Part three of Helga's tale.

Thanks to all of you, for your humble opinions, reviews, and, yes, flames. There's no better way to improve one's writing but by pointing out the flaws.

Demoness Space Pirate, I agree, Bob being abusive is rare, but it happened(sure, it was usually only hinted, but still).

Gwynn, as to where this came from? I'm not sure, I wrote the poem, and the story wrote itself. I hope, you still like it.

Disclaimer: Craig Bartlett's except the poem, that's mine

Reviews: Just a little bit more…

Archive: Sure. Just tell my where

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Broken wings

The icing was splotchy, and not quiet smooth, but the tiny red roses an pink letters were perfectly arranged .

With a contented sigh, Miriam placed the cake in the center of the table, set two plates, forks and glasses on each side and added a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne to the picture.

"Very well. Now to find those candles," she rummaged through the drawers, until she found a torch,"I'm sure, I'll be able to find ten similar ones." With that, she headed for the cellar.

Having finished showering and shampooing, Helga stepped out of the bathroom, and attended to the task of blow-drying her hair.

Everything was set and ready, and once Bob came home in-she checked the clock-forty-eight minutes, she would steer him into his favourite tv chair, hinting at the 'The Wheel' marathon, then bring him the newspaper, slippers and snacks, ensuring, he would not move from his seat for the next three hours.

More than enough time, for her and her mother to celebrate her birthday.

Plus, there was enough beer in the cooler to take him out for the night, if need be.

This would probably be the best birthday party she ever had.

"Miriam, I'm home!" bellowed Big Bob Pataki, as he entered.

He frowned, when he got no reply.

"What the hell is going on here," he growled,"all lights on, and nobody home? Wasting my hard-earned money again, huh?"

His hat and briefcase went sailing on the cupboard, followed by his coat, as he made his way into the darkened kitchen.

"Miriam! Where the heck is that wo-what is this?" he yelled, as his hand got caught in the banner hanging from the ceiling.

With an angry snarl, he tore it down, ripping it apart, even as his other hand found the light switch.

Blinking, he let his eyes roam the kitchen, then let them rest on the table.

"Oh well, at least there's a decent snack", he mumbled, as he stepped closer and reached or the knife.

His thick fingers brushed the envelope sitting next to a tiny box on one of the plates. Picking it up, he tried to decipher the words, but gave up, as his stomach started rumbling, and tossed the letter carelessly into a corner.

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Golden hairs flowed down in soft, shimmering curls, framing a slightly flushed, smiling face.

Wearing her best blue, white-trimmed dress with the big pink bow on the back, Helga practically floated down the stairs-

and stopped dead in her tracks, when she saw Bob stepping out of the kitchen, with what appeared to be at least half of her birthday cake in his hands, and the remains of her transparent clinging to his left ankle.

She watched in mute horror, as he bit off a big chunk of the sweet bakery, and tried to shake off the banner.

He saw her moving out of the corner of his eye, and ordered:

"Oh, Olga, good you're here, help me got off this annoying thing off my foot, will ya?"

Taking the last few steps down, she hushed:

"What do you think, you're doing, Bob?"

Frowning, he looked at her pale face, and roared:

"Hey, I'm trying not to choke on this piece of sugar-coated brimstone, what's it look like to you, Missy?" Glaring, she hissed:

"Well, it looks to me like you just ripped apart the banner I've been saving all my pocket money for, since none of you even remembered, that it's my birthday today! And why the hell are you eating my BIRTHDAY CAKE? Couldn't you at least wait, until I had blown out the candles?You insensitive, arrogant bastard! Everything was perfect, but you had to ruin it, like always, didn't you?!?"

Below, behind the closed cellar door, Miriam rummaged through different boxes and cartons. The noise she made, among with the closed door, swallowed every sound coming from upstairs.

Bob's jaw fell for all of two seconds, but his anger immediately caught up with him, and he yelled:

"How dare you speak like that to me, you little-"

"No, how dare you go and ruin my birthday party, the one I had to organize and prepare myself, because you're so busy selling those bloody beepers of yours, you don't even remember my name! Why, can't you, just for once in my life, do something for me, instead of throwing stones in my way?" Helga was close to crying but couldn't care less.

"And who do you think, gave you all the money to prepare this, huh? You better be grateful, I even let you and your little friends make a party in my house, you ungrateful brat!" screamed Bob, unconciously clenching his fists, causing the cake to crumble to the floor.

"What friends? I don't have any friends, except for Phoebe, and even she wouldn't come, because they all hate and despise you just as much as I do!" Bob drew a quick breath, then growled between clenched teeth:

"What do you mean, they-"

"That's right, Bob! Everybody and their mother hates you! You're selfish, ignorant, careless, stupi-"

WHACK!

His fist caught her dead in the face, causing her to stumble and fall backwards, screaming in pain. Her head hit the rim of the stairs, and another cry escaped her, as she felt the skin of her scalp torn open.

Sobbing, she held her head, dimly aware of Bob's gravely voice above her.

"If you ever use that tone on me, I'll send you to boot camp."

She saw the foot heading for her, but all she could do, was, to protect her face with her arms.

Hurt exploded in her stomach, cursed through her body and numbed all her senses.

"Get up, and clear the mess you left, girl."

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And another endless chapter finished. Only two more to go. Please remember to review, thanks.