Disclaimer: I don't own Rocky Horror. Even after all these years of writing fabulous fanfic.
A/N: I don't know why they're reading This Side of Paradise. Well, actually, I do. It's my favorite F. Scott Fitzgerald book and it's in the public domain, which means I can't be sued for quoting. Hoopla.
(Denton High school. The English classroom. There're only a few students. After all, it's a pretty small town.)
(The teacher - a youngish woman named Ms. Jenna Sayre, who dresses like a beatnik - stands at the front of the classroom reading F. Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise out loud.)
Sayre: But Beatrice Blaine! There was a woman! Early pictures taken on her father's estate at Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, or in Rome at the Sacred Heart Convent—an educational extravagance that in her youth was only for the daughters of the exceptionally wealthy—showed the exquisite delicacy of her features, the consummate art and simplicity of her clothes. A brilliant education she had—her youth passed in renaissance glory, she was versed in the latest gossip of the Older Roman Families;
(Enter Columbia.)
Sayre: Hello! You're our new student, yes? Laura?
Columbia: Yep.
Sayre: Welcome! My name is Ms. Sayre and I teach English here at Denton High School. Why don't you take a seat?
(Columbia does so, awkwardly)
Sayre: Right now we're reading This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Do you know it?
Columbia: Uh, no. I don't think so.
Sayre: Oh. Well, you will soon. (Beat) Where was I?
Student 1/Stella: "known by name as a fabulously wealthy American girl"
Sayre: Thank you. Known by name as a fabulously wealthy American girl to Cardinal Vitori and Queen Margherita and more subtle celebrities that one must have had some culture even to have heard of. She learned in England to prefer whiskey and soda to wine, and her small talk was broadened in two senses during a winter in Vienna. All in all Beatrice O'Hara absorbed the sort of education that will be quite impossible ever again...
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