Part Four: Let the Feathers Fly

My darling Firmin,

I shall look for you tonight under the stars and splendid fireworks. Do try not to injure your girl with those ram's horns.

Forever yours,
Andre

My dearest Andre,

I shall wander through the chaotic darkness, searching for the rooster-head that is the only thing that can calm the raging flame in me. Shall we slip away to dance in private later, my precious one?

Fed up with waiting,
Firmin

P.S: My girl's prettier than yours.

My sweet Carlotta,

I must beg you to stuff your boobs into your Masquerade dress more securely. They are falling out.

Yours for eternity,
Piangi

Mlle. de Dressmaker,

As requested, please alter the neckline of my white Masquerade gown. If I can't get a man by being of a normal height, at least let me get him with my generous boobs.

Best,
Meg Giry

Dear Alexandra Byrne,

As the costume designer for The Phantom of the Opera, I expected you to have a little more taste for what is decent to wear compared to what is embarrassing. So how did that ridiculous obese-cow costume end up in the mix? When I wear it I have no visible neck and everything below my supposed neck area is grossly enlarged in an irregular black and white checkerboard pattern. And if Gerard Butler gets hot in his suits as the Phantom, thank God he's not dancing in this. I am done with being laughed at behind my back. I hereby demand my full salary at once and will leave this project immediately as soon as I find a flight out of the UK. Rest assured that I will never again get involved in another movie where you are the costume designer. Others have the luxury to boo, but because of that idiotic cow costume and how people now address me as "the fat-cow guy", I'm forced to moo instead. But I do it with plenty of gusto. MOOOOOOOOOO!

Get out of my life,
An Angry Extra

To the AV Monsieurs and Confetti Scatterers,

I will make my grand entrance at the masquerade ball exactly sixty-six minutes after it begins. I respectfully request that at that moment, the confetti ceases to fall and that, most importantly, the lights be dimmed dramatically. Do not forget to play my chromatic six-note theme song. Should these commands be ignored, you shall find your strangled wives at home with their heads in the chamber pot. Bwahaha!

Your devilish servant,
O. G.

Gerard Butler,

Please close your mouth in those last few shots just before you and Emmy meet each other on the staircase in "Why So Silent". You look like an idiot when your mouth dangles open like that.

Your boss and the one who pays you,
Joel Schumacher

Mr. Schumacher,

If you noticed, in all the of the Phangirls' favorite shots and promotional stills of this movie, my mouth is almost never closed. And that's why they love me so much as the Phantom. If I do look like an idiot in said staircase scene, at least I'm an idiot with sexy black eyeliner on. Which gets the girls, which gets more DVD and Blu-Ray sales. Try and argue against that.

Respectfully,
Gerry Butler

Monsieur Butler,

I find your insistence on calling me "the Phantom" both incorrect and highly irritating. As I informed our director, my real and correct name is ERIK. Learn it, use it.

Your fed-up servant,
O. G.

P.S: I can swish the ol' cape better than you on any given day.

The Vicomte de Chagny,

Despite the fact that you are a high-born aristocrat and have surely studied all the gentlemen's arts at some point, your swordsmanship is a huge joke. So huge, in fact, it made me laugh after Madame Giry rescued you from what was supposed to be my torture chamber in the original book. And as you may have figured out, I haven't laughed in an extremely long time. So thank you. By the way, you will find that over the past half-hour, a great deal of your hair products have mysteriously disappeared, never to be found again. Bwahahahaaa!

Your ROFLing servant,
O. G.

P.S: Just in case you were wondering, you still suck.

My precious Christine,

I shall stand guard outside your bedroom tonight to chase away bad dreams, including those of a certain dark-haired, green-eyed man with extraordinary cape-swishing skills that aspires to kidnap you. Again.

Your fiancé,
Raoul

My sweet Raoul,

Thank you, but that would not be necessary. I know my Angel—he will not come to me, he waits for me to approach him. Planning to meet him very early tomorrow morning to get enthralled all over again. See you!

Your soon-to-be gone love,
Christine

Note to self—

Be more subtle about plans for getting Christine, because she's somehow found you out twice. Which won't do for a mysterious ghost, oui?

–Erik

Monsieur Schumacher,

Is it really reasonable that the Vicomte de Chagny departs the Opera Populaire mere moments after Christine and I do, yet arrives at the cemetery a full five minutes after she does? Well, a strange occurrence, but one applauded by me, as it only makes the Vicomte look more stupid.

Your celebratory servant,
O. G.

P.S: I hope he got lost along the way.

Father,

Wishing you were somehow here again…because I'm just so needy like that. Nine years have passed, father, and I'm falling in love…where did you go?

Your grieving daughter,
Christine

P.S: The Angel of Music came to me, just like you promised. He is a creeper, a killer and a very angry man with a sword, but he is also very sexy. He says hi.

The Vicomte de Chagny,

Say what you like, but I as good as won that duel we had in the cemetery today. At the very least, my go-ahead-and-kill-me pose on my back in the snow made devoted Phangirls like Amorai swoon. Can you say the same, Poodle Boy?

Your smirking servant,
O. G.

P.S: How's the cut on your arm?

P.P.S: I hope it festers. A lot.

My angelic Christine,

Thank you for sparing my life in the cemetery. Now go and prepare yourself for a night of thinly-veiled metaphors, barely-scary prosthetics and 2.2 tons of crystal and metal falling from the ceiling, since Monsieur Schumacher refused to change his mind about the crash happening in Act II.

Your slightly-insane Angel,
Erik

P.S: No, I do not forgive you.