ACT I

(Ops. OPHIDIA has just finished talking DAX and O'BRIEN into participating.) 

DAX: Sure, Phidder. Rocky Horror was one of Curzon's favorites. I'll be honored.

OPHIDIA: Thanks. Chief, I appreciate your volunteering her, but are you *sure* Keiko will be willing to do this?

O'BRIEN: She'll be thrilled. She loves to sing -- she's quite good. She thought about becoming a professional but went with botany instead. In fact, when she was on the concert circuit, "Touch Me" was one of her
recital pieces.

OPHIDIA: (Staring) Really.

O'BRIEN: It's part of the standard classical repertoire.

OPHIDIA: (trying to take this in stride) I'll get back to you with the rehearsal schedule, I have to go twist a few more arms. (She starts leaving)

DAX: Who's going to be Frankie?

OPHIDIA: Oh *that's* easy. There's only one being on this station who could pull it off.
 

(Cut to BASHIR and GARAK's quarters. GARAK has just settled onto a couch with a PADD when BASHIR enters. GARAK looks up as he approaches)

GARAK: (sweetly) Peldor Joy, Pookums. (BASHIR kisses him)

BASHIR: So your mood has improved.

GARAK: Lwaxana's dress finally fits. That helps.

BASHIR: Working on Dickens?

GARAK: I couldn't stand it after the second paragraph. I should think his novels would be outlawed under Federation anti-torture agreements. No, this is something Ophidia dropped by with. Sisko has apparently blackmailed her into directing a play for the festival.

BASHIR: Blackmailed?

GARAK: I must say I'm impressed; I didn't know he had it in him. She wants me to be in it. Something called *The Rocky Horror Picture Show.* (BASHIR laughs) I'm supposed to be a Doctor ... (reads the unfamiliar name off the screen) Frank Furter. (BASHIR gasps)

BASHIR: Garak, that's *wonderful*!

GARAK: Why?

BASHIR: Oh, you *have* to do it.

GARAK: I don't know ... from what I've seen of Terran drama ...

BASHIR: But Garak, Frankie is *the* part! It's really his show. And it's a fabulous role.

GARAK: But I can't act, Doctor --

BASHIR: I cannot believe I'm hearing this. *You* can't act?

GARAK: Well, I can't! I've never been in so much as a propaganda video.

BASHIR: Garak, your entire *life* is acting.

GARAK: It's one thing to improvise your own identity, Doctor, but it's quite another to try to assume someone else's.

BASHIR: Didn't you tell me that the secret to being a great liar is being able to believe what you say? (GARAK nods) Well, that's all acting is.

GARAK: (doubtfully) In that case, I suppose I could try ...

BASHIR: You'll be fantastic. (BASHIR nestles in his lap; GARAK tosses the PADD aside. Wistfully) I wonder who gets to be Rocky.
 

(Cut to a corridor where OPHIDIA is pleading with WORF)

OPHIDIA: You're the only one with the body for it. And I hear you have a fantastic singing voice.

WORF: It is true that my portrayal of Kahless in the QapLa! cycle has been critically acclaimed on the Klingon homeworld ...

OPHIDIA: You see? You'd be --

WORF: -- but I cannot employ my gift for this purpose. For Klingons, opera is a sacred rite. This ... play ... is not sacred.

OPHIDIA: But Mr. Worf, *all* drama has a sacrificial aspect. This is part of a religious festival --

WORF: I would have to ... touch ... O'Brien's mate. He is my friend. It would not be right.

OPHIDIA: It's only pretend.

WORF: No. If it were Riff-Raff, or the narrator ... but I refuse to play *that* part.

OPHIDIA: What, is there no *honor* in wearing gold lame briefs?

WORF: There is no honor in being fondled by a Cardassian petaQ.

OPHIDIA: (coldly) You disappoint me, Mr. Worf.

WORF: My refusal is final.

OPHIDIA: Very well. I'll just have to find myself a *different* micro-brained testosterone-crazed -- (WORF growls; OPHIDIA takes to her heels down the corridor, ducking into Quark's for safety. ODO and QUARK are
there involved in the usual quibbling)

QUARK: You know what? I'm going to have this place gutted and all the furniture removed just so I'll know you're not one of the tables.

ODO: It wouldn't help. I can be a floor. (QUARK groans)

OPHIDIA: Riff-raff.

ODO: I beg your pardon.

OPHIDIA: Riff-Raff. You.

ODO: I've been called many things, Ophidia, but --

OPHIDIA: No, no no. I'm directing a play --

ODO: Ah, yes, I've heard about this. The Terran travesty. No thank you.

OPHIDIA: You know *everything,* don't you?

ODO: Yes.

OPHIDIA: Then you know you're the right man for the part. Riff-Raff is the controlling force that counteracts Frankie's entropic decadence. He's the character in charge of restoring the social order after Frankie shoots it
all to hell. The Puritan. The enforcer. It's you all over.

ODO: Thank you, I have no desire to put myself on public display. I had quite enough of that in the laboratory.

OPHIDIA: I see. Well, I can understand then. I would have enjoyed seeing you shoot Garak, but --

ODO: (reluctantly interested) I would get to shoot Garak?

OPHIDIA: Oh, yes -- didn't you know?

ODO: Suddenly I find myself intoxicated by the smell of greasepaint and the roar of the crowd.

OPHIDIA: Wonderful. What about you, Quark?

QUARK: What about me?

OPHIDIA: I thought you might be the narrator.

QUARK: How much will I get paid?

OPHIDIA: This is amateur drama. (QUARK chortles)

QUARK: As the seventy-third rule of acquisition states, Ms. Varegia, nothing is less profitable than community theater. I'm not interested.

OPHIDIA: Alas. I suppose I'll have to talk to someone else about the merchandising contract.

QUARK: Merchandising?

OPHIDIA: Audience participation is a huge element of this play. They'll need props -- toast, water pistols, newspapers, lighters, dry rice, all kinds of things. It used to be these were all common household items but of
course now they'd all have to be replicated ... or purchased.

QUARK: What did you say this character does?

OPHIDIA: Practically nothing.

QUARK: In that case, count me in.

ODO: Then I'd *better* come along, just to make sure he doesn't sell the set out from under you.
 

(Cut to another corridor, where OPHIDIA has waylaid KIRA on her way to the racquetball courts)

KIRA: It's not that I don't admire the piece, but you must admit the female roles are absolute hengtwap.

OPHIDIA: In the original film, yes, I agree, but that was under a male director. I think with the right interpretation--

KIRA Columbia is pathetic.

OPHIDIA: But that's exactly why I need you to play her. (KIRA glares) Columbia has *always* been seen as a bimbo, but I think if you look at the text there's room for much more. I want my production to have the first
ever kick-butt, take-no-prisoners, punked-out, post-apocalyptic, I-may-wear-a-little-spangly-Marlene-Dietrich- hat-and-sing-like- Cyndi-Lauper-on- helium-but-that-doesn't-mean-I-can't-knock-your-ass-into-next-week
Columbia, and I need you to do it. (KIRA starts walking away. As her last card) Dax is going to be Eddie! (KIRA stops. Vexed with herself, she turns around)

KIRA: When did you say you want to start rehearsing?

OPHIDIA: May the Prophets rain blessings upon you.

KIRA: All right, all right. Who's Magenta?
 

(Cut to OPHIDIA's quarters, where she and ALTARIA are sitting together on the couch)

ALTARIA: Well, who *is* going to be Magenta?

OPHIDIA: I have no idea. I've cast everyone else --

ALTARIA: I hope you got your revenge on Sisko.

OPHIDIA: Oh yes. He's Dr. Scott.

ALTARIA: Well, I'm sure he'll look divine in fishnets and heels.

OPHIDIA: I don't even want to think about it. I convinced Quark to be the narrator because he has --

ALTARIA:  -- no neck.

OPHIDIA: Exactly. Incidentally, Worf turned out to be a 'phobe, so I had to give Rocky to Bashir. You should have seen the smile on his face.

ALTARIA: He's completely wrong for the part, you realize.

OPHIDIA: I know, but at least the chemistry will be there. But I'm stuck on Magenta. And don't look at me like that. My hair's nowhere near big enough.

ALTARIA: We could try.

OPHIDIA: NO. Acting and directing is a one-way ticket to disaster. Look at Branagh's *Hamlet.*

ALTARIA: Too true. (Thinks) Didn't Deanna Troi tag along with her mother the ambassador this year?

OPHIDIA: You are an evil genius.

ALTARIA: That's why you love me.
 

(Cut to the Promenade. OPHIDIA is talking to LWAXANA, heinously attired in a huge flowered chintz gown that looks like seven dead and skinned sofas stitched together, and DEANNA.)

DEANNA: Oh, I'm not really sure I --

LWAXANA: Don't be such a poky old stick-in-the-mud. You loved drama when you were a little girl. (DEANNA rolls her eyes) And she was good. You should have seen her as Val in her secondary school production of *A Chorus Line.* "Dance ten, looks three -"

DEANNA: MOTHER!!

OPHIDIA: It'll be fun. Kira's Columbia, Odo's going to be Riff-Raff --

(LWAXANA coughs)

LWAXANA: Ms. Meridian, are you sure you don't need someone more ... mature ... for the part?

OPHIDIA: (aghast at the prospect) Madam Ambassador, I ...

DEANNA: (quickly) I'll do it.

OPHIDIA: Thank you so much --

LWAXANA: (to OPHIDIA) You should be careful, you know, I'm a full telepath.

OPHIDIA: Ma'am ... when you're as bad a liar as I am, *everyone* is a full telepath.

*end Act I*