Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I wasn't a bald cult king with epic cowboy boots and the ownership rights to RHPS. *checks again* Nup. Sorry. Also don't own the title. Or the laptop I'm typing this on.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't stop posting crappy short Rocky fics! Ah well, my muse vomitted this up for me this morning and it's raining outside so... enjoy.
"Dad! Come on! They'll be sold out in a minute!"
"Yeah, dad! Shift it!"
Riff Raff smiled endearingly at his two young children and allowed them to drag him towards the ticket booth until his long nose was almost pressed up against the laser-proof glass.
"Yes sir?" enquired the twitchy teen nervously as he realised just who that was standing before him, his breath fogging up the glass a little as two little tykes vibrated with excitement. The teen's anxiety was unfounded, of course, for the fabled Flaming Furter was currently on display in a heavily guarded, locked seduction-proof cabinet inside this very museum. Then again, if the rumours were true... The rumours that the Flaming Furter on display was a phoney. A decoy. A clever ploy to con the Royals into a false sense of security with the knowledge that the only device able to kill them (a device capable of emitting a beam of pure anti-matter – a device that would slice through this flimsy plastic cage in front of him like a sword through flesh) was safely tucked away in their latest extravagant waste of hardworking peasant's money. Ah, yes. That rumour. Riff Raff smiled sinisterly at the cowering nonentity before him. If the rumour were true – which Riff Raff wasn't suggesting it was – then that would mean that Riff Raff wasn't reaching for his wallet. Oh no. For concealed within his breast pocket was the real laser. The one that he had purposely obstructed from the Old Queen's attendants when he returned from Earth sans the prodigal son. The one with which he intended to slay the rest of those greasy pigs, to put an end to their oily ecstasy, to scrub the planet clean of their diseased lives.
Of course, rumours are never to be trusted.
Riff Raff plucked two shiny purple coins from his wallet and slid them over to the relieved teen in return for four tickets to The Fabulous Friends of Franklin N "Frankie-Poo" Furter Present The Natural His Story Museum.
"C'mon!" Name Tag, his youngest child and only daughter tugged on his leather thong agitatedly, "Hurry up! We'll miss the one o'clock runway show!" she whinged.
Trash, the eldest and only son, made a small 'pfft' noise and scoffed, "The runway's for girls!" he readjusted his thigh-high pink leather boots before continuing, "I want to see the Flaming Furter!" his angelic blue eyes took on a more demonic glint as a covetous grin spread across his pale face, "Just imagine… all that power… all that… possibility…" he trailed off dreamily.
"Daaaaad! Trash is scaring me!" Name Tag's lip wobbled as she clung to her father's fishnet encased leg in fear.
Riff Raff smiled and ruffled Trash's hair playfully, "Your mother used to always say the exact same thing whenever I thought of the Transit Beam…," he sighed happily, a nostalgic smile tugging on his lips, "Speaking of which, where is she? She must have powdered her nose until it's an extra inch thicker by now!"
"Sorry, sorry!" a delightfully familiar voice called out from behind the group, "So sorry!" she added as she caught up with her impatient family, "They have those new signs over the toilets – took me ages to figure out which one was which!" she panted a little, having ran from the opposite side of the building, "I keep forgetting that I'm no longer a domestic," she smiled bashfully, "Couldn't remember the symbol for 'Wife of Decorated Military General' kept on getting it mixed up with 'Wife of Inebriated Suitcase Salesman'," she tucked an escaped strand of red frizz behind her ear and readjusted her slip, "That's one thing those Earthling's got right: just two signs for the lav's, just plain old Men or Women without all this complicated caste-type ranking piffle!" she griped as her kids rolled their eyes and sped ahead towards the entrance. They hated it when their mother went on about her Earth days.
"Nostalgic, my dear?" Riff Raff linked arms with his sister/wife and followed the impatient scamps at a much more leisurely pace.
His beloved sibling sighed heavily and leaned her head on his awaiting shoulder, "More than you'll ever know," she whispered, "And I doubt this museum will help – it will be like watching a movie based on the events that went on that fateful night! Or worse, a musical!" she added, glancing at a sign informing them of the time of the Chantilly Stockings live performance of 'Sweet Transvestite' complete with several Frank doppelgangers.
"It's alright, my sweet," Riff Raff purred in a serene voice, "Don't fret your pretty head about it. If you cry, I shall calmly explain that seeing the displays brought back painful memories of Frank's unfortunate demise and that it simply got too much for you. If you laugh, I shall calmly explain that you have just remembered a particularly hilarious anecdote about the young prince and proceed to tell them one of my many fabricated stories of light-hearted jovially, in which Frank is a kind, good humoured little imp and we are his loyal but dim-witted partners in crime. And, of course, if you faint, then I shall calmly blame it on your passenger," he stroked her swollen belly tenderly, "And call for a doctor immediately."
Magenta chuckled and swatted him playfully, "And what if you are the one to faint, dear brother? What then?"
Riff Raff shrugged, "Tell them that the rumours are true, I've just shot myself with the real Flaming Furter, I did kill Frank and that after seeing the totally necessary and modestly tasteful exhibit dedicated to Frank's toenail clippings, I became unable to live with the knowledge that I'd robbed Transsexual of it's most prominently promiscuous prince and decided to end it all." He said calmly, winking at Magenta.
"You really think you're funny, don't you?" she smirked and gently bumped him with her bump.
"Oh, I'm deadly serious," Riff Raff said darkly, pulling a face to show he was just teasing.
Magenta shook her head in defeat, "I never can tell with you Riff Raff Vitus." She muttered as they strolled along the plum carpet towards their fidgeting offspring who were taking turns at peeking through the keyhole into the museum.
"Funny seeing them behave this way over a museum," Magenta remarked as Riff Raff produced their tickets.
"It is so not your average museum," Trash explained with the condescending-ness and snark only a ten-year-old could pull off, "It's like the place to be," he added, applying more Sugar Babe lip-gloss until Magenta could see her reflection in his sparkly lips.
"I just wanna see Prince Frank's clothes!" burst out Name Tag suddenly as she impatiently watched Riff Raff insert each ticket through the letterbox and type something into the doorknob-keypad.
Magenta softened and heaved her daughter up and cuddled her to her chest, "Don't worry, precious, they're actually rather tacky and sluttish."
"Like Trash?" Name Tag asked curiously.
"Hey! You did not just say that!" Trash fumed, whipping out a communicator and furiously performing the Transylvanian equivalent of texting.
"Ok, here we go," Riff Raff prodded the final key with a flourish and slowly turned the doorknob, grinning at the tortured expressions on his children's faces as he decreased his speed.
"Daaaaaaaad!"
"Ok, ok," he said, yanking the door open at lightening speed.
"Wooooooooooaahhhhhhh!" the children breathed, totally awestruck. Riff Raff felt Magenta wobble a bit and clutch at his arm tightly as Name Tag slid to the ground and stood next to her entranced brother.
"Riff!" Magenta whispered the panic-filled word straight into his ear, "It's… it's…"
"It's exactly as you described it!" Trash whooped, the spell broken, he grabbed the red velvet barrier, making the Please Patiently Wait Here for a Moment or Two sign wobble precariously.
"That is because," Riff Raff tried to keep his voice steady, "This is the very building in which we travelled to Earth and served the late prince. I can't believe I didn't realise sooner," he added in a furious whisper, "Those cheap bastards, couldn't spring for a replica, oh no, of course not, they just use the real thing!" he hissed hurriedly to Magenta as they watched another family prod the cobweb encrusted skeleton that hung around inside the coffin/clock.
"Riff!" Magenta dug her nails deeper into his arm, "Look!" she pointed to a dark mass on the staircase banister.
As the family in front of them inspected it, the bundle suddenly jolted upwards – revealing itself to be an actress wearing a curly red wig, a French maid outfit and ruby red lipstick.
"You're lucky. He's lucky. I'm lucky. WE'RE ALL LUCKY!" she cried, sliding down the banister and tossing a feather duster at an other actor, who was dressed as a younger, hunchbacked Riff Raff – complete with tight butler uniform and fake hump.
"It's astounding, time is fleeting, madness takes its toll..."
"Good Lord," Riff Raff muttered and face palmed as he watched the cheesy re-enactment.
Luckily the torture ended soon as the jiving family were led into the packed ballroom and the doors were slammed shut, forcing the hallway into an uncomfortable silence.
"Wow, that was –" Trash was unexpectedly cut off by a sullen Riff Raff double who popped up from behind them.
"Hello," he greeted nasally before his hooded eyes took in his latest customers.
"Oh-oh-oh oh my!" his eyes bulged as he took a step backwards, "You're them!" he cried, startling another Magenta-look-alike who had taken her place on the banister – waiting for them to inspect her.
Riff Raff rolled his eyes, "Actually I believe your next line is 'You're wet'," he said in an exaggerated parody of his own voice.
The actor spluttered for a second before adjust his god-awful bald-cap and continuing, "Err, yes, ahem," he cleared his throat and tried to copy Riff's spoof, "You're wet," he drawled, producing a water pistol and spritzing them with it.
"Hey!" Trash steamed, "You wrecked my make-up you big lug!" quick as a flash he had his compact out and began smothering powder all over his face whilst simultaneously shooting death-glares at the stumped actor.
"Ah, well, sorry about that, miss," he stammered.
"Miss?" shrieked Trash, outraged – luckily the actor was spared as a loud shriek was heard from the Magenta wannabe.
"Get away, you little brat!" she snapped at Name Tag who had slipped under the red rope and toddled over to the banister.
"Well excuse me," she sniffed huffily, "It's just that, considering your position on the banister, I thought you might like to feel less… vulnerable."
"What did you do?" Magenta whispered as she hurried over to scoop her daughter away from the glaring mimic.
Name Tag shrugged, "I just offered her my spare pair of knickers," she dropped her voice and leaned closer, "She's not wearing any!"
"Please, madam, I'm going have to ask you not to wander off!" fake-Riff eyed her bump warily and fluttered his hands around nervously muttering something about insurance paperwork and a new carpet.
"Wander off?" Trash commented to Riff Raff, "She only took two bloody steps!"
I wanted to claw my way into the computer whilst writing this. Anyway, writing the last chapter for Midnight Snack just now - then I'll get to work on Grow Old. See what happens when my plans for the day are ruined? Enjoy this while it lasts.
