Author's note: none of these characters are mine except for Katie Majors. None of the music that characters sing in this chapter or any others is mine.
I sigh as the newly-wed Ralph and Betty and their crowd of friends and family excitedly run out of the Denton Episcopalian Church. Betty's dark hair is curled and hair-sprayed half to death, covered with an awful ruffled white veil, her dress a glossy white thing with puffed sleeves. Ralph's blonde hair is slicked back and he's wearing a white suit with a black tie. A creepy little photographer takes some pictures of the couple and their family, then Ralph goes over to my dork of a brother, Brad, and starts to talk to him. Brad is a young, awkward man with big, black-rimmed glasses. As they're speaking, Betty throws her bouquet, and for once in her life, Janet, Brad's girlfriend, manages to do something physical. She catches the bouquet. Good for her, I suppose. She's a blonde, with big brown doe eyes, a high-pitched voice, and goody-two-shoes virgin written all over her. I see it in my brother's eyes when, after another couple of words from Ralph, Brad decides to propose to her. I couldn't hear what Ralph said to him, but it was probably something along the lines of "Hey, maybe you and Janet will get hitched next!" Ralph and his bride get into their car, which is newly decorated with the words, "Wait til tonight! She got hers, now he'll get his!", and drive off, and the crowd dissolves, leaving me (the ignored third wheel), Brad, and Janet. I hear a distant boom of thunder, a storm seems to be moving in. Janet blathers on about how lovely the wedding was, as Brad finally works his way around to pulling out a ring, dropping it in the process, and asking her to marry him. She agrees, of course, and admires the ring like the materialist she is, comparing it to Betty's. Then Janet and Brad decide that they absolutely must visit Dr. Scott, the teacher of the class where they first met. Now, I don't much mind the old man, who's like a mentor to us all, and I haven't seen him in quite a while, so I interject. "Hey, I'll come along too."
Brad and Janet look startled. It figures, they forgot I was there. "Oh!" Brad exclaims then, calmer, replies, "Well, that's a good idea, since you were in Romania when Janet and I drove over to see him last vacation, Katie." Janet quickly agrees. I think she might be slightly afraid of me. I'm 5'4" and weigh just around a hundred pounds, but with my tendency toward clunky rings and heavy heels, the one time she ever saw me get into a fight, I won, by a long shot, and she's tread carefully around me ever since.
And so, the three of us end up driving through a heavy rainstorm, Brad and Janet in the front seat, me in the back, my legs stretched across the two seats next to mine. Janet reads a newspaper and eats a chocolate bar while the president talks on the radio about leaving office. We get passed by several motorcyclists, and Brad and Janet make a couple of comments about how dangerous motorcycling in such weather is, my brother sounding particularly condescending about it. Then suddenly, Brad brakes and the car comes to a stop, making me come to attention.
"What's the matter, Brad darling?" Asks Janet. 'Brad darling'? God, do I hate her. There's a sign in front of the car that reads "Dead End," so I would think it's pretty obvious what the matter is.
"I think we took the wrong fork a few miles back," Brad tells her.
"Oh dear! But then... where did the motorcyclists come from?" Janet wonders.
"Hmm... I guess we just have to turn back." Brad tells her.
"No shit, Sherlock," I finally chime in, feeling a desperate need to end their insipid conversation. I get ignored for my efforts, as Brad puts the car in reverse... then a wheel skids, and there's a loud pop.
"What was that bang?" Janet questions my brother, alarmed.
"We must have a blowout," he tells her, "Damnit! I knew I should have gotten that spare tire fixed. You'd better sit here and keep warm while I go for help."
"But where will you go? We're in the middle of nowhere," she protests.
"Didn't we pass a castle back down the road a few miles? Maybe they have a phone I might use," Brad says, unbuckling his seat belt.
"I'm coming with you," Janet says.
"So am I," I interject, "If I let you go out there alone, god knows you'll trip and fall and crack your fool head open, and then we'll get no help at all. And we can't leave Janet here alone. So we all go." Neither of them disagrees; the huge torrents of rain have made the road muddy and treacherous. They know I'm right. We get out of the car, Janet holding a newspaper over her blond-haired head, though the rain drips off of it and onto her face.
We walk along the road for a while, then we see the silhouette of a castle against the light of the stormy night sky, a flag flying from the turret. We follow the driveway to the gateway of the castle. A flash of lightning illuminates a painted cardboard sign on the wrought iron gate that reads, "ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK."
As my brother, his fiancé, and I walk towards the castle, a convoy of motorcyclists roars past us.
We approach the front door, which has strange statues of birds on either side of it, and Janet suddenly whines, "Oh, Brad, let's go back! I'm cold and I'm frightened." I roll my big brown eyes at her, shivering slightly, being every bit as cold and wet as her.
"Just a moment, Janet. They may have a phone," Brad replies. For once, he's not agreeing with her! I appreciate it.
"Besides, we've got to get out of this rain before we catch hypothermia," I tell her.
My brother rings the doorbells, which makes a strange clanking noise, and after a moment, the door creaks open, and we hear throbbing music distantly, as if there's a party going on inside. A hunchbacked servant emerges, and greets us in a dull, nasally voice, "Hello." He's as pale a person as I've ever seen, with long, greasy blonde locks framing a severely receding hairline.
"Hi! My name is Brad Majors," Brad says, offering his hand. The Igor-like man makes no move to shake it, and my brother awkwardly keeps talking, "This is my fiancé, Janet Weiss, and my sister, Katie Majors. I wondered if you might help us. Our car broke down a few miles up the road. Do you have a phone we might use?" Brad babbles embarrassingly, and I wonder if it's too late for my family to disown him.
"You're wet," the hunchback says, ignoring Bard's request as he eyes our rain-drenched selves.
I can't help the sexual innuendo that pops out of my mouth. "Oh, yes, I am," I say with a smirk, and I see my smirk somewhat mirrored back at me from the face of the hunchback, while my brother and future sister-in-law choose to ignore me the way the servant ignored Brad's request to use a phone.
"Yes, it's raining," Janet tells the Igor-like man, pretending that I hadn't spoken.
"Yes," Brad says.
"Oh," the hunchback says, rather disdainfully.
A flash of lightning illuminates a row of motorcycles parked outside the castle.
"I think perhaps you had better all come inside," the hunchback says in that ghostly voice of his.
"You're too kind," Janet tells him, but I have to wonder. Is he? He seems creepy, his pale blue eyes cold and soulless. Oh, well, I think, we have far better odds if we go with him instead of dying of the cold and wet out here. He leads us inside and down a stairway. The music becomes louder as we get closer to its source.
"Oh, Brad, I'm frightened. What kind of place is this?" Janet whines.
"Oh, it's probably some kind of hunting lodge for rich weirdos," Brad reassures her.
We arrive at a hallway at the bottom of the stairs.
"This way," the hunchback says.
"Are you... giving a party?" Janet asks.
"No. You've arrived on a rather special night. It's one of the master's affairs."
"Oh. Lucky him," she replies awkwardly.
"He's lucky," exclaims a woman in a maid's outfit with a thick accent and wild, curly reddish-brown hair, and she slides down the banister of the stairs, tossing a feather duster to the hunchback. Brad and Janet look at her in shock as she continues, "You're lucky, I'm lucky, we're all lucky!"
My brother and his fiancé look rather unnerved by the domestic's outburst. They look back to the hunchback as a coffin-shaped grandfather clock starts to chime. He opens the grandfather clock to reveal a skeleton covered in cobwebs, and as Brad and Janet clutch each other tightly, the hunchback begins to sing.
"It's astounding. Time is fleeting. Madness takes its toll," he says in his low voice, "but listen closely."
"Not for very much longer," goes the wild-haired woman, crowding up behind us.
"I've got to keep control..." Suddenly he begins to dance in an extraordinary fashion, dashing around the room, kicking and stomping. "I remember doing the time warp," he sings in a louder, grating voice. Brad and Janet look amazed. "Drinking those moments when the blackness would hit me," Janet clings to my brother, looking frightened, as the hunchback meets the curly-haired woman and they sing in unison, "And the void would be calling,"
The hunchback opens a set of doors marked "BALLROOM," and we find ourselves in a huge red and white ballroom. At the furthest end of the room is a throne-like chair in front of a red curtain, on a stage with stairs on the entire front of it. A red carpet extends from the throne to the door we currently stand in. An official banner suspended over the ballroom announces that it is the Annual Transylvanian Convention. Transylvania, like the land where vampires come from? I wonder to myself. In the body of the room is a crowd of guests dressed in strange but elegant evening wear. A party spirit prevails, and they throw their arms out to the hunchback as if in a plea.
"Let's do the time warp again!" The guests sing in unison, and repeat themselves, "Let's do the time warp again! It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right!" They sing as they perform the dance they describe, "With your hands on your hips, you bring your knees in tight! But it's the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane! Let's do the time warp again!" Janet faints into Brad's arms as the guests sing and dance, "Let's do the time warp again!"
Janet is back on her feet as the wild-haired domestic starts to sing in her accented voice, "It's so dreamy, oh! Fantasy free me! So you can't see me, no, not at all. In another dimension, with voyeuristic intention, well secluded, I see all."
"With a bit of a mind flip," the hunchback sings in his low voice.
"You're into the time slip," continues the domestic,
"And nothing can ever be the same,"
"You're freaked out on sensation,"
"Like you're under sedation!" The hunchback sings loudly, dancing, and Janet faints into Brad's arms once again, and he starts patting her face to try to revive her.
"Let's do the time warp again!" The crowd sings. The music is catchy, and I find myself nodding along, and joining on the repeat, "Let's do the time warp again!"
A ginger-haired woman with drawn-on eyebrows, wearing a sequined, circus-ringleader-esque gold and black outfit starts to sing in a nasal voice, "Well I was walking down the street, just having a think, when a snake of a guy gave me an evil wink! Well, it shook me up, it took me by surprise! He had a pickup truck, and the devil's eyes! He stared at me, and I felt a change! Time meant nothing, never would again!"
"Let's do the time warp again!" Sings the dancing crowd, and I join them, "Let's do the time warp again! It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right! With your hands on your hips, you bring your knees in tight! But it's the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane! Let's do the time warp again! Let's do the time warp again!" They sing and dance as I do so with them, while Janet and Brad stare at them and me. The ginger girl starts tap-dancing across the room, as the crowd stares at her, then she bumps into the stairs and stops. "Let's do the time warp again! Let's do the time warp again!" The crowd sings, as Brad and Janet start to edge toward the door, "It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right! With your hands on your hips, you bring your knees in tight! But it's the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane! Let's do the time warp again! Let's do the time warp again!" The song ends, and the crowd drops to the floor like flies exhausted, and I walk back over to my brother and his fiancé.
"Oh... say something," Janet says to Brad urgently.
"Say! Do any of you know the Madison?" He asks the crowd, and they all sit up and look at him, murmuring a bit. I roll my eyes at him.
"Brad, please, let's get out of here," Janet pleads, as they back through the door into the hallway, clutching each other.
"For God's sake, keep a grip on yourself, Janet," Brad tells her, and for once I couldn't agree with him more.
"But it seems so unhealthy here," she protests.
"Unhealthy? They were just singing and dancing," I say, exasperated with her.
"It's just a party, Janet," he tells her firmly.
"Well I want to go," she says stubbornly.
"Well, we can't go anywhere until I get to a phone."
"Then ask the butler or someone."
"Just a moment, Janet, we don't want to interrupt their celebrations."
They're backing into a lift. A lift on which someone is descending. Someone wearing stiletto heels and a black cloak.
"This isn't the Junior Chamber of Commerce, Brad," Janet continues protesting.
"They're probably foreigners with ways different from our own. They may do some more folk dancing," he tells her. I snort at his calling what they did "folk dancing."
"Brad, I'm cold, I'm wet, and I'm just plain scared," she says to him desperately. The band has started to play a new beat.
"I'm here, there's nothing to worry about," he assures her.
The lift has finally reached the floor, the cloaked figure inside turned with their back to us, then the figure turns around. It's a man, with thick, pale makeup, deep red lipstick, and heavy, dark eyeshadow that extends up to his overdrawn eyebrows. His hair is thick, black, curly, and chin-length, his eyes a deep green. Janet screams at the top of her lungs and faints into Brad's arms again.
"How do you do? I see you've met my faithful handyman," The man sings in a delicious, dramatic, accented voice, "He's just a little brought down, because when you knocked, he thought you were the candy man." His facial expressions are as dramatic and delicious as his voice, and I'm utterly transfixed by him. "Don't get strung out by the way I look," he sings as he strides into the ballroom and over to the throne, and Janet and Brad follow him as far as into the room, "Don't judge a book by its cover. I'm not much of a man by the light of day, but by night I'm one hell of a lover."
"I'd love to experience that," I mumble.
He flings off his cloak on to the throne, revealing a black corset and panties, lacy gloves, thigh-high fishnets, and garters. There's a string of big pearls around his neck, and he has a tattoo on his right upper arm, of the word "Boss" in fancy capital letters above a red heart with a knife through it, three drops of blood below. He walks back across the room towards Janet and Brad, singing, "I'm just a sweet transvestite, from Transsexual, Transylvania. Let me show you around, maybe play you a sound, you look like you're all pretty groovy," he pushes my brother and his fiancé to the center of the room, "Or if you want something visual, that's not too abysmal, we could take in an old Steve Reeves movie."
"I'm glad we caught you at home," Brad says awkwardly, "Ah, could we use your phone? We're all in a bit of a hurry."
"Right," Janet agrees.
"Speak for yourself," I murmur.
The tall cross-dresser goes to a table and fills a paper cup with water, takes a couple of sips, then starts greeting his guests and shaking their hands. They all seem adoring of him, almost as adoring as I'm feeling, though I keep it to myself.
"We'll just say where we are, then go back to the car. We don't want to be any worry," Brad tells the 'sweet transvestite,' who tosses his paper cup of water away and starts singing in reply.
"So you got caught with a flat?" We never said that, I realize, and I know I should feel alarmed, that should be a red flag, but somehow... it isn't. It somehow feels perfectly right that he should know that. "Well, how about that? Well, babies, don't you panic. By the light of the night, it'll all seem alright. I'll get you a satanic mechanic. I'm just a sweet transvestite, from Transsexual Transylvania," the hypnotic cross-dresser sings and dances back over to the throne. He sits on it sideways, his legs sprawled across one of the arms of the thing. The ginger girl, the hunchback, and the wild-haired woman all stand around him as he continues to sing, "Why don't you stay for the night, or maybe a bite. I could show you my favorite obsession."
Please do, I think to myself.
"I've been making a man, with blond hair and a tan, and he's good for relieving my tension," he slowly, sensually, starts to stand up, "I'm just a sweet transvestite, from Transsexual, Transylvania," The ginger and the hunchback climb into the throne as he leaves it, sitting with their backs against each other, "I'm just a sweet transvestite, from Transsexual, Transylvania." He strides across the room again, pushing through Brad and Janet and parting the crowd, and gets back into the lift. "So, come up to the lab, and see what's on the slab. I see you shiver with antici-" he pauses, smirking, as everyone stares at him, and after several long, silent seconds, he finishes the word and keeps singing, "-pation. But maybe the rain is really to blame! So I'll remove the cause..." he closes the metal folding door of the lift, chuckling, "...but not the symptom." The lift whirs and ascends, taking him away.