November 12th, 1955.

8:00 AM.

Hill Valley, California.

Biff checked out of the Bluebird Motel with the smuggled almanac and handgun still on him. He remembered his younger self would be at Terry's shop in the early afternoon. In the meantime, he wanted to take a good look around his hometown as he remembered it in the good old days as a bully.

Coming into the Square just as the sun was shining, he hadn't gotten this much exercise in years. He actually was feeling a little better and wasn't quite as slouched over walking. Looking over at the Texaco Station (and what had been the blacksmith shop he robbed 70 years earlier, or was it just yesterday? Time travel was already confusing), memories came flooding back.

Roy's Records. When I was 12, I jumped some little twerp for his lunch money right outside here.

Slowly cutting across Main street, he wanted to check out a place he hadn't been to for 60 years: Lou's Café, which doubled as a malt shop. It reminded him of good times, times when people still respected him, when he'd go to hit on girls – mainly Lorraine – and get in fights with kids from school. His archenemy, George McFly always went there. Biff hadn't stepped in the Café after that day. He knew he could never be taken seriously after George decked him. Knowing he obviously wouldn't be recognized now, he pushed in one of the doors and holding his cane in the other. Geez, he had now been in this place in every conceivable time period.

Bill Haley's "Rock Around the Clock" was playing in the background, as a cheerful young, black guy was happily humming along to it while cleaning the booths, which had been bustling from the after school rush the day before. Too busy looking around admiring everything; Biff didn't notice anything until he heard a stern voice.

"Excuse me, sir, are gonna order breakfast or just stand there?"

51 year-old Lou Caruthers, the owner of the place was speaking to him. He always hated this guy, partially because he took to George.

"Yeah, yeah, just some Corn Flakes and Orange Juice or something, whatever you got." Biff snapped, as Lou repeated the order in a cold voice. Biff got out 15 cents to pay, just as a very familiar figure walked in.

"George. Hey, what's happenin' buddy," said the young man working there.

"Good morning, Goldie, not too much, yet," the still somewhat wimpy voice replied.

Putting the cleaning supplies on the empty table, 22-year-old busboy Goldie Wilson went over to George. He patted him on the back. "Hey, I hear you asked this girl out the other day. I always knew you liked Lorraine. I know you're still thinkin' bout tonight, aren't ya?"

George responded to one of his only friends. "I suppose. Although my new friend, Marty, he told me what to say." After a pause, he continued, "I've, I've hardly ever even talked to a girl before, forget about asking them out. It's just that she's so popular, and I'm not. What if she thinks I'm just a dork, how am I going to have conversation with her?"

Goldie was determined to make George more confident. "No worries. I know you, boy. You got a whole other side just waitin' to come out. I know how you feel, but just talk about stuff you like, ask her about herself, I know it'll work, and one day you'll be tellin' yourself how glad you were you did!"

George began to agree. "That's what Marty said. I guess you're right. I'll tell you how it went too. I just wonder if she likes Science Fiction stories."

Sitting nearby, picking at his food, Old Biff was getting a mix of nostalgia and bitterness. Though all this sounded like what the Irish Bug would say, he never heard it firsthand. It was nice to get the inside scoop on how things developed.

Goldie continued with a spark, "That guy is smart. You r'member when he said I'll be mayor! Hey, I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm taking the garbage out." Bringing up a still fresh conversation topic, he restated, "I'm still thinking about how hilarious it was when that bozo boy Biff Tannen and his crazy friends crashed into that sh*t."

George had to laugh at that. Even the usually plain and boring Lou cracked a smile as he headed into the back office temporarily. A bell would sound if a customer walked in. Biff made a fist of rage at what was just said at his expense, and thinking of what happened to his younger self in here just a few days before. He went over to George while he was still a wimp.

"Hey, you! Come here, McFly!"

George turned around in confusion. This had sure been an interesting week for him, one that looked as if it might make his life turn out for the better. However, something was weird. Not to mention, this was the second time in this week that some unknown guy recognized him.

"Uhh, yeah, can I help you with something?"

"You don't think you know me, do you," said Biff intimidatingly. Getting up, he walked, hunched-over, close enough to George to make his eyes water. Right now, it was the two of them alone in the café until Goldie got back.

"No. How do you know me, and what do you want?"

In a way, George felt silly for being so afraid of a frail looking old man with a walking cane, but he was afraid of a lot of things.

"You think you can get one over on Biff Tannen, right? Well, he's gonna do much better than you ever will. That's right, he's gonna be rich, and he's gonna marry your date, Lorraine. One day, she might be Lorraine Baines Mc, Tannen," he corrected himself, not wanting to tell George too much about his future.

George was mighty confused now. "What, what? I'm scared of Biff, but he makes me do his work ever since we were little kids. It's easier just to do it than try and say no. Why are you after me though?"

There was another piece of extra information he had. Acting very much like his younger self, he pushed for more. "What else don't you like about Biff, huh?" The old man's voice was in almost a yell.

"Look, I don't know why you're defending him. Do you know him, are you going to tell him what I said? Please don't!"

George was backing away in fear. He prayed hard that Goldie or Lou would emerge, or some other kid from school, anyone. Seconds felt like hours.

Partially with Marty's perpetual advice in mind, George thought about his options. He knew he could easily outrun the codger. Just a side step and a dash out the door and he'd be home safe. He knew that's probably what Marty would tell him to do. The only reason he wouldn't try anything now is because he had a sneaking suspicion this old man knew Biff somehow. Why else would he defend him like this? He felt anything he did would get back to Biff, and he didn't dare think of the beating and harassing he might get then. In the end, he decided the old man wouldn't be as bad, and just went with it.

As Biff approached George threateningly, his mind suddenly flashed to 60 years of pent up anger. This was anger at the young man who had (or would) indirectly made his life a living hell. Who knew that one punch at the dance could change their lives so much?

Biff answered George. "You could say I know Biff pretty well, yeah. I'm just gonna tell you one thing, you Irish Bug. Anything he tells you, you do it, punk! Got that?"

Biff was sick of being afraid of George for all those years, starting with all the embarrassment and humiliation he faced the rest of his senor year, not to mention being the town's puppet, all because of what he did. He set the almanac and its bag down on his seat. He held his cane in his right hand. With his left, he jabbed George into the counter a few times. Despite his declining health and sickly nature, he still had some muscle left in him. He knew George was feeling the pain. Biff swatted him on the head with his cane. "McFly, you better just watch yourself!"

At that moment, Goldie had finished taking the garbage out and returned to the Café. Seeing what was going on, he dashed over to the counter in genuine concern. He knew his younger friend would be afraid of fighting back.

"Hey, pops! What the h*ll are you doin' to him? Let the poor boy alone, huh. He hasn't done nothin' to you."

Biff just teasingly shot back, "Oh yeah? I just found out about how he feels about Biff Tannen, and I-"

He was cut off mid-sentence when Lou came back out. He did hear the doors open, after all. "Hey you. I don't know how crazy you are, but I'm calling the police unless you take off right now."

Begrudgingly, Biff picked up the almanac bag and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his large red, long-sleeve shirt. Grabbing his cane in anger, he stormed out of the café, looking for his next destination.