A cold room in the lower levels of the castle. The stone clad walls loom to a vaulted ceiling, illuminated only by flickering candlelight from the web-cloaked candelabra. Two dark figures move silently, one male, one female. Behind them, a rack of wickedly sharp knives and other steel implements adorns the rough-cut granite. One is missing.
It gleams bright as a sliver of the sunlight this room has never seen in the hand of the dark man. His other restrains the wrist of the woman as the knife cuts deep into plump, rosy skin. She cries out,
"Damnit Riff! I vanted the last apple."
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters,songs, plot twists, quotes, actors, actresses, cameramen, directors, producers, make up artists, wardrobe mistresses, in fact, anything to do with rocky horror other than excessive amounts of merchandise.
Reviews give me a nasty rash of plot bunnies.