The beginnings kind of shaky, because I took the band-aid approach and just wanted to get the sucker done with quickly and painfully, so tread carefully.

"Ok, Frank, remember what we discussed…" Magenta hissed as she shepherded him down the stairs towards Riff (who was obliviously re-reading One Day).

Frank nodded glumly and muttered, "Honesty is the best policy. You can't base a relationship on lies. Deception is the Devil's bitch. Yeah, I know," he took a deep breath and earned a sympathetic pat on the back from Magenta (who was attempting to hide a wicked grin behind a sympathetic simper).

"You can do it," she whispered reassuringly before launching him through the living room door, closing it and crouching down to listen through the keyhole. He's actually doing it! Muahahaha! Riff'll dump him like last year's fishnets!

"Frank?" screamed Riff's panicked voice and their was a thudding sound followed by a sliding noise like something had been dropped and kicked across the room, out of sight.

"Riff… I have to tell you something…" dithered the reluctant Frank.

"Of course," there was a brushing noise as Riff scooched up to make some room on the couch for Frank, and a heavy whumph as he plopped down.

"You know how… I've, er, always had some, ah, eating problems…"

"Yes?" Riff's unusually sharp reply made Magenta wince a tad before smiling wider. Yes, indeed…

"And remember how I said I'd gotten over them…?"

"Yes."

"Well…," she heard Frank fidget uncomfortably and could clearly picture Riff's death-glare, "…I haven't…"

Then came silence.

"Then what happened?" Carry Ingstuff looked up from her DIY, Darning and Dusting textbook and peered through milk-bottle glasses at the stony expression of Magenta.

"He forgave him," she muttered darkly, scowling.

Carry bit her lip and silently waited for Magenta to elaborate.

"There was a lot of screaming first, they had a big blazing argument – both hurling insults at each other – I was sure that one would kill the other, and then they started crying and hugging and apologising. Then they started laughing and smooching and crooning at each other and I had to go throw up."

Magenta's voice had gradually becoming more and more bitter as she recalled the horrific scene where, instead of throwing Frank out on his bony backside and realising his undying love for her, Riff had crumbled and forgiven Frank as easily as though he'd nothing more than trod on his foot.

"Aw, I'm sorry Mags, I know how much you love your brother-" No you don't. "- and how hard it must be to have him "abandon" you for a new boyfriend, it was like that when my brother Dropp got married, remember? I didn't see him for weeks – it was horrible!" she shuddered, "But you have to get over it, it's just some stupid teen romance, it won't last forever, don't worry. Now, back to the lesson," she grinned evilly and chucked the textbook at Magenta, "Start reading page twenty five whilst I go get a more fire-retardant material for you to practise on."

"Come in!" Queen Libby Doe sang as she quickly disabled all the Anti-Whore alarm systems she'd set up around the royal bedchamber, "Just put your eye to the retina scanner, and I'll be with you momentarily!" she called into the microphone before scurrying towards the door.

One by one, in tromped – what Captain Obvious so lovingly called – her side of the family;

LaRoy Kreb's somach peeked in a few seconds ahead of the rest of him, emitting disturbing gurgling noises as the blotched flesh strained against the buckled leather cat suit he was wearing. One pudgy, ring-encrusted hand was petting a bloodshot eye morosely and Libby Doe smirked, she had taken him off the Not-A-Threat database a month ago, and he was yet to realise, blaming the sudden spurt of pepper-spray every time he tried to visit his sister-in-law on shoddy technology.

Next came Sir Loin, looking as baffled as ever and wearing a lovely ensemble consisting of a flower-pot as a shoe, bacon as a bow-tie and a thermos as a cod-piece.

A loud complaining voice ridiculing the expensive wallpaper seeped in through the door as Sir Loin blinked dazedly around the room as if he had recently recovered from a rather nasty bout of amnesia. The voice was nasal and soaked in sarcasm and could only belong to Count DaMoney, a man so tight-fisted and stingy, that there were rumours that he had chosen to let his whole family starve to death rather than spring for three meals a day.

The snooty count was suddenly shunted out of the way as a tiny little wisp of a man hurtled into the room and jumped into Libby's closet, squeaking shrilly and screaming "Close the door! Close the door, you fools! Don't let them in! I beg of you!" It was Duke It Out, eccentric gajillonaire and paranoid wreck.

Finally, the fifth and final royal – Earl Grey - strolled in, nodded politely at Libby before slowly closing the door with a soft clunk, prompting the duke to roll out of the closet and begin searching the room for bugs, cameras and whatever else his skittish mind believed was hidden in the skirting board, waiting to hand him over to them.

"Ah, sister dear," LaRoy said slickly, outstretching his arms and bowing lowly.

"You stopped being my brother the moment Dill died!" snapped Libby suddenly. The loss of her sister Dill Doe still weighed heavily on her heart, and the fact that her good-for-nothing scrounger of a brother-in-law was still hanging around was not helping to lift it.

LaRoy gulped and dropped his arms hastily, glancing at the rest of the royals in a let's see you try kind of way.

They exchanged unwilling glances for a while before Earl Grey sighed and let his face fall from it's welcoming smile into a worn frown.

"DeRanged and DeLirious are dead," he said quickly, not looking at Libby.

She gasped and clutched her chest, "No… not them…" she muttered, collapsing onto her bed and shaking her head briskly, "They can't be!"

"They are," muttered DaMoney as the royals lowered their heads respectfully, even the duke stopped his inspection of the doilies to grieve.

"Makes the whole thing much more real, eh?" LaRoy broke the silence to grin grimly, "If they managed to get Der and Del, anyone of us could be next!"

"Typical of you, LaRoy," said Libby waspishly, "You don't care about their deaths! Your only concern is that they obviously aren't scared to spill Furter blood!"

"Now, Priscilla," cut in Sir Loin dozily, apparently losing interest in staring at a coffee stain, "I'm sure Colonel Cruelty would be happy to share his inflatable toast with you, but you'll have to ask much nicer than that," he said in a fatherly voice. No one paid him any attention except for the earl who patted his arm reassuringly as Libby and LaRoy glared at each other.

"The funeral," continued the earl, looking sternly between the two of them, "Will be held in a month's time –"

"Think of the expense…," muttered the sour looking DaMoney, "Maybe I could cut costs by wearing one of Der's old slips… he did promise one to me ten Christmases ago when I gave him that staple…"

"And you, DaMoney!" burst Libby, eager to vent her anger, "You're only showing up for the reading of the will, I bet!"

"And for the free food!" he spat back, "You're awful preachy today, Doe-y, hm? Considering your little performance with Der the day before his wedding…"

"How dare you!" she cried, rearing back a hand to slap him, "I bet it was you who started those rumours!"

"Like you never started any in your time!" he frothed, looking quite mad, "What's all that tosh about letting my family starve to death rather than feed them?"

"Please! Please!" screamed the duke, "They'll hear the yelling!"

"Now, come on, this is hardly appropriate, I know you're all very upset by the news, but this is no way to act!"

"If anyone gets a slip, it should be me!" cried LaRoy, elbowing the earl in the face as he waddled between the spitting queen and count, "I was the one who took care of his wife while he was at war!"

"Oh, I'll bet you took care of her!" DaMoney rounder on LaRoy, "Just like you took care of Out's wife!"

"Rumours! Rumours!" squeaked the duke, hurling a doily into the fray, "Hateful rumours spread by them to set us against each other!"

"Well, they're doing a bloody good job, I'll tell you that!" shouted Libby, tears abseiling down her flushed face as she got DaMoney into a headlock whilst trying to wrench her hair out of LaRoy's sweaty grip.

"Please! Please!" the earl cried desperately, tearing his hair out in frustration, "This is unseemly –"

A loud bang reverberated throughout the room and everyone froze to gawp at the unusually lucid Sir Loin, who glared around sternly, the laser-equivalent of a musket in his steady hand.

"Early Grey, if you please," he gestured humbly at the earl who nearly wept with gratitude and cleared his throat as the rest of the royals disengaged themselves and nursed their petty wounds.

"Now," he continued as though nothing had happened, "There is still the matter of DeLordy; the only child of DeRanged and DeLirious."

"Ah yes," muttered LaRoy thoughtfully, massaging his non-pepper-sprayed eye, which had been poked by the duke's doily, "What will become of the little tyke?"

"Well, Der and Del clearly stated that, if the worst should happen, that he be raised by family…" he let the sentence die and be absorbed by the dumb-struck royals.

"You mean?" demanded DaMoney, "That one us is getting lumbered with the bratling? Some of us are on a budget, you know!"

"Really? You never said," murmured Libby angrily, ready for round two.

"Has he been interrogated yet?" asked the duke timidly, "In case he's actually one of them?"

"All necessary precautions and safety measures have been taken," the earl reassured the duke, who exhaled loudly although looked a smidge unconvinced.

"I'll take the poor thing," volunteered Sir Loin, addressing and saluting a lampshade, "It's such a shame when owner's die. The poor goldfish are usually left to wander the streets, all homeless and alone…," he said sadly before bursting into tears and sobbing loudly.

"Well, that leaves me and you, Libbs," said the earl kindly, smiling warmly at her as if to say it's your choice

"I'll take him," she said at once, all anger evaporating, "I owe it to Der and Del," plus, I've always wanted a child…

I had fun writing for the royals - they're all so soap-opera-y ;D

Their personalities are a bit of a random mish-mash of various characters from films or books or Tv shows I've been watching/reading lately , here are the basic inspirations:

Sir Loin = Major Gowan in Fawlty Towers and Grandad from Only Fools and Horses as well as Abe in The Simpsons. LaRoy = Max in The Producers. Earl Grey = Brian in Avenue Q, Leo from The Producers and Remus Lupin from Harry Potter, Duke It Out on Flitwick (also from Harry Potter) as well as Mad-Eye. Libby Doe = Sarah in Labyrinth (for the overreacting and melodramatics) and Edna from The Incredibles (for the security) and Count DaMoney = Ross from Friends, weirdly, and Kreacher, from HP again! Damn DH Part 2!