For those who may be wondering what our three madcap adventurers have been up
to lately, let's look in on them and find out.

It is a bright sunny afternoon in West L.A., but Dix and Tim seem to be
spending it indoors in the cool dimness of Tim's library...

Dix:...I never thought it would be so *hard*...

Tim: It's just a matter of skill and coordination.

Dix: Mmm, a little more to the left.  No,--*my* left.  That's it, right there.

Tim:  Well, if you'd stop moving around so much...

Dix: I'm doing the best I can -- it's so big and slippery!

Tim [triumphantly:] Aaaaahhhh!

Dix: Yesyesyes...

SFX:  SPLASH!!

Tim: Oops.

Dix: Oh, damn.

Rowan [entering from the kitchen, one hand behind his back:]  Haven't you two
got that dead fish out of Tim's aquarium yet?  You've been working on it for
half an hour.

Dix:  It would be easier if we had a landing net instead of a pair of tongs
and a sieve-- that koi is a foot long.

Tim:  If Dix hadn't flinched when I almost had it over the top --

Dix:  Well, it touched me.  And it's slimy.

Rowan: Step aside and let an expert take over.

He brings his hand into view; it is holding a large plastic perforated bowl.
With a  quick dip, he scoops the fish out of the tank.

Tim:  My best colander!

Dix: You can throw it in the dishwasher.  We won't tell. Nice job, Ro.

Rowan: Now where would you like the late Mr. Slimy?

Tim:  I suppose we'll have to bury him in the garden with the others.

Dix:  This happens a lot then?

Tim: About once a year.  I usually dig the graves after dark so my neigbors
won't get the wrong idea.

Dix goes to the kitchen and brings back an industrial-strength leaf and garden
bag. Rowan deftly wraps the defunct fish and places it in Tim's fridge.

Rowan:  I suggest that we eat out this evening.





   *         *         *

After a change of clothing for Tim and Dix, our trio wends its way to Ah Toy's
Mean Cuisine off Franklin Avenue for dinner.  As they are strolling back to
the car, Dix notices a bookstore across the street.

Dix:  Let's check it out, fellas.

They cross the street and examine the books on display in the dingy window of
the store, which has the name "Crime on Our Hands" over the door.

Dix:  Ah, good -- they have vintage paperbacks.

Rowan [reading titles:] 'Murder in the House With the Blue Eyes,' 'Kiss the
Blood off My Hands,' 'Mother Finds a Body...'  Sounds educational.

Tim:...'The Bride Wore Black,' 'The Sunday Pigeon Murders,' 'The Girl With the
Hungry Eyes,' 'I Wake Up Screaming'...those last two remind me of the last
time we were cornered by the Timbo conventioneers...

Dix: ...'Say It With Bullets,' 'Having Wonderful Crime,' 'My Kingdom For a
Hearse'...
oooo, lovely.

Rowan: Stop drooling on the window and let's go inside.

Tim: I've never seen books quite like these -- they have a certain raffish
charm all their own.

Dix [entering the store:] I have about 500 of them...I've been collecting them
for years.

The interior of the store is crammed from floor to ceiling with bookshelves
and tables displaying still more books.

A wizened elderly man approaches them and peers at them through his wire-
rimmed glasses, smiling.

Man: Can I help you folks find anything?

Dix [asking the question she always asks on entering a used-bookstore:] Do you
have any Dornford Yates books?

Man [giving the same answer she always receives:] Who?

Dix [sighing:]  Never mind.

Rowan:  Are you still trying to locate the rest of his titles?  I thought that
you had them all by now.

Dix: I have 21...and there are still a dozen more out there.  Somewhere.

Tim: Next time I go back to England, I'll see what I can find for you.  Give
me a list of the titles you still need.

At the rear of the store is a cobwebby alcove, nearly invisible behind the
leaning shelves.  From this recess suddenly comes a sinister laugh, very much
like that of the Wicked Witch of The West, or Jamie Tarsus cancelling Over the
Top. Our friends swing around toward the source just as the lights go off and
someone screams shrilly...there is a gurgling, choking sound and three shots
ring out...

               *                 *                *


Our bemused friends, while minding their own business (as two superstars and
their affectionate associate) were suddenly violently set upon in an innocent-
appearing secondhand book store.  After the lights went out there was a brief
struggle and Tim, Dix and Rowan were rendered unconscious.

We find them, battered, groggy and wondering whom to sue, in a stone cellar.

Dix: Ooh...did anyone get the number of that truck that ran over me?

Tim: Afraid not,--and I think it was a bus.

Rowan: I heard the driver laughing fiendishly, but that's all I remember.

The only light in their prison comes from a tiny street-level window, filtered
through a coating of grime and cobwebs.  Our adventurers are lying on the
floor, ankles tied together and hands tied behind their backs.

Rowan:  I wonder who we've annoyed recently?

Dix has a sudden thought: Tim -- do you have that Swiss Army knife on you?

Tim: I never go anywhere without it these days.  But it's in my righthand
trouser pocket, out of reach.

Dix wriggles close to him.

Dix: Maybe I can pry it loose with my teeth...

SFX: Munching sound, cloth ripping,-- Tim gasping:  No! - Not there -- to the
RIGHT!!

Dix: Oops, sorry. It was a natural mistake.

Rowan: You two are having entirely too much fun.  Get that knife and keep your
minds on our predicament.

Dix manages to grip the knife with her teeth and Rowan backs up next to her so
she can pass it into his hands.  He pries a blade open and saws away at the
ropes around Dix's wrists.  Her hands free, she unties Tim's and Rowan's
wrists and our trio quickly gets rid of their ankle restraints.

Dix: Teamwork does it every time.

Rowan: And now let's get out of here, unless that big formidable-looking door
happens to be locked...

Tim tries the handle:  It's locked all right.  And I'm not going to try to
break it down.

Dix:  All together now -- Let us out! LET US OUT!!

From behind the door comes the pitter-patter sound of mouselike footsteps;
there is a creaky noise of a key turning in the lock.

Rowan: Don't tell me it worked.

The door opens slowly and reveals the tiny bent figure of the elderly clerk
who had been unfamiliar with the work of Dornford Yates just prior to our
friends' incarceration...

Man: Howdo, neighbors.  I'm Kindly Moonbloom, owner of this bookstore, and I
s'pose you're wondering how come you find yourselves to be all hampered-up by
them ropes...

Tim: Let me handle this.  He looks about as dangerous as a dead dandelion...

Rowan: By all means -- we know that you can lick your weight in wildflowers.

Dix: Uh, oh, I think he has a bodyguard...

From behind Mr. Moonbloom a huge form fills up the doorway:  a woman who would
be quite startling if she didn't weigh something over 400 pounds.  She is
wearing a red satin dress and blood-red lipstick to match...and two-inch
fingernails of the same colour.  In one hand, she delicately swishes a large
whip.

Mr. Moonbloom:  Meet my granddaughter, Petal.  See, she's visiting me fer a
month, from Rusty Skillet, Arkansaw, and she's just the biggest fan of Mr.
Curry's.

Tim [sotto voce:]  She could be FOUR of my biggest fans!

Mr. Moonbloom: She b'longs to that computer fan club thing, but she don't
write no mail to it, she just leaks.

Petal [in her booming voice:]  LURKS!!

Mr. Moonbloom: Whatever you say, honeysuckle. Anyways, her whole ambition in
life is to act out that there Rocky Pitcher Hooraw Show with you all.

Tim:  Oh, God...

Rowan:  Well, she could play the castle...

Petal steps forward and stares at Dix and Rowan.

Petal:  You two will be Brad and Janet.

Dix: 'Janet?' That wide-eyed, mealy-mouthed prissy little Barbie doll?!  I'm
too hip, too sophisticated --

Petal cracks her bullwhip near Dix's head and a spider on the wall dissolves
in a cloud of tiny moist debris.

Dix [snuggling up to Rowan:] Oh, Brad...

Rowan: Dammit, Janet,--you're standing on my foot!


              *                 *                 *


Petal Moonbloom, a very large and determined Timbo, has decided to stage her
recreation of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at Tim's own house where there
will be plenty of room for her specialty number.  She herds our friends out
the back door of the bookstore and into the bed of her grandfather's pickup
truck...

Mr. Moonbloom:  I advise you folks to go quiet-like...Petal here is the
champeen muleskinner of Lockjaw County.  Takes after her Maw.

Tim:  How appalling.  Wait until PETA hears about that.

Dix:  She doesn't really skin them; it's a term for a mule team driver.

Rowan:  And they always use those long sinewy brutal whips to get the mules'
attention.

Petal [from the driver's seat:]  Stop jawing back there!

Tim [in a lower tone:]  Never mind.  My faithful loyal incorruptible guard dog
Frank will hold her at bay when we cross the threshold and we can turn her
over to the proper authorities.

Rowan: Big, strong, hulking authorities, let's hope.

    *            *            *

Ten minutes later, Tim, Dix and Rowan watch reproachfully as Frank fawns all
over Petal and escorts her into Tim's living room.

Mr. Moonbloom:  Petal's always had a way with dumb animules.

Petal:  We're gonna need a couple more people here, to be Rocky and Magenta
and Riff Raff.  (She blushes slightly:)  I got my heart set on bein' Columbia.
Been takin' tap-dancin' lessons since I was a tadpole.

She opens her purse -- the size of a saddlebag -- and pulls out a Columbia
costume and sequined gold top hat.

Tim, Dix and Rowan carefully avoid meeting each other's eyes.

Dix [brightly:] Oh, that will be ummm, amazing!  Let me just phone Christine
-- I know she'd love to play Magenta...

Petal [glowering:] I'll be listening, Missy, so don't try nothin' funny.

Dix makes the call: ...And *bring* back the platforms you borrowed from *Tim*
-- and the garter belt with the satin *bows*...And see if Linda wants to play
Riff...Good,--thanks.

Petal looks at Dix suspiciously, but Rowan distracts her:

Rowan: We still need someone to play Rocky.  If I weren't already all agog at
the idea of personifying Brad, I would be only too delighted to place my
magnificent physique at your disposal [he thinks this over] -- not literally,
of course.

Petal: I warned you -- no tricks!

A shapeless lump of old rags lying on the hearth stirs and sits up.

Baldrick: Did you want me, my lord?

Rowan: About as much as Joan of Arc wanted a light.  Why aren't you making
yourself useful in the scullery?

Baldrick:  Couldn't find nothing what needed sculling, my lord.

Tim: *He* could play Rocky.  At least he's the right sex.  Probably.

Dix: Well, no one will ever know for certain.  He hasn't changed that outfit
since I've known him.

Rowan: Nothing of interest lies within Baldrick's wretched rags.  But consider
-- I've *seen* Baldrick in a posing pouch.  Believe me, it's a sight to make
women migrate and strong men vomit.

As they talk, Petal has disappeared into the library.  She now emerges -- 400
pounds of Petal packed into a Columbia costume complete with tap shoes.

Tim [flinching:] That's...what I call...*Titanic*!!

            *                  *                *


Tim, Dix and Rowan have reluctantly resigned themselves to the prospect of
performing an impromptu version of RHPS at the instigation of Petal Moonbloom
who won't take no for an answer.  Tim, the perfect if unwilling host, has
slipped a copy of the film into his VCR to help them get into the mood.

Petal, as Columbia, is just finishing a spirited tap dance the length of the
living room while our friends watch, spellbound.

SFX: CRASH!! Clink, clatter, crumble...

Tim: I never liked that lamp much anyway.  Or those figurines.

Rowan:  It was too bad about the life-sized cast iron statue of the Three
Graces, though.  Perhaps you can have it welded.

The doorbell rings and Dix hastens to answer it, but Petal joins her too
quickly for Dix to do more than cast a questioning glance at Christine and
Linda.  They give her a 'thumbs-up' sign and she smiles.

Linda is wearing a Riff-like butler's outfit and Christine is dressed as a
domestic as befitting Magenta.  They have also brought the remaining costumes
in a large box and start handing them out.

Baldrick receives a pair of gold trunks and matching hightop tennies and
stands waiting for more until Rowan pushes him aside.

Rowan: Go put those on -- first removing that thing you're wearing.

Baldrick [eagerly:] Then can I pose with those dim-bulbs, my lord?

Rowan: 'Dumbbells,' Dumbbell.  They would only be redundant.

Dix changes quickly into a Janet-style pink suit and Rowan clamps a Brad-ish
bow tie at the neck of his white shirt.  Tim, in fishnets and leather bodice,
stares moodily at a pair of 5-inch platform shoes.

Tim:  If I break a leg, just shoot me.  Please.

Dix:  You'll be fine -- it's like riding a bicycle.

Rowan: And if I had a shilling for every time I fell off my first bicycle...

Dix [to Tim:] Just a second,--your garter belt is undone.

Tim: I know.  I seem to have put on a few stone since 1975...when I fasten
this thing, it cuts off my circulation.

Petal pokes her head around the bedroom door:  Aren't you ready yet?!
[spitting on her hands]  Grab onto that doorframe --

Tim holds on desperately as Petal cinches up his garter belt by hauling away
at the ends...

Tim:  Now I know how Scarlett O'Hara felt.  I think I'm going to black out.

Dix [sidling up to Tim:] 'Touch-a, touch-a, touch-a, touch me...'

Rowan: Janet!  You forget yourself!

Dix: I you think I'm going to sing those lyrics to Baldrick, you're sadly
mistaken.

    *        *         *

Back in the living room, now all dressed to kill (or at least cripple, in
Tim's case) our friends mill around waiting for the videotape to rewind...

LindaF [bowing to Tim:]  Master!!  Can I perform any special service for you?
You have only to ask.  If you can't think of anything, permit me to anticipate
your slightest whim...[she whispers in his ear and he turns bit pink]

Christine [fending Linda off with her mop:] Is Riff annoying you, Master?
Because I can always send him to another planet.

Petal clears her throat suddenly and everyone snaps to attention.

Petal: While we're waitin' for the film, I wondered if you might sing a little
song for me, Mr. Curry?

Tim: Oh, why not?  What would you like to hear?

Petal [shyly:] It's my favourite, 'cause when I won the Ladies' Muleskinning
and Hog-Slaughtering Event last summer, the Hoot 'n' Holler Washboard Trio
played it for me.  "Tangerine."

Tim: No...I don't think I know that one.

Dix: I do.  Here, I'll jot down the words for you...

The French doors leading to the garden open and Cap'n Martha walks in
nonchalantly.

Martha: I'll play the accompaniment if you like.  Sorry I'm late, but I had
some umm, organizing to do.

Tim totters over to the piano in his platform shoes and decides to sit on the
bench beside Martha while he sings:

Tangerine,
She is all they claim,
With her eyes of night
And lips as bright as flame;
Tangerine,
When she dances by,
Senoritas stare
And caballerors sigh...

And I've seen
Toasts to Tangerine
Raised in every bar
Across the Argentine...
Oh, she's got them all on the run
But her heart belongs to just one;
Her heart belongs to
Tangerine.

Dix: Second verse -- 

Tangerine,
She is all they say,
With mascara-ed eye
And chapeaux by Dache'...
Tangerine,
With her lips of flame;
If the colour keeps,
Louis-Philippe's to blame.

And I've seen
Clothes on Tangerine
Where the label says,
'From Macy's mezzanine.'
Yes, she's got the guys in a whirl,
But she's only fooling one girl:
--She's only fooling Tangerine!

Petal, smoldering like a taunted bull moose, heads for Dix, fingernails in
'claw' position -- but Dix blocks her with a sofa cushion.

Tim:  Places, everyone -- the tape's rewound.

                  *               *                  *


The Rocky Horror recreation is going well, except for a few minor changes in
action and dialogue...

LindaF [as Riff, taking Rowan by the bow tie:]  *You* can come in, Brad. Get
lost, Janet.

Dix: 'Faithful handyman,' my foot.  Step aside; it's almost time for the Time
Warp.

And as the tape reaches the ballroom scene, by prearranged coincidence the
French doors burst open and a flock of Transylvanian Timbos streams in.

Petal's jaw drops and she slips unnoticed from the room.

Bryan [outside:] Wait for me!

He enters, dresed as Eddie and riding a unicycle.

Bryan: I didn't think that Tim would appreciate a motorbike on his hardwood
floors...

Tim: Too kind.

Dix:  I'm beginning to have second thoughts about that S.O.S. I sent to
Christine.

The strains of the Time Warp begin and the Timbos instantly form into two
lines.

Sharon S., Cuz Carol, Jacquie and Maria: '...It's just a jump to the left..'

Dina, Betty T, Mel, Dani and Martha: '...and then a step to the ri-i-i-i-i-
ight...'

Patty M, Adrienne, Linda E, Betty B: '...Put your hands on your hip...'

All Timbos in unison: '...And bring your knees in ti-ight...but it's the
pelvic thrust that really drives you insa-a-a-a-ane! -- Let's do the Time Warp
again!'

As the song reaches its conclusion, the Timbos diverge from the script:
instead of dropping to the floor, they converge around Tim who is innocently
awaiting his cue for 'Sweet Transvestite.'

Dix: Oh, well, that costume was much too tight on him anyway...

Rowan [shuddering:]  Did you ever see that Wild Kingdom episode where the
lions stripped a zebra carcass in 35 seconds?...

Jacquie: Look, I got a whole fishnet!

Betty B: Not for long, Sister!

Cap'n Martha: Order! Order! I will have order!

Cuz Carol: I'd like fries to go with this Curry...

Patty M: That's MY platform, you hussy!...

And as Tim is going down for the third time beneath the onslaught of Timbo
souvenir hunters, Petal hears Columbia's song on the videotape and comes
dashing out of the kitchen where she had been leaking [Petal: LURKING!!] to
throw herself into an abandon of wild tapdancing....

Timbos in her path are mowed down like bowling pins as Petal gives her all to
her art.  At the end of her number, Dix and Rowan give her a hearty round of
applause.  Tim, lying near the sofa, is wearing only a ripped pair of black
briefs but looks much happier now that he can breathe freely once more.

Baldrick can't seem to take his eyes off Petal.  He approaches her shyly and
gazes up (and up) at her.

Baldrick: Umm, nice moustache you've got, Miss.

Petal [looking down bashfully:] Thanks, but it's grape juice.  Hope nobody
minds, but I had to have a little snack to keep my strength up.

Baldrick: I have a turnip I've been saving for a special occasion...

Petal: I'm...just crazy about turnips.

Rowan ['cunning plan' written all over his face:]  Madam, Baldrick here has
been in my unfortunate family for more years than I can bear to think of --
but if you would like to avail yourself of his questionable services, pray
take him with my compliments.

Petal:  You mean it?  I can have this li'l fellow for my own?

Rowan: I insist.

Petal picks Baldrick up and tucks him under her arm and starts for the door,
Mr. Moonbloom following.

Mr. Moonbloom: Nice meeting you folks.  Thanks for the animule, whatever it
is.

    *            *             *

Later, after the last of the Timbos has reluctantly left the scene of the
carnage, Tim, Dix and Rowan are relaxing in the battlefield...umm, living
room.

Tim: I was thinking of redecorating soon anyway.

He leans back on the couch, then springs upright.

Tim: Something stabbed me!

Dix looks at the cushion and pulls out a two-inch long red clawlike object:
Oh, it's just one of Petal's fake fingernails.  Want it for your memory book?

Rowan: Not to change the subject, but weren't we going to inter that extinct
fish of yours, Tim?  It's nearly dark outside so we might as well start.

Tim gets a trowel from the conservatory while Dix and Rowan head for the
kitchen.

Rowan opens the fridge door:  Ah, it looks as if it might be time for a trip
to the grocery -- I've never seen such an expanse of emptiness.

Dix [slowly:] Petal...had...a little snack...to keep...her strength up...

Tim: I won't be needing this trowel then.

The End.

Back to Dixie's page