p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Dr. Frank N. Furter's eye shadow was smeared, down his cheeks and onto his chest. The day he died—the day he was emmurdered/em—he hadn't looked his absolute best. Neither had Riff Raff and Magenta bothered to bury him./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" His eyes were closed. Then he opened them./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" His last thought had been emI'm dead/em. Not yet, not right then, but he had been anticipating it. They had seen him shiver with it, too, his rogue henchmen. They had been just as certain of his doom./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" But he didn't seem dead. Looking down at himself, he knew he had eyes and that they were in working order. He knew he had a body, and found that he could touch it. He wiped the blue smear beside his nipple to no effect; Max Factor was stubborn and steadfast that way./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Or perhaps he was dead, because he remembered careening into his personal pool, inside the spaceship that was cloaked to look like a spooky old castle. He wasn't in the water now; he wasn't even emwet/em. And he was outside./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" He raised his head to look around. Everyone else in the world seemed to be outside, too./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Fighting sudden wooziness, he took in colors most vividly first: jade green, scarlet red, wine purple, and so on. There were women in long dresses, but they were torn and many shoulders were bare. The men wore white shirts with sleeves that billowed out, but vests that were trim. And there was talk, alternately merry and violent, that rose and fell like discordant choir music. No one seemed to mind him. They were all so busy./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" A woman in a corset bustled by. That—the garment, not the woman—was a comforting sight. It was familiar, and familiarity was key./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Frank N. Furter widened his scope of vision still further to find that he lay in a heap of straw on the side of a dirt road. And the people around him were not quite bustling after all. They were not pushing those in front of them, but staggering into them. They were off-balanced, and unconcernedly so—laughing and screaming and slurring and shouting./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Far off, a couple was entwined in a manner just as familiar to the good doctor as corsets./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Frank sat up, considering. This was a strange place, and a strange predicament in which to find himself after his life had most assuredly ended. But, wherever he was, there was still free love, alcohol, and the final word in masochistic fashion: the versatile corset. "Not complaining," he said, struggling to a stand and brushing himself off./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" He followed the flow of people into a tavern, and immediately honed in on a fiery-tempered, redheaded female (Frank's favorite sort of lady). Her breasts were bouncing out of their leather cage as she bound toward a man whose back was to Frank./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" "Jack!" she cried, giving the man a name, and promptly slapped him across the face./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Frank moved in closer. But not too close./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" "You know, love," Jack was saying, shaking his head so that his braids and dreads trembled, "you could jus' say 'hello.'"/p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" "You emleft /emme," the woman screeched. "emAgain!/em"/p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Her features were familiar to Frank, not because of their shape but the expression she'd adopted: the pleading lines of a stretched, agonized mouth; the furious furrows deep in her forehead. Frank recognized her as a jilted woman, which meant that this Jack person was a jilter./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" In other words, he was a kindred spirit. A little smile surfaced on the good doctor's face, but he stayed still./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Jack had shifted his weight to one hip, and tilted his behatted head the same way. "I'm sorry—"/p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" "No," the woman huffed, "that's not good enough."/p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Jack was speechless a moment, but then recovered himself. He snaked an arm around the woman's waist, moving in for the kill (for so Frank thought of it). "May I make it up to you?" Jack whispered. Frank didn't hear it, and didn't have to: he was good at this game. He just kept his imperial eyes set on Jack's slithering form, crossing his own arms over his chest./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" But the woman pushed Jack away. "Not this time!" she said. /p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Frank clicked his teeth with his tongue, and began straightening his corset. emThe course of love never did run smooth/em, he thought. emEspecially when you have no transducer to grease the wheels. /emGlancing around—the lighting was dim and flickering, candle-lit—he primped his hair. Then he made his way over to the lovers in trouble, swinging his hips the whole way./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" His eyes were closed. Then he opened them./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" His last thought had been emI'm dead/em. Not yet, not right then, but he had been anticipating it. They had seen him shiver with it, too, his rogue henchmen. They had been just as certain of his doom./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" But he didn't seem dead. Looking down at himself, he knew he had eyes and that they were in working order. He knew he had a body, and found that he could touch it. He wiped the blue smear beside his nipple to no effect; Max Factor was stubborn and steadfast that way./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Or perhaps he was dead, because he remembered careening into his personal pool, inside the spaceship that was cloaked to look like a spooky old castle. He wasn't in the water now; he wasn't even emwet/em. And he was outside./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" He raised his head to look around. Everyone else in the world seemed to be outside, too./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Fighting sudden wooziness, he took in colors most vividly first: jade green, scarlet red, wine purple, and so on. There were women in long dresses, but they were torn and many shoulders were bare. The men wore white shirts with sleeves that billowed out, but vests that were trim. And there was talk, alternately merry and violent, that rose and fell like discordant choir music. No one seemed to mind him. They were all so busy./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" A woman in a corset bustled by. That—the garment, not the woman—was a comforting sight. It was familiar, and familiarity was key./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Frank N. Furter widened his scope of vision still further to find that he lay in a heap of straw on the side of a dirt road. And the people around him were not quite bustling after all. They were not pushing those in front of them, but staggering into them. They were off-balanced, and unconcernedly so—laughing and screaming and slurring and shouting./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Far off, a couple was entwined in a manner just as familiar to the good doctor as corsets./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Frank sat up, considering. This was a strange place, and a strange predicament in which to find himself after his life had most assuredly ended. But, wherever he was, there was still free love, alcohol, and the final word in masochistic fashion: the versatile corset. "Not complaining," he said, struggling to a stand and brushing himself off./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" He followed the flow of people into a tavern, and immediately honed in on a fiery-tempered, redheaded female (Frank's favorite sort of lady). Her breasts were bouncing out of their leather cage as she bound toward a man whose back was to Frank./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" "Jack!" she cried, giving the man a name, and promptly slapped him across the face./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Frank moved in closer. But not too close./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" "You know, love," Jack was saying, shaking his head so that his braids and dreads trembled, "you could jus' say 'hello.'"/p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" "You emleft /emme," the woman screeched. "emAgain!/em"/p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Her features were familiar to Frank, not because of their shape but the expression she'd adopted: the pleading lines of a stretched, agonized mouth; the furious furrows deep in her forehead. Frank recognized her as a jilted woman, which meant that this Jack person was a jilter./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" In other words, he was a kindred spirit. A little smile surfaced on the good doctor's face, but he stayed still./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Jack had shifted his weight to one hip, and tilted his behatted head the same way. "I'm sorry—"/p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" "No," the woman huffed, "that's not good enough."/p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Jack was speechless a moment, but then recovered himself. He snaked an arm around the woman's waist, moving in for the kill (for so Frank thought of it). "May I make it up to you?" Jack whispered. Frank didn't hear it, and didn't have to: he was good at this game. He just kept his imperial eyes set on Jack's slithering form, crossing his own arms over his chest./p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" But the woman pushed Jack away. "Not this time!" she said. /p
p style="margin: 20px 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" Frank clicked his teeth with his tongue, and began straightening his corset. emThe course of love never did run smooth/em, he thought. emEspecially when you have no transducer to grease the wheels. /emGlancing around—the lighting was dim and flickering, candle-lit—he primped his hair. Then he made his way over to the lovers in trouble, swinging his hips the whole way./p