I make no excuses for this except that the plot bunny bit my leg and wouldn't let go until I wrote this.
Standard disclaimers apply- I don't own anything except some orange peel- which you can have if you really want.
Frank dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin and smiled. Before him lay what had once been a perfectly cooked Piccata of Veal Viennoise. Gripping his glass in one hand, he lazily snapped the fingers of his other in a signal which should have brought one of the two servant siblings scurrying out of the kitchen to clear the table. Nothing happened. He snapped his fingers a little louder. Nothing continued to happen. Scowling now, Frank bellowed "Are you two bloody deaf? Get in here now!" Riff Raff and Magenta failed to materialise.
Frank stood, slamming his glass on the table and stalked out of the room. As he strode down the corridors to the servants' quarters, a strange rhythmic sound reached his ears and he slowed to listen to it. It appeared to come from the room Magenta, Columbia and on occasions Riff Raff shared (though not all at once unless they were feeling particularly kinky). Curious as to what Frizzy and Greasy (as he mentally called them) were up to, he placed his eye to the keyhole and watched, aghast at the sight which met his eyes. Sure, as a Transylvanian he made it his business to indulge in the occasional act of debauchery, 'But even I never sank that low' he thought squeamishly.
Finally, he could take it no longer. With a quick wrench of the doorknob he burst into the room crying, "You are both crazed and sadistic monsters- deranged, disturbed and utterly deficient in any sense of decorum or taste. Your proclivities exceed even mine in their total disregard for any moral boundary. I am glad, nay, proud to be able to say that never, at any time of my life, have I had the desire to commit such an abomination- and if I did I'd keep the bloody noise down!" With that, he slammed the door behind him and left.
Riff Raff and Magenta waited in silence for a few minutes, occasionally shooting shamefaced glances at each other. When he was certain Frank was out of earshot, Riff reached over and turned the Radio up again- allowing the familiar strains of "Dancing Queen" to once more fill the room.
Riff and Mags are closet ABBA fans- who knew? Please leave constructive criticism/ adulation in the form of a review.