Rocky Horror Night
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

It is just the thing everybody does. If you are going to the stage show if it is on, or even a special viewing of the movie, guys go in drag. It was just that in my case I couldn’t pull it off. It didn’t look like drag on me. It just made me look like a girl.

That’s my hair. Yeah, sure , it is a little long. But all the girls did is wash it with some “blonding” shampoo and blow dry it for volume, trimming it into a bob with curtain bangs.

I should have gone for much more makeup. All the guys did. It seemed that when the girls realized that even without any make up at all I did not look like a guy, that they wanted to push me in that direction.

Clothes were simple – black leather skirt, fishnet stockings and heels, just like the other guys. I wanted to wear my tee-shirt. It is mine. I am a genuine fan. I just had to wear something underneath to give me a bust, a cinched waist and something in the way of hips. The other guys went way over the top, but the girls said it was not right for me

There were no pockets in the skirt, so I carried a red clutch. In it my tickets to the show, my phone, my credit card, anda little cash, some lipstick and mascara with instructions on how to refresh. All the girls carry a bag like that. So what do you do with it when you need two free hands? I just can’t work it out. Surely plenty of girls must put it down somewhere and then turn around and it is gone? A clutch – what a crazy thing that is.

I lost the girls somewhere at the after party. They must have moved on to another bar. I found myself surrounded by guys, all asking me for my phone number. My voice is not super deep, but it was a man’s voice. But then on Rocky Horror Night all the girls were putting on husky voices. We were all trying to be Frank N. Furter for the night. It was just that none of them believed that I was a guy.

And then there I was, dressed like this, except without the clutch. Totally fucked.

A couple of guys offered to take me home. I just said that I needed money for a cab, but then one guy in particular struck me as genuine. He was dressed as Riffraff but had taken off the rubber skull cap to reveal a fine head of wavy brown hair. He was not clamoring to get my attention, he was just standing nearby.

He said that he was leaving and that he would be happy to drive me home. I took up the offer. I got into his car – some kind of low European sports car which I had to swing into butt first.

“I am not really a girl,” I said, as we sped away. “It is Rocky Horror Night – right?”

“I would not be so quick to say that”, he said. “To be honest, I thought that you might not be female, but I have been watching you and my conclusion is that you are, whatever lies under that leather skirt.”

“I have a girlfriend,” I said. “In fact, I have a bunch.”

“I don’t have one at the moment,” he said. “I like women. I like them to look like you. I hear what you are telling me, but hey, what the Hell, it’s Rocky Horror Night, and I am in the mood for something adventurous. What about you?”

The way I figured it, I was fucked anyway, and – like the man said – it was Rocky Horror Night.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2021

Author’s Note: The stage show “The Rocky Horror Show” was first performed in 1973, so is almost 50 years old. The film starring Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon, Barry Bostwick and the show’s creator Richard O’Brien was made in 1975.