Angsty Story is Angsty...
2:05pm: In all seriousness though, this is one disturbing Flash Fic, at least to me, but what do you expect from this prompt I guess:
055. Cemetery
It was an overcast day, drizzling, with gusts of wind blowing every so often.
In the heated limo Biff Tannen sat comfortable in the back the seat. As far as he was concerned, it was day for celebration.
“We’re here, Mr. Tannen,” the driver called from the front as the limo came to a stop.
Biff grinned at his three friends, reliable as ever. They all wore dark sunglasses despite the weather and of course, Match was chewing on a matchstick.
“Ready, guys?”
The three grinned and high-fived each other.
“Get the door,” he ordered the driver and after a few moments the door opened, the driver held up an umbrella.
“I don’t need that crap,” Biff snarled at him, almost pushing him over as he got out of the limo followed by Match, Skinhead and 3-D.
They walked beneath the wrought iron arch and followed the line of cars.
The place was eerily quiet and for the most part deserted, but as the gang walked further they spouted a group of people, huddled around a grave.
A smirk spread across Biff’s face, here the result of his handiwork. Five days ago he had almost lost control of the whole situation - but he had regained it, all thanks to his gun.
He spotted her, she was hard to miss, surrounded by the three brats (at first he’d considered arranging for something to happen to them…but then he’d realised they’d probably work in his favour), her head downcast, her hands tightly clenched together.
She looked completely broken - good - for too long she had brushed him off, acted like he didn’t even matter, he was the richest man in the whole God-damn country!
The priest was droning on and people were actually crying over the butthead, except for her. As Biff got closer he saw that her face was completely pale, she was biting her lip and her hands were shaking.
How pathetic.
How perfect.
No-one had noticed him and the boys, at least not until they were practically on top of the grave.
“You! What the Hell do you think you’re doing?!”
It was George’s stepsister, that tart, she was glaring at him as if he was some sort of pond scum.
But he didn’t mind, since all heads turned and everyone forgot McFly, shut up in a box.
“Can’t a man pay his respects?” He finally drawled.
“Respects?!” Alison was shaking with rage. “You probably set the whole thing up!”
He felt a brief flicker of fear, but she couldn’t know, she was just running off at the mouth like she always did.
A woman with long black hair took Alison’s arm and pointed out that they were right in the middle of the service.
They all turned away, but Biff knew they were aware he was there…how satisfying.
Finally the dirt was tossed (Biff wouldn’t have minded flinging a handful of the stuff himself) and the sorry group headed for their cars, the rain and wind having picked up.
Except for her and the brats, she seemed to be muttering to herself as he came closer.
“Hey Lorraine.” Casual and breezy, like they were at a party.
She flinched.
The oldest brat glared at him. “What do you want?”
Biff had to laugh, the kid was probably ten years old at the most and he thought he talk back to him. He was even standing in front of his mother like he thought he could protect her.
“Nice service,” he added, grinning.
The girl brat started sniffling, God this was completely pathetic.
“I was real shocked to hear about it,” he went on, “I mean a stick-up in this nice little town of ours. It’s dangerous out there.”
“Mommy,” the youngest brat spoke, tugging on Lorraine’s dress. “I don’t like it here, I wanna go home.”
“That can be arranged,” Biff gave the snivelling brat a look of pure disgust. “I have a nice warm limo waiting out the front.”
Finally Lorraine spoke, her voice hoarse. “M-my parents are going to take us.”
“Really, I don’t seem ‘em around,” he made a show of looking about. He knew they wouldn’t be, since he’d told the boys to get them out of there.
Lorraine’s face became even paler as she noticed too.
“Nasty weather, too, wouldn’t want the kids to catch something…”
“I bet you would!” The oldest brat - Dave, wasn’t it? - snapped, that kid would need to be straightened out.
But Biff knew how to play this, he’d been plotting for years. He gave a shrug. “Suit yourself…good luck getting a ride home.”
He turned and started walking…one…two…three.
“Biff wait,” her voice was strained. “I…yes, we need a ride,” she spoke like every word was like a stab to the heart. “Thank you.”
He’d have her…in fact he all ready had her, she had thanked him, right over her husband’s grave.
Thanked the man who’d put him there.
****
My brain has spooked me out...Biff-A is absolute evil!
Right...I think I should go take a shower, not just to wash away this story but also 'cause it's two in the afternoon!
Hunger
Comfort
Hygiene
Energy
Fun
Social
Bladder
Room
Angst
Reach for the laser with Antic's Sims-ulator!
055. Cemetery
It was an overcast day, drizzling, with gusts of wind blowing every so often.
In the heated limo Biff Tannen sat comfortable in the back the seat. As far as he was concerned, it was day for celebration.
“We’re here, Mr. Tannen,” the driver called from the front as the limo came to a stop.
Biff grinned at his three friends, reliable as ever. They all wore dark sunglasses despite the weather and of course, Match was chewing on a matchstick.
“Ready, guys?”
The three grinned and high-fived each other.
“Get the door,” he ordered the driver and after a few moments the door opened, the driver held up an umbrella.
“I don’t need that crap,” Biff snarled at him, almost pushing him over as he got out of the limo followed by Match, Skinhead and 3-D.
They walked beneath the wrought iron arch and followed the line of cars.
The place was eerily quiet and for the most part deserted, but as the gang walked further they spouted a group of people, huddled around a grave.
A smirk spread across Biff’s face, here the result of his handiwork. Five days ago he had almost lost control of the whole situation - but he had regained it, all thanks to his gun.
He spotted her, she was hard to miss, surrounded by the three brats (at first he’d considered arranging for something to happen to them…but then he’d realised they’d probably work in his favour), her head downcast, her hands tightly clenched together.
She looked completely broken - good - for too long she had brushed him off, acted like he didn’t even matter, he was the richest man in the whole God-damn country!
The priest was droning on and people were actually crying over the butthead, except for her. As Biff got closer he saw that her face was completely pale, she was biting her lip and her hands were shaking.
How pathetic.
How perfect.
No-one had noticed him and the boys, at least not until they were practically on top of the grave.
“You! What the Hell do you think you’re doing?!”
It was George’s stepsister, that tart, she was glaring at him as if he was some sort of pond scum.
But he didn’t mind, since all heads turned and everyone forgot McFly, shut up in a box.
“Can’t a man pay his respects?” He finally drawled.
“Respects?!” Alison was shaking with rage. “You probably set the whole thing up!”
He felt a brief flicker of fear, but she couldn’t know, she was just running off at the mouth like she always did.
A woman with long black hair took Alison’s arm and pointed out that they were right in the middle of the service.
They all turned away, but Biff knew they were aware he was there…how satisfying.
Finally the dirt was tossed (Biff wouldn’t have minded flinging a handful of the stuff himself) and the sorry group headed for their cars, the rain and wind having picked up.
Except for her and the brats, she seemed to be muttering to herself as he came closer.
“Hey Lorraine.” Casual and breezy, like they were at a party.
She flinched.
The oldest brat glared at him. “What do you want?”
Biff had to laugh, the kid was probably ten years old at the most and he thought he talk back to him. He was even standing in front of his mother like he thought he could protect her.
“Nice service,” he added, grinning.
The girl brat started sniffling, God this was completely pathetic.
“I was real shocked to hear about it,” he went on, “I mean a stick-up in this nice little town of ours. It’s dangerous out there.”
“Mommy,” the youngest brat spoke, tugging on Lorraine’s dress. “I don’t like it here, I wanna go home.”
“That can be arranged,” Biff gave the snivelling brat a look of pure disgust. “I have a nice warm limo waiting out the front.”
Finally Lorraine spoke, her voice hoarse. “M-my parents are going to take us.”
“Really, I don’t seem ‘em around,” he made a show of looking about. He knew they wouldn’t be, since he’d told the boys to get them out of there.
Lorraine’s face became even paler as she noticed too.
“Nasty weather, too, wouldn’t want the kids to catch something…”
“I bet you would!” The oldest brat - Dave, wasn’t it? - snapped, that kid would need to be straightened out.
But Biff knew how to play this, he’d been plotting for years. He gave a shrug. “Suit yourself…good luck getting a ride home.”
He turned and started walking…one…two…three.
“Biff wait,” her voice was strained. “I…yes, we need a ride,” she spoke like every word was like a stab to the heart. “Thank you.”
He’d have her…in fact he all ready had her, she had thanked him, right over her husband’s grave.
Thanked the man who’d put him there.
****
My brain has spooked me out...Biff-A is absolute evil!
Right...I think I should go take a shower, not just to wash away this story but also 'cause it's two in the afternoon!
Hunger
Comfort
Hygiene
Energy
Fun
Social
Bladder
Room
Angst
Reach for the laser with Antic's Sims-ulator!