The 15 minutes it took Biff to get home dragged on like hours. Even the presets on his radio were different! It was a frustrating ordeal. To top it all off, those high-heeled sandals he wore kept getting stuck under the accelerator, jerking the Mustang forward and really doing a number on his transmission. He couldn't wait to find out who was responsible for this and give them a beating they'd never forget. But first, he had to get out of these clothes.
Whoever was messing with him pulled out all the stops, Biff thought as he laid down on his bed. The tiny heather gray shorts he put on were a far cry from his lucky pair of sweats, but they were all he could find. At least the color was familiar, even if having the word "cheer" stretched across his behind wasn't.
The shock of walking into his newly pinked-out bedroom, coupled with a short glimpse into his top drawer almost made Biff panic. But, as the star captain of the football team, he'd couldn't let anyone see him sweat, could he? And that's how he got to where he was now -- he needed time to think.
And that's when his phone rang...
