Midnight was three hours past curfew, and he wouldn’t be home for another two hours after that, at least. The Virgins were being brought up onstage, pink Vs written in lipstick on cheeks to signify that they’d never seen the film. He’d seen it in bits and pieces over the years, snuck in whenever it would come on TV at Halloween and he could catch some before his parents walked in the room. So he thought this meant he wasn’t a Virgin. His friend disagreed, and she shouted as much to the emcee.
The crowd erupted, and the emcee went over the microphone about how we almost missed one, how he almost got away. He got two Vs and some pink lipstick to go with them as punishment, and he was brought onstage with the rest.
His friend kept laughing at him as he was made to swing a dildo over his head, sit on a balloon till it popped, and take his shirt off. He felt himself going red at first, but then he went for it, winking at her in the crowd and blowing kisses.
And then, when the Virgins were back in their seats and “Science Fiction Double Feature” was issuing from the sound system, he turned to his friend and the blown kisses became real ones.
(Happy birthday, Richard O’Brien!)