Back to the Future Read Online Free PDF Page B

days.
    Biff Tannen wasn’t through yet, however. As he turned to leave, he looked down at the ground.
    “Oh, hey, McFly,” he said matter-of-factly. “Your shoe’s untied.”
    “Huh?” George said, falling for it by glancing down at his feet.
    As he did so, Biff’s hand flew up, hitting George in the chin. A grating guffaw split the air, Biff Tannen having executed his idea of a terrific practical joke.
    “Don’t be so gullible, McFly!” he shouted. “Boy, you haven’t learned a thing in thirty years.”
    George, pleading guilty to the charge with his silence, could only grin weakly.
    Oblivious to the fact that Marty viewed him with disgust, Biff pointed to his sparkling new Cadillac nearby and winked. “Hiya, kid,” he said, just as if there had been no bad words between them. “How do you like my new paint job?”
    Marty shrugged.
    A moment later, Biff and his newly painted car were heading down the road. George McFly started to walk into the house. Marty stepped in front of him.
    Raising his hands, George stepped away. “I know what you’re going to say, son, and you’re right,” he murmured. “You’re absolutely right. But he happens to be my supervisor, and I’m afraid I’m just not very good at confrontations.”
    “Confrontations,” Marty shot back, “you don’t even practice self-defense.”
    George didn’t answer.
    “Dad, look at the car,” Marty persisted. “Look what he did to the car. He nearly totaled it. And then he concocted some story about a blind spot. He blamed the wreck on you and you didn’t say a thing!”
    “Well, you can’t argue with a person like that,” George said feebly.
    “Look at that car,” Marty continued. “It’s a mess. I was counting on using it tomorrow night. Do you have any idea how important this was to me, Dad? Do you have any idea at all?”
    Not knowing that Marty was planning to take Jennifer away in the vehicle, it was not possible for George McFly to understand how much the trip truly meant to Marty.
    “I’m sorry, son,” he muttered. “All I can say is I’m very sorry.”
    For Marty that wasn’t enough and the infuriating events of the day would not let him back off. “Dad, did it ever occur to you to say ‘no’ to people when they start pushing you around? Is that so hard?”
    “Son, I know it’s hard for you to understand,” George said with maddening calmness, “but the fact is, I’m just not a fighter.”
    “Try it once, Dad,” Marty challenged. “Just one time, say ‘no.’ N-O. ‘No.’ It won’t hurt nearly as much as you think.”
    George shrugged.
    I give up, Marty thought, I can’t even get him to say “no” to the idea of saying “no.”
    George McFly turned away, finding it easier to look at the damaged front of his car than at Marty’s accusing and disappointed eyes. He envied other men, macho types who taught their boys how to fight, encouraged them to be combative, stand up for their rights. These men invariably pushed their male offspring into organized sports, bragging when their boys won a big game, browbeating the lads when they took the final strike of the game with their bats on their shoulders. For his part, George McFly was secretly pleased when his sons Marty and Dave declined to take part in sports. At least he was off the emotional hook.
    During his frequent moods of quiet self-analysis, George McFly managed to dissect his psyche, for he did worry about his own lack of grit. He thought it all went back to one occasion in grade school when he was accosted by the class bully. The bully had just punched his friend Billy Stockhausen and for a split second George was so angry he literally saw the red that everyone talks and writes about. Stepping up to the bully, he pulled his fist back—
    And couldn’t strike. The bully merely smirked and walked away. Since that moment thirty-five years ago, George had wondered what might have happened if he had followed through. His happiest fantasy was that