s my Mom!” She looked at the picture affectionately. “This is one of the few pictures that I have of both of my parents together, being happy. I want to keep it.” “Well you can’t,” said Clarisse. “It’s not fair to me to have to look at pictures of my boyfriend with some other girl.” “She’s not just some other girl!” yelled Cecily. “She’s my Mom!” Cecily hugged the picture close to her chest, and went running off to her room. “It’s the girl’s mother,” Francesca stated to Clarisse. “It’s only natural for Cecily to want a picture of her Mom around.” “Newsflash Brazilian bimbo!” Clarisse snapped. “I’m Argentinean,” Francesca corrected. “Same thing,” Clarisse sighed, clearly annoyed. “For your information, Emily is not Cecily’s mother. Her real mom is some whore from Denmark.” “My word!” Fran declared. “Those boys certainly do get around. I didn’t know that. I just assumed that Cliff had Cecily with Emily.” “Cliff didn’t have Cecily with anybody,” said a frustrated Clarisse. “He’s not her real Father either.” “He’s not?” Fran gasped. “I never would have guessed.” “He was having a midlife crisis and adopted her,” said Clarisse. “Isn’t Cliff a little young to be having a midlife crisis?” Francesca asked. “I’m sure he had a good reason for adopting her. He gave her a wonderful and loving home. I think that’s rather sweet of him.” Clarisse rolled her eyes at Francesca. There were just too many bimbos in the world. Fran was making Cliff out to be some sort of saint. James had brainwashed her. Just wait until she got to deal with bratty Cecily. Then she’d see just what an undisciplined little witch that she really was… |
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| Lucifer's Angel | December 28, 2007, 12:56 pm Post #88 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Shut the fuck up, you skank whore! God I am really hating her more. Fran is cool, I like her much better than Clarisse, she's good for James. And the whole thing with the puke and Geezer was excellent :horns2 Ha, Clarisse barfed, I didn't know models could barf And having a suitcase full of curling irons? Talk about high-maintanence
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| Battery | December 28, 2007, 4:04 pm Post #89 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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I feel sorry for Cecily with this Mandie situation... At least Mandie's grandmother is on Cecily's side... Aand Cliff agreed to take Jackson (I'm so jealous of him, sharing a room with Scott Ian... ) to White Rock, yeah!Francesca is so cool And Clarisse...... She's making such an idiot from herself.... And she's still so mean to poor Cecily Nasty bitch :ugh:...“Clarisse,” said Cliff. “You’re not doing any modeling photo shoots at White Rock. If you really need to have curly hair for some reason, we’ll feed James a bucket of chili and then we’ll lock the both of you up in the tool shed. Or we could just lock you in there with Geezer.” :lol:, so energy-saving! And I loved Geezer as a chastity barricade between Cecily and Jackson Wow, this story gets better and better, SO awesome! Too bad I won't have much time on the computer for next couple of days (family raid), but I'm impatiently looking forward to catching up!!!
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| Verity | December 28, 2007, 11:42 pm Post #90 |
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The Story Girl
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Sorry girls but this next chapter is absolutely assine, pointless, and an amboniation to society. I don't think you're missing anything if you choose not to read it. I don't know what I was smoking the day that I wrote it, but it wasn't good. Next chapter will be better, I promise. Chapter Twenty-Four “Cliff named all of the bedrooms after Native American tribes,” Scott Ian said importantly as he led Jackson up the stairs to the bedrooms. “Wow. Really?” said Jackson. “He’s really into that shit isn’t he?” “Yeah Man,” answered Scott. “He was out on tour over in New Mexico and went to some pow-wow with Kirk. Kirk claims that he had to drag him kicking and screaming just to get him to go. He fell absolutely in love with it. They probably smoked weed out of a peace pipe or something. Who knows? Maybe the shaman dude put some kind of curse on him, because Cliff came back from the pow-wow with four hundred dollars worth of Native American art and shit, and he went out and bought a bunch of books on their culture.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Cliff went absolutely ape shit one day when he found out that it’s six percent possible that he’s one eighteenth Cherokee,” Scott informed Jackson. He pointed to James and Francesca’s room. “That room is called the Pottawatomie room,” he said importantly. “Your little girlfriend is sleeping in the Chippewa Room. Cliff and his chickie are sleeping in the Apache Room, and this room is ours.” With a flourish, Scott Ian opened the door. “We’re in the Cherokee Room,” The Cherokee room had two matching beds made from birch wood. Each bed had a cozy, colorful, quilt on it made by real Native Americans, at least according to Cliff they were. There was a round, hand crocheted, rug on the floor, and a rocking chair made from birch wood logs. Pillows stuffed with pine needles sat in the corners of the room like pert, bloated, babies. A picture of Hiawatha hung up on the wall in between the two beds. Scott Ian did a belly flop down onto his bed and started to flip through one of his many comic books. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jackson started to unpack. “So,” he said innocently. “You banging Burton’s daughter?” Jackson dropped the armful of toiletries that he was carrying. His face turned beet red. “Of course not!” he squawked. “Mr. Burton would kill me.” “Yeah,” Scott Ian agreed. “You got that right. When it comes to Cecily, Cliff doesn’t fuck around.” “I don’t know why he’s so paranoid,” said Jackson as he placed a pair of pajamas in the dresser drawer. “Cecily is a smart girl, and I know that she respects herself. She’s not going to go sleeping around with anyone. He needs to give her more credit, and trust her.” “It’s because Cecily’s mother was like this world class slut,” Scott Ian replied. “She has no idea who Cecily’s real father even is, and she had her when she was really, really, young. I think at one point they were thinking that the father was Lars, and they did some DNA test but it came back negative. Anyway, according to Metallica folklore, she’d fuck anything, even a carnie.” He went back to his comic book. Damn, Jackson thought. Poor Cecily. That has to be rough having such a terrible mother, who doesn’t even know who her father is. He flopped down onto the other bed. “What are you reading?” he asked. “Iron Man,” Scott Ian replied. “1964 original from my vintage collection.” “You collect comic books?” Jackson asked, impressed. Scott nodded. “Yep. I also collect action figures. Mostly He-Man and Transformers.” He set his comic book down, and reached under his bed. He pulled out a large red box with clear plastic over the front. “You see this baby?” he asked. “That’s Optimus Prime,” said Jackson. “You got that right,” replied Scott Ian as he kissed the cool plastic box and hugged it close. “It’s an original Generation one Optimus Prime from 1984.” “No shit,” Jackson gasped. “I take Ole Optimus with me wherever I go,” said Scott. “Some people take their favorite teddy bear, but I take Optimus Prime with me. And don’t you breathe one word of this to Burton or Hetfield. They’d give me so much shit if they knew that I slept with a Transformers action figure.” “I won’t say a word. I promise,” Jackson vowed. “I think that it’s really cool that you collect comic books and Transformers Mr. Ian.” “You’re the first to ever say that,” Scott replied. “And don’t call me Mr. Ian. It makes me feel like a high school band director.” “I wish that I were really cool,” Jackson sighed wistfully. “Mr. Burton doesn’t have to worry about me and Cecily, because I don’t know how to get her to even like me.” “Dude,” said Scott. “You’re at White Rock. If she fucking hated your guts you wouldn’t be here.” “I think that she likes me alright just as like a friend, but it’s just that I’m weird,” Jackson blurted out, feeling like a complete dork jackass in front of Scott Ian. “I’m weird, and awkward, and goofy looking. “Look at James. Look at Cliff. You don’t get any goofier looking than those two, and look at the chicks that they’re bedding,” replied Scott. “Jesus. It’s like the fucking 500 Club around here. I’m going to have to start walking around carrying a book in front of my dick all of the time.” “I bet that you’ve had thousands of pretty ladies,” said Jackson. “Mr. Ian, I mean Scott, what’s the best way to get a girl to like you?” Finding the clitoris, Scott Ian thought as he looked up from Iron Man and raised an eyebrow. “Dude,” he replied. “I collect comic books and action figures that I just keep in the boxes. They decorate my fucking living room. I’m not exactly babe magnet material.” Jackson frowned as picked up one of Scott’s comic books and began to wistfully flip through it. “If you can’t get any, then I’m screwed,” he grumbled. “I play Dungeons and Dragons and am currently reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I’ll never have a girlfriend. Especially a girl like Cecily.” “The Hitchhiker’s Guide is a good book,” Scott replied. “As for Cecily, you don’t have to worry about being too weird for her. She’s a wee bit on the loony side herself. I fucking went over to Cliff’s house one day to find her lying in this cardboard box while her friends were pushing her around in it. She was supposed to be this dead maiden lady floating down the river.” “The Lady of Shalott,” said Jackson. “Something like that,” said Scott. “Anyway, she’s a nice girl, but she is a bit odd. I can’t blame her though. She lives with Cliff. I think that he’s giving her weed.” Scott watched as Jackson threw the comic book aside. He couldn’t believe that Cliff was making him share a room with a fourteen-year-old boy. How was he supposed to see Lucy with him around? Lucy was Scott’s west coast fuck buddy. He had been planning on meeting up with her at some point. He sighed. It looked as if Jackson could really use some guidance and direction. He seemed like an okay kid. Perhaps he should help him out. “You really like her don’t you?” he asked. Jackson sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “At least I think that I do.” “Do you think about her a lot?” Scott asked. “Yes,” answered Jackson. “Do you get all feel-goody happy whenever you see her?” Scott went on. “Oh yes,” said Jackson. “I also get a little nervous too.” “Do you find little things here and there that remind you of her?” Scott asked. “Yes,” said Jackson. “Have you ever fantasized about her while whacking off?” Scott asked. Jackson turned red. “I’ll take that as a yes,” said Scott. “Jackson my boy, you’re absolutely smitten with Cecily. You’re a goner.” “I know,” Jackson sighed. “How can I ever get her to like me?” “Just me yourself,” Scott replied. “Don’t pull any bullshit, by being someone that you’re not. So what? You’re a little weird. So am I. So is Cecily.” “Do you really think that she’ll ever like me?” Jackson asked. “I don’t play in no famous old school thrash metal band. I’m just a lowly bass student.” “We all were at some point,” said Scott Ian. “Just be yourself around her. You seem like a cool kid.” “Really?” Jackson asked. Quite pleased that Scott Ian from Anthrax had deemed him as “cool.” Scott Ian nodded. “Trust me kid. I have better things to do than bullshit with teenagers.” He picked up his comic book. “Like reading Iron Man.” “Mr. Ian, I mean Scott,” Jackson said. “I have one more concern.” “Premature ejaculation?” Scott Ian asked. “Yeah, I used to have that. Try the trick with the tennis ball. That helps.” “Uh no,” said a confused and slightly grossed out Jackson. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask you. What I wanted to say is I don’t want Cecily to think that the only reason I like her is because of who her Dad is. I don’t want her to think that I’m hanging around with her just to hang out with people like you and James Hetfield. I’ve liked Cecily for a long time. I’ve just recently gotten the courage to talk to her, but I’ve liked her for over a year.” “Just be your self and be a true friend to her,” said Scott. “Stay genuine. Always be there for her to help her out whenever she needs it. All you got to be is a true friend. She’ll know that you’re for real.” “Thanks,” said Jackson. “That really helped me a lot. I feel way better. I’m sorry to keep bothering you with my teenage boy problems.” “Don’t be sorry,” Scott replied. “I’m flattered that you wanted to ask me of all people this shit. It makes me feel smart.” He stuffed Optimus Prime and his Iron Man comic book back under his bed out of eyesight. “Come on,” he said. “I saw a brand new pint of triple fudge ice cream in the freezer. Let’s get some before James eats it all…” |
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So what she's a swimsuit model Cliff! She's empty!




Hah, James gave Cecily Jager, poor kid
And that smoothie sounds disgusting, I like smoothies, but not those type, I like the strawberry banana ones at the mall

And he miss Emily
And indeed,Jackson IS going to cream his pants
Mandie's mother is a bitch, how could anyone be prejudiced against Cecily, she's a good girl 
8:43 PM Jul 10