[sral]

Frank crawled into the dark room, too young to really distinguish what it was he was seeing. As the sepia toned Polaroid photograph came into focus, he could see his Father for the first time in years. I use the term father in the loosest sense. Sure, he had sired the reclusive textcee we now know, but he was far from the role model Frank needed. His memory failed him where his dad was concerned. There was a vast black space where his love should have been. It made Frank inconsolable with rage to know his love was unreciprocated. That he was ignored. Unloved. Unwanted. Franks father had left the family in New York many years before, leaving behind only shaven ginger pubic hairs on the sink basin and his torn army camouflaged jacket. The same jacket Frank had worn in his NC pic. The flame haired beard Frank rocked a constant reminder of his firecrotch he was spawned from. Franks only memoirs of days gone by before his father left. Why did he leave? The same reason anyone ever leaves. For more. For better. For opportunity. Franks father wanted to find himself, or herself as it turned out intact... Franks father was a transvestite calling himself Francine down at the Tuck and Sing gay karaoke bar downtown. It was here under the technicolor lights of the discotheque he found himself, or her herself, to be precise. With his testicles tucked safely between his legs, Francine sang to his hearts content at a pitch even Pavarotti would struggle with. Even more so now he's buried six feet deep. But alas, in realising his/her dream Francine had a new lease on life. A reason to sing. A reason to be. A reason to believe. "I'll be leaving now," Francine told his wife, dressed like a human glitterball caught in the strobe lights, dazzling head to toe with his suitcase at his feet - trapped between his legs much like his tiny cock and balls. It was the right thing to do. For Frank, for his mother Frances, and for his father Francine. What use is the man of the house if that same man is a woman at heart (one with hairy breasts, at that) This was his moment. Francines departure clearly affected Frank as he grew older and longer, much like the Oompa Loompa coloured armpit hair he had inherited. It wasn't until he found The Lime that young Frank's afflictions really began to show, though, bubbling beneath the surface like his spreading acne majorca. Frank assumed a feminine persona, following in the crossdressing high-heeled footsteps his dad had carefully taken years before. Frank was now "Cherry" - the colour of the chapstick sang about in his fathers favourite Katy Perry song. The same song his father had entertained the regular incumbents of the Tuck and Sing karaoke bar with. Ladies and Gentleman, I give you... FRANK!