Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show

A/N: So... I'm starting a new story. Hopefully it's at least somewhat readable and (maybe) good enough to be reviewed.

This takes place in the 1950s. Yes, I know that the movie takes place in the 1970s. But after watching a filmed version of the play (and re-watching the) I couldn't help but think it would make more sense in the 50s. Eddie's a '50s Greaser, Brad & Janet are THE stereotypical innocent '50s couple... the only stuff that makes the movie not take place in the 1950s are the Richard Nixon thing and the vaguely '60s-style clothes. Only stuff in the (alien!) castle isn't very 1950s-style.

I was born in '39, soon after my father went off to fight in the war. He came back only a few years later, with all sortsa medals and things sayin' how brave he was. Ma was very proud of this. But she wasn't so proud when she found Papa all dressed up in one of her sweaters a coupla years later.

It was about midnight. My little sister Nell and I couldn't help but wake up when we heard them shouting. We were supposed to be sleeping. I was 14 and she only seven, you see. But with them shouting not even the neighbors could sleep (or so it seemed).

He's been working late that night, he said. That happened a lot. Though now Ma knew it wasn't ever true. Apparently he'd gone out to a bar all dressed up in

"LEAVE, Davis. You aren't my husband anymore," she tells him.

Years later I could still hear it in my mind. Her last words to him. They never got a divorce written up all proper-like since she never wanted to look at him again.

It was soon after she said those awful words that Nell began to cry and they noticed us. Papa wouldn't look any of us in the eye, and he still wore one of Ma's outfits. It didn't look bad on him, though. Or wrong. But Ma was really upset at him.

"I will leave then," Papa said quietly

Then, he left the house. I quickly followed… as did little Nell.

"Can I go with you?" the poor thing asked, cryin' still.

But I knew she couldn't follow me. Something awful might happen and she needed to go to school for a while longer. As I kneeled down beside her she grabbed onto the sweater I wore. As if she hoped that such a thing could keep me from leaving her and Ma!

"Shh, Nell. It'll be better for you here. Stay with Ma for now."

"Will you come get me one day?" she asked, still clutching onto my sweater.

"Of course," I promised.

Then, she let go of my sweater and I got into Papa's old car.

Sadly I never got the chance t' see my dear little sister again. She died when she was nine of something awful that went 'round the school. Though at least I still have a picture of her. Her face is solemn and pale, but at least I'll always remember dear little Nell.

"Where are we goin'?" I asked.

Still not looking me in the eye, he didn't say a word. We drove and drove for a while. Finally, he did speak.

"Why did you choose to follow me, Laura?" he asked wearily.

"Ma is always shouting at us, but you don't. And I wanted to make sure you aren't sad or alone now that Mama made you leave. Speaking of which, where will we go now?"

As far as I knew he didn't have friends or close acquaintances. Later, I realized how very wrong I was about that…

"Oh, I think Vicky will help us."

"Who?"

He smiled. "You'll see."

For what seemed like hours, but probably wasn't, we drove. After ages we finally reached a shady looking area of a town I'd never been to. It frightened me, so I clung close to Papa once we got out of the car. It was about then that the fact that my father was wearing brunette wig styled like my mother's hair registered in my mind. Not to mention the fact that he wore clothes that technically belonged to her…

Once we entered a nearby building, however, I couldn't think about such things. No, I was to busy gaping at all the strangeness that surrounded me.

We were in some sort of cabaret. A woman wearing far too much makeup and a garishly glittery outfit was standing on a stage serenading the crowd with a song.

"That's queen on the stage is Vicky," Papa whispered. "She's a very different person. That is, different from anything you've seen. Don't be scared or anything. She's really nice once you see past all the glitter and lipstick."

I nodded, not really hearing what he said.

Before, I'd never seen that side of my father. Usually he wore a business suit and never really said anything. But at that strange cabaret he fit in almost too well. I really liked that. The people seemed very nice, and many of them wore dresses. Thanks to their confusing senses of fashion I wasn't sure who was a guy and who was a girl.

Though it didn't really matter. I was too tired to really do anything but stand there aimlessly and wonder what had happened over the past few hours. By then it was about two AM, somehow…

Just as I was falling asleep leaning against the wall, a young man (?) walked over to us. He was thin and rather feminine in face and body structure. In fact, if it weren't for the person's (apparent) lack of breast and men's clothes I would've thought he was a girl!

"It's a good thing you showed up when ya did," he said. "Vicky performed almost all night. From seven in the evening to – don't know how she does it!"

Papa laughed. "She's quite the performer. But did she agree to see me?"

"Yeah. Should I show you to her dressing room?"

Papa nodded.

Then, we followed the young man to the backstage area. There were a variety of people standing around. I even caught a bit of a conversation between to stagehands.

"- though at least she's not as bad as Lady Lucie," one stagehand was saying.

"Agreed. That old queen was too much for me. I was glad when they fired her," the other replied.
I smiled strangely as we followed the young man. This place was like a whole new world! Slang I didn't understand… strangely dressed people…

What surprised me the most, though, was the person called 'Vicky'...

A/N: The reason she had a random sister named 'Nell' is only partially a reference to 'Little Nell' Campbell. It's more of a shout-out to The Old Curiosity Shop, which involves a girl named 'Little Nell' Trent dying of a horrid Victorian Novel Sickness. That's also why Columbia's last name is always 'Trent' in my stories.

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