A lock of her dangerously red hair fell into her face as Magenta scrubbed the castle floors clean for the last time. She looked up to watch Riff, his lovely angular face furrowed in a worried expression. He had been pacing just like that for days. Magenta looked at the clock and realized that she had been scrubbing the same spot for hours. She dropped the rag in the bucket and walked through the castle suddenly quiet without the sounds of Frank making love upstairs and the click clack sounds of tap shoes going across the floor in the ballroom. She lurked through the room that she and her squeaky counterpart had shared, suddenly not wanting to take down that giant poster of Eddie that she had always hated. He was so large and ungraceful; his bruised face marred the prettiness of their room. But now, Magenta was reminded of Columbia, her sweet funny earth friend Columbia. Though she was annoying at times, she was so much fun. Columbia was her best friend, her first friend really. Riff was her lover, her brother, but never her friend. Magenta could never have such lighthearted fun with her darling Riff. He was beautiful and silent and perfect yes, but he was always so serious. Paranoid too, lately. It must have been from going off the junk. Which brought her back to Eddie; he had been useful for a few things. He distracted Frank and was a devoted "candy man" for Riff. Never was her brother happier, than under the influence of Eddie's magical potion, which Riff shot up into his perfect skin. He still had scars from the needles, "tracks" as they are called on the strange planet that Magenta and Riff said goodbye to a few days ago.

They had been so happy after they rid themselves of that egotistic sexoholic Frank. They spoke of their darling moon drenched shores of Transsexual. But would they ever see those shores again. The Old Queen would find out, of course she would; mothers have a certain intuition. And Magenta and Riff would be parted forever. They killed the prince, the Old Queen's flesh and blood. They would have to come up with a plan. Magenta leaned her head on the window of her bedroom and thought as hard as she could, soon giving up. She watched the burning white of the stars race by as well as the reflection of a tear going down her strange pale face.