AN: Yay! More drabbles from the mind of a procastinator! I don't know how this happened, I have so much to do today and instead... well, enjoy...
EDIT: I have decided to make this into a story (yay!) about the Transylvanians adjusting to the pettyness of life. If you have already read this chapter as a oneshot, I haven't changed it at all, so feel free to skip joyfully ahead, or not, it's not like I've activated the transducer or anything...
Disclaimer: Do I own it? Yes and no... mostly no...
This couldn't get much more degrading.
Magenta dipped the brush into the tin of paint and slapped it against the wall.
It was bad enough that she had had to leave her beloved home planet to work for some sleazy Prince who hit on her every chance her got. It was worse that she had to wear sunglasses during daylight hours and get used to Earth's bizarre laws and cultures. It was unbearable that she and her brother had to hide their relationship from the public as incest was, ahem, frowned upon.
Now Frank was making her wear… this!
She glared down at the skimpy maid outfit and slapped the wall again. Although it was less revealing than her normal attire, the simple fact that Frank was forcing her to wear it made her two stomachs churn.
And, dip, she now had to call him, slap, Master!
The only thing he's master of is bation, she giggled and dipped the brush.
"Magenta?" she spun round to see her brother at the doorway with a jug of lemonade and a plate of freshly baked cookies.
"Hello Mrs Van de Kamp," she replied, Riff had managed to programme the monitors to pick up television signals, for research purposes.
He twitched his lip, "I saw a televisual programming feature called a "Sit. Com."," he shook his head, "It suggested lemon flavoured aid and baked cookie dough as a reward for hard work," he grinned and stood closer to her, so she could smell the cookies.
She picked one up warily and studied it. Raw cookie dough did taste nice…
She bit into it, "Mm! Delicious," her eyes rolled into her head a bit.
She heard him chuckle as she greedily wolfed it down and reached for another, "You should wash it down with some lemonade."
She grabbed the jug and took a swig.
"Uh, you were supposed to use a cup," he pulled a small plastic cup out of his pocket and offered it to her.
"I prefer to cut out the middle man," she said, trying to hide her embarrassment.
Riff Raff grinned and took a cookie, "How is the painting coming along?"
She made a face, "Slow and tedious."
"Would you like some help?" he removed his tattered jacked along with the pillow stuffed into the specially made pouch.
Magenta regretted fretting over her outfit, Frank had done everything he could to make Riff less attractive; a regularly shaved bald patch graced the crown of her brother's head, in retaliation, he had grown the remainder of his blonde hair, an act that backfired as Frank prohibited him from showering, causing it to become stringy and greasy. The aforementioned pillow gave Riff the hunchbacked appearance of the stereotypical butler as well as the worn tux that he had to wear every day, even as he slept. His beautiful voice had been worn by his screams as a whip lashed his back, until it had become a weary drawl.
She smiled gratefully at him as he picked up a brush and began splashing paint across the wall.
"Riff!" she protested as he clumsily splattered the paint everywhere, "You're getting paint all over me!"
He grinned and flicked the brush at her, covering her in pink, "Hey, you're magenta, Magenta!" he laughed.
"Ha ha," she stroked the brush across his face, giving him a bushy black moustache.
He narrowed his eyes and gave her a green monobrow. Soon an epic paint war had broken out between the siblings until they were dunking their hands in the cans and chucking paint at each other.
"Riff! Riff, stop!" Magenta cried. He ceased fire. They looked around.
"Oops," he smirked, "Guess we got carried away…"
Magenta raised an eyebrow, "Look at us!"
They were drenched in all the colours of the rainbow.
"We'll have to get out of these clothes," Magenta sighed, of course she'd be the one doing the washing!
"Indeed, we will…," Riff tailed off suggestively.
Magenta stared at him, confused. Everyone was much more forward on their planet, innuendo was rarely used.
Riff sighed and walked over to her, slowly unbuttoning her dress.
"Do you get it now?" he asked, as he began to kiss her.
She got it alright.
The next morning Magenta woke up in her own bed, trying to memorise every detail of the night before. It wasn't often that she woke up during the day, unlike Riff who had a castle to maintain. She grimaced and made a mental note to never complain again, no matter how hard she had it, Riff had it ten times harder.
She noticed that he had cleaned and folded her maid outfit for her and she smiled soppily as she put it on.
She headed downstairs to make him some, what were they called? Cookies! That was it!
As she entered the kitchen, she caught her reflection in one of the pans that hung overhead. She giggled.
She had red paint dabbed onto her cheeks, nose and around her lips, black exaggerated eyebrows and a twirly black moustache.
Riff must have got to her in her sleep. After her shower, she had just collapsed onto her bed, without bothering to dry her hair or anything, causing it to revert to its natural afro form. She grimaced, she looked exactly like a clown. A clown with a moustache.
She looked around for her brother and found him asleep in his tower room. She searched around until she found the face paint that he had probably used on her and got to work.
"Afternoon, brother," she nodded to him formally, keeping her back to him as she cleaned the apparatus most affected by her baking attempt.
"Sister," he responded, equally formal.
She hid a smirk as she heard him sit down at the table and flick through a newspaper.
She turned round and deposited her monster cookies and a glass of milk on the table, glad that his face was covered by the paper.
"Thank you," he said cordially and removed the paper from his face.
She couldn't help herself and began snorting with laughter as she saw his painted face.
"Meaw?" he asked curiously, his mouth stretching into a grin.
She stroked his head, "Good kitty, enjoy your milk."
He picked up the glass and began lapping the milk up with his pointy tongue, purring.
She laughed some more, he put down the glass and licked her face.
"Oh, Riff, you're messing up my make up!" she protested. He beamed at her, the clown face was still intact.
"You know, that's quite a good look on you," he said, stroking his painted on whiskers thoughtfully.
"Ditto," she said before hopping onto his lap and kissing him passionately, trying to ignore his joking purrs.
Frank finally emerged from his room at around midnight, in his dragon robe, with his hair in curlers, facemask on.
He sat down at the dining room table and took out his compact, to check his reflection whilst he waited for breakfast to come. He growled at his reflection and blew it a kiss, "Frankie, baby," he said, "If you look this irresistible just now, what are you like when you're trying?" he chuckled. After five minutes of flirting with himself he noticed that the kitchen was empty.
"Magenta? Riff Raff?" he waited a few more minutes before sighing dramatically and heaving himself up.
"Look what they've reduced me to," he muttered as he retrieved a box of cereal, "A prince shouldn't have to make his own breakfast!" he stared at the box. He'd seen Riff Raff and Magenta make it before but he's never really paid them any attention, unless one of them had to bend over dor some reason. He searched around until he found some milk and a bowl. Now, did the milk or the cereal go in first? He pondered this for a second before putting them in simultaneously.
"Frankie, you're an absolute genius!" he clapped his hands and put the bowl in the microwave and hit a random button.
Two boring seconds later and he decided to check out his newly painted yoga room.
Upstairs the siblings were busy performing the Transylvanian Universal Anthem; the Time Warp.
At the end they collapsed to the floor, as custom dictated they should, and sighed sadly. As much as they had enjoyed it, it just wasn't the same without a big crowd of Transylvanians and the music to back it up.
They turned their heads to look at each other.
"When shall we return?" Magenta asked worriedly.
"Once we have completed our mission here," Riff stroked her upset face, "Don't worry, my most beautiful sister, it won't take long."
"But what if he gets distracted?" she said, voicing their unspoken concern, "He loses interest too easily."
"I don't think he'll become uninterested in having his own planet, whole galaxies away from his jealous, overbearing mother," Riff comforted her.
She nodded sadly and stood up, "Can you show me how to make cookies now?" she said coyly and helped him up.
As they headed downstairs, a thought hit Magenta, "Did you remember to clean up that room we were painting?"
"Magenta! Riff Raff! What are these weird paint stains on the floor of my yoga room?"
AN: Inspired a bit by the Friends episode where Ross and Rachel are on the plane to Vegas and Ross draws on her face whilst she's asleep and then later on after a call to the pen company and a lot of drinks, he lets her draw on him, hehe. Also by a small scene in the book version of The Time Travellers wife when future Henry and present Claire act like cats...
Also, Bree Van de Kamp is this stereotypical queen of suburbia who wears arpons and makes lemonade on Desperate Housewifes, I realised after I'd wrote it that RHPS was filmed in the 70's and Desperate Housewifes is new etc. But, um, maybe Riff's fiddling with the monitors means they get programmes from the future... and Magenta's two stomachs are from Doctor Who as he has two hearts :P
I think that's it for the cultural referances... except I recently started yoga and I could imagine Frank doing it :D And the cereal in the microwave is from one of my favourite bits in the Simpsons when Homer is trying to make Mr. Burns breakfast and everything keeps catching on fire, even when he just pours milk into cereal... lulzz