Lawrence Frightengale Investigates

On his arm, the cabaret performer Myrna Boy, resplendent in a shimmering red evening gown, raised a tastefully gloved hand to shiny red lips in a mock scream and shook the blonde locks of her elegantly coiffed wig. Lawrence leered down into the mischievous blue eyes of his lover. Behind the glamorous ʼ40s Hollywood makeup of his alter ego Myrna, Nicholas Benson grinned back wickedly. Lawrence pulled Myrna upright, squeezing their bodies close before twirling her away.

“Sweetheart, your thunder is being stolen by this monstrosity of a car you insisted on borrowing for the parade.” Myrna laughed in a smooth contralto, leaned back against the side of the black Cadillac El Dorado convertible, and arched a perfectly drawn brow at him.

The poster set up beside the dancing pair showed Lawrence looming in his cravat and faux crushed-velvet smoking jacket, with the words:

See Lawrence Frightengale in person!
Come to the 16th annual Out & About parade,
the original celebration benefiting out gay youth!

Meet Lawrence Frightengale,
horrifying host of Channel 11’s Terror Time
(Friday nights at 11:00 p.m.—“Be there and be scared!”)

See the amazing Frightmobile!

“I had to beg Ellington to let me borrow this car,” Lawrence said, bowing to kiss the air above Myrna’s gloved fingers as the cameras flashed around them. “Did Max tell you it has a history? When the original Terror Time was canceled back in ʼ77 after Count Creepula retired, Ellington Senior gave the Cadillac to his son as a birthday gift. Channel 11 bought the Caddy for Creepula’s public appearances. It was featured in the series’ weekly promos around the same time Ellington the younger was getting his feet wet at his dad’s station as a production assistant, and he fell in love with it.” Lawrence reached past Myrna to rub a spot on the car’s side door, looking guilty when he caught her knowing smirk.

“Looks like you have a soft spot for the old girl too,” she said with a grin.

Lawrence slid his arms around Myrna’s waist and pressed his body against the manly frame hidden beneath her red satin dress before leaning close to gaze into her eyes. “You’re the only girl for me, Myrna.” The catcalls from their audience quirked his lips up in a grin, and he left a kiss on the long line of Myrna’s neck where, predictably, his lipstick smudged. Lawrence rubbed the light red imprint off with a thumb and an apologetic smile.

“Mr. Frightengale, can we get one of you next to the hood ornament?” someone called out from the crowd. Lawrence pulled himself out of Myrna’s arms, then walked to the front of the car to lounge next to the giant metallic black widow perched on the hood. He shuffled sideways to keep from obscuring the ornamental spider-web grille.

“Myrna! Sit on the hood next to him!” another voice screamed.

“No! There will be no sitting on the car!” Max McDowall strode in front of them, blocking the audience from the performers and the Cadillac. The authority in his voice was undermined by the yipping of the tiny short-trimmed Maltese nestled in his arms.