Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera…oh the things I would do if I did…

(is still dreaming)

What? Should I start the fic now? Right, sorry.

Anyway, this story is going to have some random appearances from me and a few of my friends. If you would like to appear in it too, then please, by all means, you have but to ask. If you are a rabid Erik phangirl, I welcome you into our love circle…which surrounds Erik on all sides…allowing no escape…HAHAHA! YOU'VE PASSED THE POINT OF NO RETURN! Sorry.

…………………………………………………

Erik sat musing in his underground lair. Christine had only recently left him for that fop, Raoul. Even worse, everyone now believed him dead. He deplored that Leroux man for the ending he'd put in his novel. Just because it was a more angsty ending didn't mean he had to kill him off! Erik had read the novel, and went on a bit of an Opera Ghost rampage for no reason when he got to the end. The stagehands would be repainting that backdrop for a couple of days at least…

There was suddenly a knock at his door. This puzzled him very much, for two reasons. One, now that Christine was gone, there was virtually no one else who knew this house was here. Two, whoever did know it was here was knocking at the home of a man presumed dead. That's not common.

Erik went up to the door and looked through the tiny peephole he'd installed after opening it to find a pizza delivery guy with a prank address on the step. That Raoul really couldn't do the threats and sly tricks. Compare a croak and a falling chandelier to a pizza boy sent to an I. M. Ugly. How original. Plus he'd had to pay for the seven pineapple and bacon pizzas.

Anyway, as he looked through the hole, he was greeted by a very large brown eye staring back at him. He jumped back. Someone was peeping through his peephole!

He shuddered at the possible nasty connotations of the thought that had just floated across his brain, then sighed and pulled open the door.

Standing on his dirty front step was a rather short girl, obviously the body attached to the brown eye he'd seen. She had long brown hair and pale skin, and was wearing a long, black skirt with her black shirt with bell sleeves, making her difficult to discern against the shadowy background of the cellar. She wore black, oval glasses that weren't very becoming, and was clutching a large, white spiral notebook.

When this mystery girl saw Erik, in all his masked, Phantom glory, she grinned widely and held out her hand. "Hi," she introduced herself. "My name is Aislin. I have a special announcement to make to you."

Erik stared at her. "And how do you know me?"

Aislin smiled wider. Somehow it was kind of disturbing. "Oh, there are lots of girls out there who know you. We're quite dedicated phangirls."

"Phangirls?" Erik had fans?

"Yup. Anyway, it's very important, so could I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, she pushed her way into the little house, leaving Erik dumbfounded at the door.

Aislin glanced around happily at the décor for a while, before settling herself down on a comfy chair near the piano. "Nice. I play myself. I sing too, much better than I play piano. But enough chat. Please, sit." Erik obliged, seating himself on the piano bench.

The girl cleared her throat and began to speak in a rehearsed voice. "Erik No-Last-Name-Submitted, you have been selected to participate in an all new contest, The Love of His Life! In –"

"WHAT?!" Erik jumped up, horrified. Aislin glared at him with a more evil look than he would have thought her capable of, and he fell silent.

"I practiced this over and over, and I'm going to say it right. Now then, in this contest, you will be provided with any number of women willing to throw themselves at your feet for your love. You will take them on trial dates. When you have found one that you believe you truly love, you will be sent off on a romantic vacation to see how the relationship works out. But choose wisely, only one love may be selected. Congratulations on your fateful success!" She grinned at him.

Erik stared back. The Love of His Life? Christine was the love of his life! How…how…

"How did I win this? I never entered…"

"See that's the thing." Aislin smiled and leaned forward thoughtfully. Erik thought she was enjoying being here too much. "The other Erik phangirls and I think you've been spending too much time moping over the loss of Christine. She's gone, she loves Raoul – although why I will never understand. The truth is, Erik, that there are plenty of other women out there, dying for your love. Since we knew you'd never go out to find one on your own, we took it upon ourselves to get you out there! And now you'll have boatloads of phangirls to choose from. One of them has got to make you happy."

Erik was shocked. This girl wanted him to go out and date other women. And what would they think of him? Why would a large group of girls want to date a hideous, masked, murdering monster dubbed The Phantom of the Opera? Hey, after years of hearing it, he wasn't afraid to say it. What really baffled him was the fact that he had fans. Apparently a large following. Fans of what, pray tell? What was he going to do?

Well, the excitement of days past was gone with Christine. His opera was completed, and it had been a nasty chore – he wasn't in the mood to start another. So, basically, he had nothing left to keep him here except the moderate thrill of just being the Opera Ghost. And dropping chandeliers had lost its old satisfaction. But still…

"I really don't think I can do this," he said to Aislin. "I mean, it's so soon, and I'm really not a social person…"

"Nonsense! With your voice, you can charm any woman you choose! Now, the limo is waiting on the ground level, and you have about twenty minutes to pack."

A limo? Well, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. "Okay, then," Erik said hesitantly. "I guess we could try this. It's not like I have anything better to do."

Going into his bedroom, he realized that, as he did no traveling, he had no suitcase. For lack of anything better to use, he went to Christine's former room and pulled the case off of a pillow. Inside it, he stuffed two more black suits and a spare cape. He took two more masks too, just in case. Back in the days when he'd had only one, it had slipped off while he rowed across the lake and sank, and, well…a certain someone had seen him without it. And subsequently fallen into a certain chamber. A certain chief of the flies. And suffered a certain death.

After packing his violin case into the pillowcase as well (the end of the violin case stuck out awkwardly – Christine's pillows weren't that big), he realized that he didn't have much else he wanted to take with him. He was the Opera Ghost. What more did he need?

So he exited his room with the case in his arms. "I'm ready," he announced.

"Good!" Aislin bounced up from where she'd been sitting at the piano, plunking out random notes that had ultimately taken the form of Masquerade. "Then we'll go now. I'm the coordinator of the contest, so I'll be with you nearly all the time. I love you so much – this is going to be fun!" And she skipped very uncharacteristically out to the waiting boat.

"On second thought," muttered Erik, "maybe I should pack something else." And he grabbed his Punjab lasso as he locked up the house.

………………………………………………

Well, there's the first chapter. I know it's short, I'm sorry. I'm not that good at humor, please don't flame me! I think it's going to turn out well.

Hey, did anyone know that Punjab is actually a word? I noticed that my Word program didn't mark it as misspelled, so I looked it up. It's a region in India and Pakistan, which makes sense, since that's where the Punjab lasso is from. But if I was the only one who didn't know that, then I feel stupid. Anyway, read and review PLEASE!