Ladies and gentlemen, here it is. My very first crapfic. I wrote this when I was nine years old, when my only exposure to Phantom was the London highlights cassette (this was a long time ago) and a hurried reading through Leroux's book (which I judged "gross"). So although I didn't write this as a parody, I'm adding comments and posting it as such. The story is in bold and my comments are in regular type. All punctuation and spellings in the story are kept in their original form.

Chapter 1

Who Is Erik?

The young girl looked at her dead lover after awaking from her drugged unconciousness. A life without him was utterly pointless. She took his dagger, prayed under her breath, and stabbed herself. She too was now lifeless as she fell. (At the time, I hated repetition and suffered from "elongated yellow fruit" syndrome- namely, I wouldn't ever have said the word banana twice in the same paragraph. First time, it's banana. Second time, it's elongated yellow fruit.)

"Bravo! Bravo! Well done!"

The 'dead' man and woman rose, alive again. For it was not the real Romeo and Juliet, but Carolus Fonta, an opera tenor, and Christine Daae, an opera soprano-alto (what the hell is a soprano-alto?), rehearsing the operatic version of Shakespeare's tale.

Christine had a genius for drama. She could adjust her pink makeupped lips and shining eyes to become sad- or moody-looking, angry- or hurt-looking. (Now that's talent… sheesh… and "makeupped"? Seriously, I wrote "makeupped"?) She had a Swedish father and a French mother, both dead, thick wavy hair of a chestnut brown hue, and lavendar eyes. No one knew where the young singer got her strangely colored eyes. Christine's family said she was just beautiful for no real reason. (Or maybe because she's been Mary Sued beyond recognition.)

One of her favorite childhood memories was when a Frenchman was conferencing with her father. He had not known Daddy Daae could speak French. So he marched up to him officialy, and proclaimed "Det luktar flingor har."

Daae began to laugh uncontrollably. He walked over to little Christine, and whispered in her ear, "That's Swedish for 'It smells of cereal here.' He can't understand a word of it." (That was the only Swedish phrase I knew. I was proud, too. And by the way, the Ewoks say that in their "Yub Nub" song in "Return of the Jedi. That's where I learned it.)

Christine learned a valuable lesson that day: don't speak a foreign phrase unless you know what it means! (And that was the last we see of Christine's dad.)

As she walked into her bedroom, she felt someone looming over her. She turned around and saw another young woman, a skinny, and fragile-looking one, with black eyes and hair. "Boo."

"Oooh, you're scary. Come here!"

That little dried plum of a Meg Giry (when Leroux purism leads to plagiarism!) and that ripe apple of a Christine Daae embraced in a sisterly hug.

As she entered her room, Christine heard a voice. "Touch the mirror. Touch it! Touch it

She walked up and touched it. Her own reflection spun around her. As if in a dream, she was suddenly outside her room……. (Oh, the dots!)

A man in a dark cloak and fedora hat was kneeling over her. "You are in no danger, Christine. Do not be afraid, Christine." A small well bubbled next to her. "Where am I? Who are you?" asked Christine. "I am not an angel, nor a genius, Christine…….I am Erik!" (Why he abducted her, we have no idea, as there has been no foreshadowing of obsession or anything.) Christine noticed his face was concealed in a mask- at least half of it was. (And at the time, I pictured him being really attractive otherwise. Erik now is really ugly in my stories, but when I was ten, Gerik would have suited me just fine.)

He carried her into a small boat. She laid herself down in it. There was a lake underneath the Opera. (Go figure. No explanations in THIS story!)

"You're wearing a mask." said Christine.

"Oh, really?"

"It's not the kind folks use to hide their identities."

"Then mine must serve a double purpose."

The arrogance! How dare he speak to respectable woman like that!

"You are very arrogant and very rude. I would truly appreciate it you would stop talking to me like that." (Yeah, Christine, you tell him, you bra-burning feminist, you.)

"Since when do women speak their minds?"

"Since now."

(Can you tell I was secretly reading my mother's romance novels at the time?)

The boat had now reached shore. "Get out." said Erik. Christine gracefully stepped off the boat. The ground was little stones. C hristine had never been in such a curious situation, but it did not bother her. This strange, if not cadaverous, escort was now gentle and polite. Suddenly, they reached a wall with a door in it. Erik pulled a skeleton key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. (What. The. Hell?)

"Ah. Home sweet home." he sighed with relief. The room was a comfortable, snug little place. Busts, priceless art and a leisure coach drew Christine's eye. (Sometimes I wonder if the production designer on V for Vendetta read this…)

"You live here?"

"Yes, I do. Come into my bedchamber." (Insert porn music here.)

The room in which Erik slept was a dark little place with two beds. As Christine looked at one of the beds, she realized it was not a bed, but a large open coffin!

"You sleep in a casket?" asked Christine, praying she was not in the presence of a dead man.

"Yes, one must get used to everything in life, even to eternity." was the reply. This upset the young girl so much she turned away her head. Then she noticed a large pipe organ on one side of the room. "An organ?" (If Gaston Leroux were alive right now, he'd have legal rights to his kidneys.)

"Yes. Why are you women so inquisitive?"

"Why are you men so obnoxious?"

They stood facing each other, clenching their fists, breathing heavily and gritting their teeth aggressively. (Seductive songs about the power of darkness and music? We don't need no stinkin' seductive songs about the power of darkness and music!)

Christine flopped onto the bed.

Erik dropped into the casket.

These two people were rather alike and it was driving them crazy!

(In the film adaptation, they will be portrayed as high school students, with Erik as "the jock" and Christine as "the brain" he hires to help him with his homework.)

"Can I go home?" asked Christine.

"Yeah."

(Because obsession and imprisonment is wrong!)

But before she left, Christine could not resist the temptation.

She pulled off the mask!

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

"Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggghhhhhhhh!"

Erik moaned.

Christine screamed.

They both buried their faces in their hands.

"CURSED UGLINESS!" yelled Erik.

"Horror, horror, horror!" screamed Christine.

"TERRIBLE HIDEOUSNESS!" yelled Erik.

"Oh, awful!" cried Christine.

Erik's face below the mask was everything they said: cursed, a horror, terrible, and awful. The veins, normally concealed within the skin, grew in the top layer. Deep scars cut through them. His eye bulged as if ready to pop from the socket. And as if all this was bad enough, the other side was perfectly normal. (Gerik what? "He's got a horrible SUNBURN!)

"Oh, Erik! No wonder you wear a mask!" (Now THAT'S sensitivity!)

Erik looked like some sort of monster as he spoke. "A-very-serious- tragic-incident-that-happened- two-years-ago!" he said in strange, broken words. Christine watched the way his yellow-tinged brown eyes moved around in his head. "You really do love me, huh?"

Erik was still moaning at himself in the mirror.

"The ugliness that segregated me from humankind. Damn that acid!" (Nothing ruins your day like acid.)

"Oh, cheer up! There's always tomorrow." (And at this moment, any hope for being a good phanphic finally dies in a very bloody manner.)

Christine propped up his cheeks into a smile, but dropped it quickly once she realized her fingers were being drooled on. "Eeew!" she muttered as she wiped her fingers on her dress. (Officially the only joke from this I've reused in a better context.)

"Oh, why me? Why not Napoleon? Why not Louis XIV?"

Christine fled, back up into the usual levels of the Opera as Erik moaned in grief.

Chapter 2

The Ordinary Lover and the Extraordinary One

Christine bust through the crowds, still trying to clear her mind of the horrible sight. Two strong arms reached out at her and pulled her trembling self towards their attached body. "Madamoiselle," said the man who had grabbed her, "are you alright?" "Yes, I'm- fine….." Her voice softened as she gazed up at the man. He was quite young, but had a full beard. (This is because Raoul was played by the doll representing the Grand Duchess Anastasia's father. The same doll, naked save a cape belonging to Queen Amidala from Star Wars, later fought crime with the Whacked-Out Hero Squad as Cloak Man, alongside Kick Girl, Fortune Cookie and The Bug. Yes, that is the sort of stuff I played with my dolls.)

He was wearing noble finery with a coat of arms and royal ribbon. Christine had seen this handsome face before- in newspapers, paintings, and photographs. The young man holding her was none other than the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny!

"Thank you, Monsieur le Vicomte." said Christine as she stood up.

"I see you know who I am. Who are you?" asked Raoul as he looked at her.

"Christine Daae. I'm an opera singer here."

"I see you have had quite a shock. Have you recovered?" asked Raoul gently. "Yes."

As the viscount led Christine to her room, she felt the same sort of love Erik did- wild, passionate, and unrequited. (Thus, the Disneyfication is complete. Christine and Raoul have no history together in this version.)

"Here you are, Madamoiselle Daae. Settle down, get some rest. You still look frightened." said Raoul kindly. "Why are you?"

"Oh, he is ugly!"

"Really, I do not understand you-"

"Poor Erik, to have such a face!"

"Mlle. Daae, are you-"

"Pity Erik!"

Raoul gave up. He walked out of her room, muttering "Who is Erik?", and worrying about Christine's mental state of health. (Speaking of which, why is Raoul hanging about the opera house? Apparently he isn't a patron in this universe, so what gives?)

Christine slept soundly that night. She was rather rudely awakened.

Erik had carried her off in her sleep. (Yes, down. Christine lives in her dressing room and sleeps through being carted underground.)

She was down in the real bed in his house, and he was waking her up with an army-style wake-up call played on his organ. (The reveille- you know, what the bugler plays to wake up the troops? Fine, I thought it was funny back then.)

"Let me guess," said Christine. "I'm underground again." (I thought this was the funniest line ever.)

"Oh, you're awake. Get up sunshine! It's a beautiful day, you're a beautiful woman. So get up." (Oh, the cheerful!1!)

"How can you tell? We're 50 feet underground."

"I just know. Want breakfast?"

"You cook?"

"No. I take from the kitchen."

"That's stealing."

"It's free."

"Are you always this charming or is it just me?"

"I'm always this charming."

"I wouldn't want to marry you. I'm going to ask a man if he would like to become my betrothed today." (Yes. Christine is not only planning to ask Raoul to marry her, she tells Erik about it. While we're at it, heaven is down, hell is up, it's raining monkeys and wood is now a drink.)

"Who?"

"Not you."

Erik paused. This woman was quite easily set apart from her peers. She was beautiful and smart. Was that good or bad, he wondered. (Not only is Christine unrealistically feminist, Erik has a Romance Novel Moment © and, rather than be pissed off that she's not his, he decides it merely spices up the chase. Would you like some ice with your log, sir?)

"I'm going to the kitchen. Do you want me to fetch you a gown?"

"Go ahead. Knock yourself out."

Erik disappeared, rowing down the lake. When he returned, he was carrying two platters of breakfast and a crushed velvet gown. "Here's your food and your gown." he said, bending down. "I also brought you the matching cap." Christine ate breakfast and then went into the bathroom to change.

"ERIK!"

"What?"

"This is my Juliet costume!"

"It's clothing."

"I can't wear this! It's a costume!"

"Oh who cares!"

So, Christine had to walk among the fashionable folk of the opera house in a Rennesaince style gown. "This is embarrasing. Just having to wear this to avoid people."

Suddenly, it all came to her. It was the same awful feeling Erik had about his mask. Poked and prodded because of a mask and a gown. (Omigosh, it's zackly the same!1!)

"Wait," said Christine, looking at her hands. "I touched him? Eeew! Phantom germs!" she said impulsively, wiping her hands on her dress.

Meg, working in the kitchen (Because the opera house has kitchens, apparently, and rather than hire a cooking staff the ballet rats do it.) , saw Christine. "Whoa, that girl needs help." She pulled her confused friend over. "Christine, what's up with you?"

"I've seen the opera ghost."

"What! The ghost? The opera ghost? The Phantom of the Opera?"

"Yes!"

Meg smiled and looked around the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a ghostspotter!"

After serenading her, one of them pointed to a note.

…

(Um, the management regrets to inform you that Erik's Note of Mischievous Malarky is not here. At least you can imagine the serenade mentioned above as being a lot like that "happy-happy-birthday" song they sing at restaurants. Anyway, the note tells Christine to sing the lead, Raoul to avoid Christine. . . and Jammes to get a haircut. Seriously. Interestingly enough, by backdating from a reference in the next chapter, Erik must have posted this on December 22, the day the Phantom movie came out. And that's funny because it's almost as bad as this.)

Chapter 3

Results

"Uh oh," said Christine. "it's December 27! The five days have passed!"

"Only one of them could have occurred by now: Jammes' hair!" said Meg.

Meg and Christine went to the dressing room of Danielle Marie-Paul Jammes, the young girl of fifteen commonly known by her last name. Oh, how Erik had spoiled her earthly beauty! He had cut a fuzzy ring of hair around her head. The rest of it was starched so it stood up. Jammes' hair was a deep, vivid red. It had been so long and beautiful!

"Excuse us." said Christine. Meg gasped.

"We have a situation."

Christine tried to brush it normal, but the ring still showed. "Sorry, girl. We have to." said Christine, taking out some shears. (What can't Christine-Suzette do?)

"I understand." said Jammes bravely. Christine thought she spotted a few tears roll down her rosy little cheeks. The scissors chopped away the pride and joy of the girl since she was very young. Just then Michelle Sorelli, the leader of the corps de ballet, and Madame Valerius, Christine's adopted aunt, both entered. (Pointless Leroux namedropping.Don't get excited.)

Sorelli was more of a mother to the girl than Madame Jammes.

"Oh my God and all his angels, what happened to you?" shrieked Sorelli. Meg, Christine, and Jammes looked at each other firmly, nodded and said at once, "The opera ghost." Sorelli gasped. "That's not hair, that's stubble! You poor thing! Oh…." The woman took her poor little shorn head in her arms.They both cried.Sorelli stroked her hair, now all the same lenghth of the ring. It was all less than two inches long.

Michelle Sorelli was a tall woman with thick golden hair that came only to her slender shoulders which preceeded slender arms and a slender body with slender legs. She was 42 years old, and had been dancing for 28 years.

Meanwhile, 'Mamma' Valerius (as Christine called her) was talking with her pretty little niece.

"So, how are you?"

"Terrible! I'm being stalked by a half-crazy violinist who lives 150 feet underground!" (Somebody PLEASE make that line into an avatar for me.)

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes!"

"Half-crazy?"

"I'm pretty sure!"

"How does he look?"

"Awful! He wears a mask! He's the weirdest, most nightmarish person I've ever met!"

"A mask?"

"Exactly!"

"Well, love, I have to, um, go. Ta-ta!"

And the grand woman left. (That was her only appearance.)

Faust was performed that night.

Christine was a stunning, lovely Margarita. Unfortunately, she was worried about Erik's 'assistance in it.

She was right.

As Christine sang on, pieces of scenery crashed more than they should. (They should?)

The entire backdrop fell, then the back curtain. Carlotta Guidicelli (who had croaked like a frog the day before) threw accusing looks at the other people on stage, then said:

"Who the hell did that?" (Give her a big hand, everybody!)

She expected no reply, but then heard one fiendish voice loudly proclaim:

"I did! And I shall bring the chandalier down!"

The voice came from Box 5- but it was empty! And sure enough, the tremendous bulk of the famous crystal chandalier swung over the audience, then fell. It injured 7 people and killed one woman, a soon-to-be boxkeeper.

Next morning, the Epoque's front page news read:

TWO HUNDRED KILOS

ON THE HEAD OF A BOXKEEPER

That was engraved on her tombstone!

Chapter 4

Macabre Hide and Seek

Christine and Raoul were on top of the Opera for a secret meeting. Erik had secretly followed, but they were unaware.

"Why are you so elusive to me?"

"Because Erik is there."

"Erik?"

"The Opera ghost! He loves me!"

"You love him!"

Erik nearly panted, hoping she would say yes. (Down, boy.)

"No! He is too horrible!"

Erik nearly cried.

"But I cannot be cruel! I pity him! HE LOVES ME! He will lay at my feet!"

"Ooooooooooh!" moaned Erik audibly in a terrible sadness. He was now giving himself away with his glowing eyes. (Wait- when did this Erik have glowing eyes?)

"I love you, Christine."

"I love you too."

"Marry me."

"I will." (But wasn't she the one who-? Wait, what? Oh, never mind; we've got a scream with a lot of unnecessary vowels and punctuation coming up.)

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Erik. "Christine Daae, you will curse the day you did not do the things I asked you to!" He laughed cruelly.

There was a masked ball. Christine went as Blue Midnight. (I have no memory of what Blue Midnight was supposed to look like. It sounds like a stripper name, doesn't it?)

The obvious center of attention was a fantastically garbed man. He had a wonderful death's head, plush robes and a huge hat. Stitch on the back were the words:

DO NOT TOUCH ME! I AM RED DEATH STALKING ABROAD!

Christine stepped up to him. He bowed elegantly. They danced. At the end, he hissed at her "I knew you would give in!"

Erik!

He tore off his costume robes and mask to reveal his regular masked self.

Terrible screams filled the room.

(The following is young Megan's misheard transliterations of what is said in the cast recording after Christine unmasks him in PONR.)

"What is it? What happened- the Phantom!"

"Oh my God, oh my God!"

"They're ruined, ruined!"

"Oh my God-dy, my God-dy! What fool let this happen?"

"Hands at the level of your eyes!"

"But why?"

"Oh- don't ask why! Christine! Where did that girl go!"

"Come with me, messiers! Hurry up, we will be to late!"

(It was around here that I melded all this with the snatches of "Why So Silent?" I'd read on the internet.)

Erik snickered as he held Christine, battling to escape. "Have you missed me, good people? I have composed for you my own opera!"

Christine watched helplessly as he flung the great bulk of Don Juan Triumphant at the acting managers, MM. Richard and Moncharmin.

"You do not have violent wishes or desires?" asked Moncharmin.

"Well, only of this opera remains unperformed or Mlle. Daae does not play the lead!"

Erik released Christine and disappeared.

Chapter 5

End of the Ghost's Love Story

The opera was performed. Erik was satisfied.

(Good.)

But once, in a different performance of Faust, Erik just abducted Christine. She was singing as Margarita when the lights flashed, chains rattled- and the diva vanished! The young, pretty brunette singer was gone. Everyone searched. Nothing was found.

(Not good.)

They did not know that 50 feet below them, Christine was being held captive by an unmasked phantom, his deformity laid bare to her. "Will you become my bride?" he asked. "All of my life, I have wanted to be like everyone else! I am sentimental and bourgois. I want to have a beautiful wife, take her out on Sundays. All I want is for you to say-"

"Yes!"

"You'll wed me?"

"No! But I have a plan to save your life."

(We are now entering the realm of what 5th-grade girls think is cool and empowering, mixed with a very mistaken impression of the location of the finale.)

Christine explained that by cutting her hair, wearing his clothes, and stalking about the opera, she could distract the mob of people while Erik stayed comfortable in his home. Erik said he would permit it, except he wanted to have rendezvous sites, the mask, and Christine should not cut her hair, just pin it up and put his hat on.

Christine and Erik's last rendezvous was the roof.

(Yes, the roof. I thought that it ended with the mob pushing Erik off the roof.)

Only one person had the courage to split away from the crowd and search for Christine.

Raoul.

When he saw the two identical figures on the roof, he approached them. "Alright, I don't know which of you is real, but I know you can both tell me where Christine is!"

"She's right here." said one.

For who was it really but the young kidnapped singer who had saved the ghost- her kidnapper! She took off her mask, let down her hair, and stood before him.

"This is Erik, who loves me dearly. I love him the way a sister might care for a beloved brother. Don't shoot him with your pistol, or scar him with your knife. He is not as villainous as he appears." (If you ever have a chance, flip through the script of "Urinetown". This whole scene now makes me think of "Urinetown".)

Muffled shouts rang out. "You've preyed on us too long!" cried the mob. "Go, go! Forget me, forget all of this! Go now go now and leave me!" yelled Erik, telling Raoul to leave with Christine….

In the morning, Christine knew something was wrong. She left the opera to see Erik- a cold, huddled lump on the ground. His body was concealed by his cape. Christine knelt and cried. When she lifted the cape, she saw nothing but his mask. The love story of the ghost was over- but Christine's was starting.

(And you know what? She sees a river.)

THE END