A/N: The following is just a light parody that spontaneously came to my mind after watching Charles Dance's Phantom last night (I must say I loved that version!). For the purpose of the story, the timeline of the different films does not apply and the Charles Dance one comes after all of them. I don't own Phantom, although technically no one does anymore, as the rights of the novel are now in the public domain. Still… I own only the crazy idea for this one-shot :) I'd like to state that I hold dear all Phantom versions I've seen, even if I make fun of them in the story :) I appreciate reviews, even if they are negative. Yes, really :)

Arthur Kopit sat at his desk, scratching his head absent-mindedly with the top of his pen. The words weren't cooperative today and he had achieved to write an entirety of ten lines. Pathetic. Simply pathetic.

Suddenly a gust of wind swept through the room and he looked up to see where it had come from. He gasped in shock as he saw a tall masked man standing in the corner. The stranger's lips were curled in an amused smile.

"Why so shocked, monsieur? Have you never seen a phantom? After all, your job right now is to write about one, isn't it?"

"W-what? W-who are you?"

"I'm Erik."

"Jeez, what have I eaten today? I'm hallucinating! Was it the scrambled eggs...?"

"Oh, no, I assure you, you're not hallucinating. I've come because you seem to need help. And, for once, I'd like to have a say in how I'm portrayed. While I don't mind too much being made into a supermodel with a mild skin irritation or a deranged rock singer with a perfectly good face and an unhealthy fondness of rats, I'd still prefer something more… mystical. Which leaves out rotten teeth, scary eyes and just a semblance of a nose. And no elderly musician with acid-scarred face and arthritis either, thank you very much!"

Arthur was scribbling down, part of his brain still trying to make sense out of it all.

"Right, well, mystical, got that, anything else you'd like, or rather, dislike?" he asked slightly acerbically.

"Well, since you ask… can I be the good guy for a change? You know, not good and deranged, but good and sad. Just for a change…?"

"Erm… no, sorry, the public likes their madman…"

"All right then," the masked man sighed sadly. "You really don't give me much choice, do you?" Suddenly the writer felt a noose tightening slowly around his neck. "How about if I ask in a… nicer… way?"

"Okay, right, got you… no need of violence, really! You'll be as gentle as a lamb! Can you remove the noose from my neck now, please?"

"Oh, fine, I didn't mean to use it, anyway… unless I really had no other choice. You know, I'm so tired of always being portrayed as the deranged monster… I want to do something very noble… like saving Christine's pup's life, for example… Oh, and… can you include a Pierrot mask somewhere?"

"Sure, that's a good idea actually… Both of them... How about the shape of the mask?"

"Make it… something that covers most of the face, so that you can see only the mouth. It adds to the mystery. And no showing my naked face at all. Give people a chance to use their imagination."

"Riiight, got that… Now, how about... we give you a loving mother, deceased when you were only a little boy, and a good but slightly misguided father who has just lost his job as the manager of the Opera to an extremely annoying Italian family?"

"Sounds good. Also... can Christine have a bit of spine, please? It's horrible to have to fall in love again and again with a spineless, whimpering creature who has to be backed in a corner to make her choices. Believe me, I should know! At least Monsieur Leroux gave her more credit than that. And if she could truly love me, at least a little..."

"Sure, sure… How about the Daroga? Do we get to use him?"

"Oh, no, he was never very fond of me. Leave him out of it."

"Fine, we'll have an Inspector Ledoux instead. But you'll have to die in the end, you know. That's always a good tear-jerker. It would be a very noble death, I promise."

"Oh, very well, if you have to… As long as it's noble..."

Arthur nodded vigorously as he was scribbling frantically, sheet after sheet filled with writing only he could read… at least he hoped he would be able to, as he was literally tripping over the letters in his haste to put them down.

"I think you've got the idea now, monsieur. You don't need me anymore…" There was another gust of wind and when Arthur looked around, he was alone in his room.

"Well… I've no idea what that was… but I ain't going to ask..." with that he went on writing fervently. Thus, a new Phantom was born. And he smiled a bittersweet smile.