Page 2 of Finding Frankenstein a Date

Franky shook his head. “No, it wasn’t nice. And neither is photoshopping out my bolts and scars and then showing up with them.”

“We could get Jenny to give you a makeup job. I bet she can minimize them.”

“I’d still look different when they met me in person. Unless she’s supposed to spend the rest of her life putting makeup on me.”

Drac hung over the arm of his chair, looking at the pictures Bob had taken. “That’s the one. He’s smiling at least. You’ve got a good smile, Franky.”

“Thank you.”

“And you have a big heart. You should include that in the profile,” Drac suggested.

“It is big. It’s huge in fact. The Doctor looked for the biggest one he could find.”

“That’s not what I—” Drac shook his head. “Nevermind. What about your cock?”

“What about it?”

“Is it huge as well? Because that’ll make a bigger difference than whether or not your heart is large.”

“And does it… does it work?” Bob asked.

Franky thought that was a little personal. “It performs the functions it was intended to.”

“All the functions?” Bob asked

And Drac nodded, then sawed his hips back and forth. “Like all the functions.”

Franky growled at Drac. “That’s what I said.”

“And it’s not in danger of falling off if things get a little… vigorous?”

Now Drac was just being a turd.

“Why would it fall off?”

“Well, you are stitched together…”

“In all the years I’ve been reanimated, nothing has fallen off and it is all still where the Doctor put it and everything works as it should.”

“Good to know.”

“Okay, okay, I think we’re getting off track here,” Bob noted. “Let’s start with the basics.”

“What do you consider basics?” Franky asked.

“Age, height, general body build, job, hobbies, that kind of thing.”

“He’s old,” Drac told Bob. “I’m not sure putting his actual age will get him any matches.”

Franky sat there with his mouth hanging open for a long moment. “Says the guy whose older than me by how many hundred years?”

Drac shrugged. “It’s not the years, it’s the mileage, baby. I tell you, if you want to look youthful, you just need to pick up a two pint a day habit.”

“I’m not drinking blood.”

“Your choice.”

“Besides. I look the same now as I did the day I was made. Better even.” There’d been a few scars that had been very badly sewn up, and he’d met a seamstress a few generations back who’d been a whiz with the needle. She’d taught him a thing or two in bed, too.