Okay, this is really random, but I decided to just try out a random poto story, and see where it goes! Plus, I was just bored.
Okay, so it's actually pretty dumb, to be honest. It's not HILARIOUS (in my own opinion), but, if you wish to risk it, go ahead and read. Though you may be disappointed. . .It ain't no Honey Badger story!. . .Just sayin!
WARNING: I have made most of the characters OOC (Out Of Character)! They're. . .Immature and dumb.
I do not own the Phantom of the Opera!
Enjoy!
. . .
Erik wandered above the stage, in the rafters, watching everyone rehearse on stage.
Oh Christine, you deserve more fame than everyone else here. You deserve it much more than that toad, Carlotta. Erik thought to himself. He cringed when he heard the toad wail horribly down stairs.
ARGH! That is the last straw! He couldn't take it any longer. Screw this! His mind screamed as he unraveled the rope that held up the prop. Once it was undone, it came crashing down, quickly followed by frightened shrieks by Carlotta. He stuck his tongue out at her like a small child before quickly hiding in the shadows again.
Erik could hear the managers blaming Bouquet for it all being his fault. Erik smirked. Idiots. He thought.
"I swear, I wasn't at my post!" Buquet pleaded, as he lifted the prop from above. "There's no one here! But if there is. . ." He added in, in a sarcastic tone. "Well then, it must be a ghost!" He teased.
Erik rolled his eyes. People were so stupid. "No it was your mom." Erik bellowed from the rafters. Erik couldn't suppress a wide grin from breaking out across his cheeks as he watched everyone down stairs look around frightened.
"Who was that?" A frightened ballerina asked. My, my, this was all too much fun for Erik.
"It was your mom." He added in. He felt his smile return when they continued to look around, afraid. They were nearly trembling.
"Th-There it is again! I-I think it's the Phantom!" Another ballerina stuttered, over dramatically.
". . .Nope, I'm pretty sure it was your mom."
They were all practically trembling in fear. Erik rolled his eyes a bit. They were so mellow-dramatic. What was this? A silent film? Why couldn't anyone just take things more easily? They acted as though hearing a random voice from above was something to be afraid of. It's not like he was threatening anything. . .At the moment. . .
"Eh-a! I neva said-a that-a you could-a all stop-a dancing!" Carlotta shrieked. "Peeeek it back up-a! Let-a meya sing! Everybody be quiet!"
Erik could feel his blood boiling at the fact that that cow was still trying to sing. . .Let alone speak. How could one even understand her? He shook his head. He knew that he had to do something about this.
But what? He thought.
He knew that he had to come up with something quick. Looking around, he spotted a boom-box sitting nearby. He hastily went over to it, and hit the play button, and cranking up the volume, not caring what was in it. Anything was better than listening to Carlotta croak, screech and yodel down from below.
"Why is there a boom-box?" Erik muttered to himself, baffled. "Boom-boxes are sooo old. . .Ipods are sooo much cooler!" Erik said sarcastically, mimicking a teenage girl. He rolled his eyes, and waited for whatever it was that was in the boom-box, to begin.
As if on cue, the boom-box began to play. Erik nearly laughed in delight at how much the song practically matched up Carlotta's personality.
"Material Girl by Madonna? Really? That's just perfect. I hope the toad likes it." Erik looked down at everyone on stage as the music played. Everyone began to look around confused, and Carlotta abruptly stopped singing. She began to fuming angrily.
"What-a is the meaning-a of this?!" She shrieked. "Get it ta stop-a!"
Everyone on stage didn't seem to know what to do, which only provoked Carlotta even worse. Erik only smirked. He then decided to see what else was on the CD. It must had been a mix CD, because when he pressed the next button, rap started playing. His pupils shrunk in horror, and his hands clamp over his ears.
"Oh, gosh, this is the worst thing that I've ever heard in my entire life!" He shrieked. Unable to take the sound that was coming from the boom-box any longer, he held it high above his head, before hurling it down towards the stage.
It seemed as though the crash down below had a more lovely sound than what had been previously been playing had. Just by sheer luck, the boom-box landed right on Carlotta. Erik clamped his hand over his mouth, at first in shock, but then to stifle his laughter. He then decided, Why should I even bother containing my laughter? It would humiliate Carlotta, after all. . .That is, if she's still alive.
He allowed his belly laughter to be heard from all around. He crawled to the edge to look down at the stage again. Carlotta was still alive, believe it or not. But since she was still alive, he decided to speak his mind.
"That was hilarious! That boom-box got you good, bitch!" I hope that that damn boom-box got her to shut the hell up, because if it didn't, by all means, I will find more things to throw! I'll throw more shit at her if I have to! All I need is freaking watermelon. Erik thought, deviously. I'd love to see that explode over her! Who wouldn't make their day to see that?
Erik could hear all of the ballerinas whispering his name from all around.
"Yep! That's me! You better freaking believe that I'm real! Look up, morons!"
Once he said that, everyone glanced up. He then realized that he was wearing all black, and they probably didn't even see him. He face-palmed, realizing that he probably blended right in with the shadows. The only thing that popped out was his mask, but who would be able to see it through the blinding chandler?
"Does it make me stupid to have forgotten that I was wearing black, or does it make them stupid for not seeing me. . ?" Erik pondered. After a moment of debating, he then said, "I'll just say that they're the ones who are stupid."
After hanging around the rafters for a little while longer, Erik grew utterly bored. He decided to head back to the lair. He couldn't help but feel that he was forgetting something, but he brushed it off, and continued on his way back to his lair.
. . .
"Well. . .I'm bored." Erik complained to himself as he sat on the bench by the organ. His cat Ayesha jumped up next to him, greeting him with soft purrs.
"Oh, hello, darling." Erik cooed to the feline. "Are you hungry? I could get you some Meow Mix." He said in a baby voice, as he rubbed her chin. She purred, with half closed eyes. Before he could get her any cat food, foot-steps caught his attention. No one had ever gotten down this far into his lair without falling for a trap, or personally being killed by the Phantom himself.
Ayesha hissed at the new presence, and jumped down from the bench with her tail swishing low to the ground. He whirled around, looking for the intruder. He already had the Punjab lasso and everything, but froze when he realized that it was Christine.
"Christine?" Erik bellowed, utterly shocked. He then realized that he was gripping the Punjab lasso tightly in his hands, and he hastily tossed it aside to avoid any questions from Christine about it. He quickly remembered that to her, he was the Angel of Music.
"Christine," Erik started in a smoother, gentle tone. "What are you doing here? How did you get here?"
Christine looked around his home, obviously amazed.
"I. . .I just used the mirror. . .Are you my Angel of Music?" She asked in wonder as she met his gaze. Erik chuckled at her question.
"No, Child. I am the tooth fairy." He said sarcastically. He was about to laugh again, but stopped when he saw that she stared at him blankly, almost in an awe like manner. Horror took over him for a moment as he thought, She believes me?! Oh gosh, am I really in love with an idiot?! Instead, he shook his head, trying to forget that any of it had happened.
"No, I am your Angel of Music." He acknowledged. Christine lit up with a smile.
"I knew that one day I would find you."
Erik merely nodded. He felt a little odd that she was here, since he wasn't expecting her company at all. . .Nor anyone else's. He had wanted to bring her here by singing to her, but now those plans were ruined. He would just have to try something else.
"Would you like me to play with my organ?" He suddenly asked.
Christine's eyes suddenly grew utterly shocked. She looked a little horrified, but instead, she began to giggle.
"Your organ?" She echoed. "Um. . .What kind of organ, exactly?" She asked. A smirk stretched out across her face, and her cheeks turned bright red. Erik furrowed his eyebrows at her in a confused manner. The organ. He thought. How confusing is that?
"The organ. . .The pipe organ right here." He said to her slowly as he gestured to the pipe organ next to him. A look of relief came across Christine's face.
"Oh, that organ." She said, as she did her best attempt to stifle her giggles. Erik gave her a wary look, clearly not understanding the joke that flew right over his head. After a moment, he shook his head a little, not able to fathom the reason why she found the organ to be so funny.
"Yes, well. . .Would you like me to play the organ? Or would you rather do something else?" At first Christine thought that maybe he was being suggestive, but the honest look in his eyes quickly made her choke down a laugh before she would regret anything. She thought for a moment before she glanced around his lair.
"Well. . ." She mused. "Perhaps we could have a sleep over!" She cried, gleefully. She meant it to be sarcastic, toying to see just how he would react to that. His eyes grew wide, almost in a horrified expression – exactly what she expected. She bit her lip, trying to keep her girly giggles under control.
"I. . .I – wait, what?" He said, a bit flustered. "What exactly would we do during this, 'sleep over"'?" He inquired.
"We could do lots of things! We could order pizza, paint our nails, chat, tell scary stories!" She sat down on the ground next to him, rocking back and forth in an excited manner. It was odd to him how one moment she was normal, and the next, acting giddy like a child. He blinked in confusion, wondering why these things seemed so exciting. To him, he liked passing time playing the organ and playing tricks on others. . .What was so joyful about 'chatting"' or being a girl? He only knew that he wasn't a girl, and sure the hell didn't plan on acting like one. . .That was the fop's job to do that. . .
"I don't know. . ." He said, looking pained by the idea of it. Christine's lips twisted down in a frown, and she forced tears to glisten in her brown doe eyes.
"But – but. . .You don't want to?" She squeaked, looking crushed. Erik instantly regretted that he turned down her suggestion. He loved Christine, and he did not want to make a bad impression on her. He wanted to show her that he was caring, even though he usually wasn't.
"Alright, alright. . ." He sighed, defeated.
Life sprang back to Christine's eyes, and she looked joyful like a young school girl all over again.
"Yay!" She cried, happily. "Alright, what do you wanna do first? Ooh! We could order pizza, and afterwards we could paint our nails!"
Erik was about to say that he wouldn't be willing to paint his nails (nor would he EVER), but he instantly cringed upon the thought of ordering pizza.
"I don't think we can order pizza. . ." He began, uneasily.
"Why?"
"Well. . .Last time I ordered pizza, the pizza guy sorta, kinda, fell for one of my traps. . .And died. . ." His voice painfully trailed off in the end. Christine wanted to ask just how he died in these traps, but decided not to bother him.
"Oh. . .Well, what else did you want to do?"
Erik thought for a moment. Each suggestion that she brought up was not very appealing to Erik at all. They were things that girls liked, and perhaps Raoul, but they were things that guys certainly didn't find even remotely interesting. . .Perhaps the pizza sounded nice, or possibly telling scary stories, but everything else sounded ridiculous to Erik. . .And hopefully to most guys.
To Erik, Raoul didn't even count as a guy. . .He was like a girl, but definitely not an attractive girl that Erik would ever be interested in. The very thought of him being a girl amused Erik, but scared him at the same time. It made Erik shiver in disgust.
Something to do. . .Erik pondered.
"Well. . .I could always sing to you." Erik suggested. "Or you could sing. . .Or both of us could!" He could feel excitement bubbling up inside of him like he was a child, himself. Christine gave him a funky look.
"Singing? Is that all you do around here?"
Erik felt crushed to hear that.
"No. . .What, do you not like our singing lessons?" He inquired, warily.
"No, but it gets boring after a while." She simply stated. She said it as though it was nothing, but to Erik, it felt like an insult. He clearly looked offended.
"Boring?!" He shrieked. "How is that boring?!" Christine winced slightly at the volume of his voice. His voice echoed all throughout the lair, but even then, she managed to look a little amused, which only confused Erik even more. He couldn't fathom what it was that Christine suddenly found so funny.
"Like I said," Christine began. "It gets boring after a while when all we ever do is sing."
Erik's mouth was hanging open, in pure shock. He had never heard anything so ridiculous. Christine seemed to not notice Erik's shocked expression as she looked around his home. She wandered around like a little kid, before he heard a girly shriek come from Christine.
"Ooh, my gosh! How precious!" She gushed. " You have little dolls!"
Erik's senses went on high security alert when he heard those words. He sprang up from the organ bench, and hastily came over. There, he saw Christine picking up the dolls that had been carefully placed on the mini stage of the theater.
"Awwww, they're so cute!" She squealed, picking up the one that looked like her. Erik's heart was racing in panic, and he felt his skin heat up in sheer embarrassment.
At least she's not frightened by them. . .He thought, gruffly. Erik then glanced over when Christine picked up the Raoul zoodoo that was lying off to the side. The doll had needles pierced all throughout its body. Erik's eyes grew once more in panic, knowing that it would probably make her feel uneasy to imagine her lover being stabbed with various needles.
"Umm. . .What. . .Is. . .Is this Raoul?" She inquired as she timidly studied it.
"I-I can explain!" Erik stuttered frantically. Although before fear could set in her brown doe eyes, her eyes twinkled, a smile suddenly spread across her cheeks. Erik froze. This was not anything like the Christine he knew.
"That's funny." She giggled.
Afraid to ruin her merry state, and afraid to disappoint her, Erik gave in. . .Which meant stooping down lower than he ever had before in his life. He had light shinning in his dark life for once, and he didn't want to lose that precious light that could all too easily fade away.
Trying to muster up some courage, Erik reluctantly squeaked out the one thing that felt as though it would be the death of him. "You. . .You mentioned painting our nails, earlier?"
. . .
I really don't know if I'll continue this story or not. I guess it just depends on the reviews I get. If a bunch of people want an update, then I'll add on. But, until then, bye bye!