Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with RHPS. All Richard's. I'm making absolutely no profit whatsoever (though, you know, if you want to send me money...)
Have to admit, I got this idea from the latest chapter of Rose Tinted World by FrankieFan82. The idea of Columbia/Rocky intrigues me... hope you don't mind!
All was silent in the Furter castle – a rare feat indeed, considering the sort of company that the young Prince liked to keep.
But fortunately for those who enjoy listening for dropping pins, Frank had been lured into an early night by a steaming bubble bath, a sinfully large box of chocolates and a Steptoe and Son marathon that the bathroom monitor so generously provided him with.
Similarly, the handyman and the domestic were at that moment being softly lulled to sleep by the calming croon of Johnny Fontane after a strenuous game of Raid-The-Master's-Personal-Fridge and a subsequently luxurious evening of champagne sipping, oyster slurping and love making (courtesy of the slightly frozen handful of contraceptives and Viagra tucked cosily between the giant strawberries and herbal teabags to help Frank adjust to the warmer climate of Earth).
There wasn't much change in the freezer – it's occupant in a drug induced coma and frozen to within an inch of his life – but if Eddie was conscious then surely he'd appreciate the calmness and distinct lack of screams aimed in his direction.
Even the dogs had hushed up, thanks to an especially tender cut of beef Magenta had tossed them, and had been reduced from snarling wolves into snuffling puppies.
Ah yes. A seldom seen cloud of tranquillity seemed to shroud the ancient building, coating the drab bricks with a sheen of contentedness. Illuminating the grubby windows with satisfaction. Filling the musty air with the sweet and exotic perfume of rest. You could almost hear the castle sigh, glad to have a night free from dancing feet, screaming Earthlings and Frank. In fact the whole area seemed to send out an aura of clean sheets, soft pillows and absolute silence…
"Bloody, buggering hell!" a screechy violin-type sound shattered the peace – yet, coming from the deepest bowels of the castle, only elicited a cursory mumble from Frank who was slowly turning into a prune in his now-completely-free-of-bubbles bath.
Columbia, the resident groupie, had failed to succumb to the castle's heavy-lidded atmosphere and continued to hop up and down, cursing squeakily, nursing her stubbed toe, "Hell's teeth!" ooh, it was a biggie! She'd thacked it right off The Creation's tank!
"C'mon, little piggy," she bit her bottom lip and winced as she gingerly placed her unnaturally red toe on the floor, "Oooo-aaaaa!" she sucked in her breath sharply and leaned against the tank for support.
She pouted and whacked the covered rectangle spitefully, "Can't you stop wrecking my life?" she wailed, "First you take my Frankie: he works on you all day and night – virtually ignores everyone else!" she steamed, "Then, as if that wasn't enough for you, you had to go and take my Eddie too!" she held back a small sob as she stared mournfully at the freezer, practically miles away from where she was leaning, "And now, you're taking my ice cream away!" she moaned childishly and kicked the tank, "Ouch!" bad idea.
She collapsed onto the floor and sat cross-legged, making her feet into a basket, feeling very sorry for herself. All she wanted was some damn ice cream! Was that too much to ask? Surely the fates would not begrudge her a nice big scoop of artery clogging Deep Fried Chocolate Bubblegum Milkshake. Hell, she'd ever settle for Frank's non-dairy, non-fat, non-delicious frozen yoghurt – just something soft and pliable that she could cram down her throat whilst she watched soppy romances on the monitor – Gilda was about to start! She sobbed inelegantly into her much-too-big ratty old PJ's. She had long since stopped wearing the sexy negligees and see-through teddies that Magenta so boldly strutted around the castle in – but then, Magenta actually had someone to dress up for!
Even if it was her brother.
Columbia upped the ante, tears spurted out of her eyes like cannonballs – obese droplets that plopped onto her holey bottoms and spread out like starfish along her thighs – but that was nothing compared to the snot that gushed from her nose like some sick satire of a waterfall.
"Oh, Eddie," she whispered. He could always cheer her up. He'd make some joke about her crumpled up face and tweak her nose until he got a giggle out of her. He'd call her 'Babe' and tell her that everything would work out and start spouting some corny old Casablanca-type sayings before giving her one of his special bear hugs. Oh, Eddieeeeeee!
The there was Frank. She almost smiled as she imagined his reaction. He'd get uncomfortable, scold her half-heartedly, try to be firm, tell her that she looked hideous with her eyeliner smudged drown to her chin. He'd get that huffy, offended look when she cried even harder and look kind of guilty before stropping off somewhere. Then, later on, she'd find a Frank-N-Furter monogrammed hankie along with some small expensive chocolates from his private selection and a coupon for some 'Free Pleasure' placed tenderly on her pillow. Oh, Frankieeeeeeeee!
Why does everything have to be so hard?
She sniffled pathetically and patted the tank weakly, "Sorry for hitting you," she smiled forlornly, "I know you didn't mean to ruin everything."
Columbia closed her eyes and took a deep, long, cleansing breath that got stuck in her throat – finally allowing the soothing atmosphere to do it's job. She couldn't quite hear a pin drop, but she could have sworn she heard a kind of… rippling? As if something was poking its head out of water…
"OMG!" She shrieked and jumped up. "The Creation!" she yelped as she located the source of the rippling sound.
Her screams seemed to frighten the poor thing as she heard a small whimper and then a splash as if it had ducked back down underwater.
"Oh no," she murmured motherly, "I didn't mean to scare you!" she called, stroking the satin of the red cover. She murmured soothing type phrases until she head a small plip indicating that The Creation had bobbed its head above water level.
"Hey, little guy," she cooed through the scarlet – she could barely make out a sort of shape through the material, "Let me get a look at you, huh?"
The Creation whimpered again and made small moan, but did not protest as Columbia slowly and tentatively peeled the cover away, exposing The Creation in all its blonde, tanned glory.
"Golly, golly," she whispered as she took in the muscle-bound hunk before her, "You're a pretty one, aren't you?" she muttered in awe of the cowering mass of bronzed handsome-ness before her.
She closed her gaping mouth and blushed, feeling like a crushing school-girl all over again.
The Creation blinked up at her with gentle blue eyes and, much to her surprise, blushed too, ducking his head until his nose skimmed the liquid around him.
"What's wrong, little guy?" it was hardly an appropriate nickname – she could tell that if he stood up she'd only come up to about his groin…. Ooh. She turned redder than Magenta's lipstick at the thought.
"Lady pretty," he stated bashfully in a voice that sounded forced (then again, he did have half a brain – and it belonged to Eddie, who was always a few slices short of a pizza).
"Pffft, you sweet liar! I look a right mess!" she wasn't sure if wearing no make-up was a plus or a minus – at least she didn't have hideous black streaks across her face, but without a few coats of foundation, powder and concealer, her skin looked dingier and more washed-out than an old tea towel. Not to mention puffy and red from all the melodramatic sobs.
But The Creation didn't seem to quite process her words, instead he shook his head in a baffled-type way and repeated, "Lady pretty," in a forceful, demanding kind of way, "But sad," he added, flashing his beautiful blues at her inquisitorially.
She gave him a watery snot and nodded, "Yup," she bobbed her head and sighed, not wanting to get into it.
"Why?" he frowned in a concerned sort of way.
"Because…," she knew that if she started talking about her boyfriend woes then she'd never be able to stop. They'd be there for hours whilst she relayed every agonising detail to the nodding creature – not stopping at Frankie and Eddie – but droning on and on until The Creation would be able to write a biography about her pitiful life, "Because I stubbed my toe."
"That all?" The Creation raised an eyebrow sceptically.
Geezo, he sure was smart for a glorified inflatable doll, "And that means I can't get my ice cream," she lamented, trying to squeeze out a tear or two.
The Creation's face softened, he reached out a hand and nervously patted her forearm, "No problem," he said reassuringly and leapt out the tank (taking half the liquid with him) and sprinted over to the freezer in the most athletic way Columbia had ever seen.
That's definitely not the Eddie part of him, she thought with a grin of the delivery boy's views on exercise.
You heard it here first! Frank keeps his rubbers in the fridge! What the hell goes through my mind at 3 am?
The theme tune to Steptoe and Son was lodged in my brain when writing this. Johnny Fontane is a fictional singer featured in The Godfather... I just thought it would be fun X3 Ya'll know how I love my references ;P
Gilda isn't actually too soppy, but it's very angsty which this hormonal Columbia would surely appreciate.
OK, you caught me. Deep Fried Chocolate Bubblegum Milkshake doesn't exist... only in my dreams...
