Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show. If only...

To the last chapter's reviewer: I'm sorry to say that Frank won't show up again for a while. But he will become important again by the story's climax.

By the way, I'm glad people don't think this is too weird!

A/N: I hope that the 'crazy granny who swears a lot' doesn't bother people.

Also, the main reason it says that they "almost run over a random dude (who looked way too much like Frank) outside a cinema on E Street" is that my 'local' theater that shows The Rocky Horror Picture Show happens to be the E Street Cinema in Washington, DC. And I do know that it didn't start showing Rocky Horror there until the mid-2000s.

Saturday, April/6/1974

Dear Diary,

At the time of this writing, it's nearly 9 at night. That's not very late, I suppose. At least not too much weirdness happened today (going by our now normal standards). I'll start writing about thing that happened around 4 o'clock this afternoon...

When we got to Washington, DC it was still perfectly light outside. I haven't been there in ages, but we didn't have time to sightsee. The last city I'd been in was New York.

Before Mr. Bradshaw realized that my Granny didn't live in the city itself, we managed to: mistake a Mormon temple for the Emerald City from afar, get stuck in a few truly evil traffic circles, and almost run over a random dude (who looked way too much like Frank) outside a cinema on E Street.

Once we'd figured out that we were in the wrong place, we quickly drove to a county Mclean. That's where my Granny really lives.

I led Mr. Bradshaw to her house street-by-street. It didn't take too long, though Winslow/Martin constantly complained. That annoyed everyone.

Anyway, we soon found our way to Granny's house.

"I'll go to the door. She is my Granny," I told them, as we parked down the street from her house.

Eddie rolled his eyes at the look of determination on my face. Winslow/Martin, on the other hand, just scowled. Wasn't he a grumpy little bastard!

"Fine," said Mr. Bradshaw, in a petty tone that bordered on childish.

And so, I got out of the car. With increasing excitement I walked toward the familiar one-story brick house. God, I hadn't seen Granny in ages! My parents blamed her for my sister Agnes' so-called 'plight'. It's probably because of her youthful years of jazz clubs, dancing, and bathtub gin (oh my!).

Grinning a bit madly, I ran up to the door and knocked on it with ridiculous enthusiasm.

Through it I heard a familiar voice shout: "If it's one o' ya damned kids again, I'm calling the police!"

Yeah, that's my Granny!

And then she opened the door. Though she wore a flowery, frumpy, old lady dress; around her thin neck she'd draped a sequin-covered scarf. And her shoes had rhinestones glued to them.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's me… Laurie," I explained with a sad smile. "I've dyed my hair and everything since you last saw me."

Suddenly, her eyes lit up with joyful recognition. "Oh, I shoulda known! A couple a' years ago your our ma told me you'd run off. Stupid bitch thought you'd died… or maybe wished you'd died. Whatever! I'm glad to see ya, honey!"

To my horror, I began to cry as she hugged me.

"Aw, don't cry… come on inside! I'll get ya a spot o' tea and we can catch up!" Granny said with a kindly smile.

I nearly forgot the reason I was there as I followed her into the kitchen. It looked just like it always did. From the Christmas-Card Bulletin Board to the strange classical-style sculpture of a topless goddess… I knew the place by heart!

"Why are ya here, kiddo?" Granny asked, as she put a kettle on to boil.

"Its a very long, very hard to believe story," I replied. "But, most importantly, we're kinda on the run from police, aliens, and at least one other group. We need a place to stay for a while. You're trustable and probably have enough room. I think we can later-"

"'We'?"

"Well… three friends and I. The others are in a van down the street," I explained nervously.

Granny stared thoughtfully at me for a while, then said: "Hmm!"

"Will please you help?" I asked her. To my annoyance, my tone of voice made me sound like I was begging.

Still, Granny had that contemplated look on her face. "Maybe… I'd first like ta meet these kids!"

"Okay."

And so, I led her to the van. My heart pounded with strange fearfulness. Why should I freak out? Granny is so open-minded that it's scary. She'd probably even get along with Frank!

When we got there, Winslow/Martin looked even more infuriated than before. Even Eddie and Mr. Bradshaw seemed a bit annoyed. I wasn't gone that long… was I?

Mr. Bradshaw smiled when he saw us. "Hello! My name is Christopher Bradshaw. This is my son Edd- er, Lucas. And my, um, other son… Martin!"

At this, I rolled my eyes. "We can use our real names with her. She's my perfectly trustable grandmother, okay? So… Granny, meet Eddie Scott- my boyfriend- and Winslow. Everyone else, this is my Granny, Millie Dennis."

"Call me Gran, dears. If ya piss me off, however, I might make you call me 'Mrs. Dennis'. Okay?"

Everyone seemed too shocked by her foul language to reply.

"Is she always like that?" Eddie whispered to me.

"Yeah," I replied.

We stood there in an awfully awkward silence for a moment. Granny was the first to speak, of course.

"Oh shit! I left the stove on!" she shrieked.

Then, she ran back to the house. A moment later we followed her. Winslow/Martin didn't seem so grumpy now. I suppose that he was too busy being surprised by Granny's craziness to be in a bad mood. Thank God for that!

When we got to the kitchen, we were all glad to see that she hadn't burned the kitchen down or anything. Nothing was even slightly out of place. Anyway, the tea was ready!

We drank the tea (Earl Grey), and chatted aimlessly. Everyone- including Mr. Bradshaw- seemed to think that my Granny was pretty cool. She's really not anything like 'old people' often are!

After a lot of pointless chatter, we finally began to talk about important stuff. By then it was six or so in the evening.

"So, you kids wanna stay here for a while?" Granny asked.

"Yeah… we need a place to crash for some time," Eddie confirmed.

"Hmm. Well, sonny, I've got two guest rooms and a living room couch. If Laurie and you sleep in one bedroom, with Bradshaw in the other… and Window sleepin' on the couch… you'll all fit!"

"It's 'Winslow', not 'Window'," the poor guy muttered bitterly.

We all ignored him.

"Wait…" Eddie said, after a moment. "Why are ya lettin' my girl and I sleep in the same room?"

"Isn't it obvious, sonny? I want you kids to be able to get laid before you fight those alien bastards and shit," Granny replied cheerfully.

"Wow," Eddie muttered, his eyes wide.

I have a feeling that no adult he'd ever met had approved of sex outside of marriage- let alone encouraged it so nonchalantly! That (and the excessive swearing) seemed to creep out everyone in the room. Well, almost everyone. I'm a bit more used to Granny's 'anything goes' approach to the universe.

So, with all that figured out, we began to unpack. That basically meant 'put all the stolen clothes in our new rooms'. Though nobody said anything, I'm pretty sure Granny knew we'd stolen the clothes. Since she liked being a rebel (even at age 76), it didn't upset her at all. If I had kids I'd keep them away from her until they were old enough to know when not to listen to her.

Yeah, I see why my parents didn't like her near my sisters and me.

Anyway, it was about 7 o'clock when we finished. So, Granny heated up some canned soup (since she never learned to cook) and we ate that. She also got out a bottle of beer for each of us. Because all of us are old enough to drink, Mr. Bradshaw technically couldn't stop any of us from drinking. And he didn't have the energy to argue.

Since I'm pretty used to alcohol, I didn't end up intoxicated. Similarly, Winslow/Martin only became slightly tipsy. But poor Eddie really got drunk…

I sent him to our bedroom a soon as he tried to sing a song about how he "really loves that rock n' roll". If he'd stayed in the dining room he probably would've done something silly that would've given Granny a story to tell her usual drinking buddies at the local bar.

At just about 7:50 I went to my 'new' bedroom. To my amusement, Eddie had already fallen asleep by then. He looks cute like that. Or at least a bit younger.

That didn't matter. What mattered was that I changed into pajamas and went to sleep. So I dug furiously through the mess of clothes I'd thrown on the floor. After a while I gave up.

A dressing gown and shirt a few sizes to big over my underclothes would be fine, I decided. I'd already found those items of clothing. So, I quickly got dressed. Just as I was about to get in bed I heard Eddie humming that song he's drunkenly sung earlier.

It turned out I'd made too much noise when going through the closet.

"How long have you been awake?" I asked.

"Long ennough ta see ya getting' dres'd," he replied, slurring his words slightly.

I realized that he was still a bit drunk. Soon enough he'd do something stupid and I'd go along with it because I'm madly in love with him.

"Eddie, darling. Go back to sleep!" I grumbled.

Then, I climbed into bed right next to him. Sometimes I can't help but do that sort of thing.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I knnoww."

At that, I rolled my eyes. On a few previous occasions he'd said he loved me. Well, mostly in the middle of the night while at least half asleep. So I didn't doubt that it was perfectly true.

So, I kissed him innocently on the lips and tried to fall asleep.

That didn't work, because he then kissed me. Oh dear. Though it was one of his adorably awful kisses I couldn't help but kiss him back. Then his hand ended up down my bra… and so on.

Afterwards we lay there with our arms around each other. We'd really had a good time, as the strange lyrics he'd sung earlier said.

"Your Granny was righ'," he muttered, clearly less drunk. "That was a good idea."

That's the most awkward thing I've ever heard anyone say, I think.

Now he wants me to turn of the flashlight, stop writing, and go to sleep. I might as well.

- Columbia (a groupie)

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