Biff scowled back at him. Apparently, he didn’t have time for cute.
‘Start talkin’, kid. What else do you know about that book?’
Marty stuck the matchbook in his pocket. Biff was playing right into his hands. Now, if he could just get him to tell him a little bit more.
‘First,’ Marty demanded, ‘you tell me how you got it. How, when, where -’
Biff stared at him for another minute.
‘All right,’ he agreed at last. He stood up and turned to the oil painting behind him - a full-size portrait of Biff, like he was royalty or something.
He swung the painting out on its hinges, revealing the wall safe behind.
‘November 12 1955,’ he called over his shoulder as he started on the first of the three combination locks. ‘That was when.’
‘1955?’ Marty asked. It couldn’t be! ’November 12, 1955? But thats the day I went-’ He stopped himself, confused. His nerves were showing.
‘I mean.’ Marty started again, that was the date of the big lightning storm!’
Biff nodded, setting to work on the second lock.
‘You know your history. Very good. I'll never forget that Saturday. I was pickin’ up my car from the shop, rolled it in a drag race a few days earlier.’
Drag race? Marty almost laughed.
‘I thought you crashed it into a manure truck.’
Biff stopped and glanced back at Marty.
'How do you know about that?’
Uh-oh. He shouldn't know about that, should he? Marty grinned a little sheepishly.
‘Oh - uh - my father told me about it - uh - before he died.'
Biff grunted and went back to opening the third lock.
So he bought it. Good. Marty had almost blown it. It wouldn't do to let Biff in on all Marty knew.
‘Well,’ Biff continued, there I was, mindin' my own business, and this crazy old codger with a cane shows up. He says he's my distant relative. I don't know if he is - he doesn’t even look like me.’ The last tumbler clicked into place. Biff reached for the safe handle.
‘So, he says. "How would you like to be rich?” I says, sure," so he lays this book on me.‘
Biff opened the safe. He pulled a box off the centre shelf, then dug a key out of his pocket and unlocked the box. He grinned and pulled the Sports Almanac out for Marty to see.
Marty had to admit it; The book didn’t look like much, unless you knew what it was - especially now that it had seen thirty years of wear and tear. The dust jacket was gone, the pages were worn and turning yellow, there were even a couple of what looked like mustard stains on the spine.
Biff handed the book over to him so that Marty could get a closer look. Marty couldn't believe It. Biff was actually giving it to him!
‘He says this book will tell me the outcome of every sporting event ’til the end of the century.’ Biff continued. ‘All I have to do is bet on the winner, and I’ll never lose.’ He Chuckled. ‘Naturally. I think he’s full of it. So I say ” What's the catch?” And he says. "No catch, just keep it a secret.“ Then he says. "Biff Tannen. you’re one lucky guy.” After that, he disappeared and I never saw him again.'
Without warning. Biff plucked the Sports Almanac out of Marty’s hands. Marty realised he should have turned and run while he had the chance, but he had been in a bit of shock, to actually see the book.
It was too late now. Biff had already stuck the book back in its box, and put the box on its shelf in the safe, then closed and locked the door. Apparently, show-and-tell was over. He turned back to Marty.
‘Oh.' he added, almost as an afterthought. He casually opened his desk drawer. ‘The old man told me one more thing. He said, someday a crazy, wild-eyed scientist or a kid may show up asking about this book. And if that ever happens-’
Biff pulled a .38 out of the drawer and pointed it straight at Marty's head.