A/N: In the hilarity that followed me posting that last chapter, I realize I forgot something in the Author's Note. To get a vague idea as to how I sound when singing POTO songs, I have posted three videos on youtube. You can either refer to my profile and scroll down to the bottom of it, or search YouTube for "A Capella POTO: Think of Me", "A Capella POTO: Phantom of the Opera", and "A Capella POTO: Wishing You Were Here Again". BUT NOT NOW! First read this chapter, and then do the searching! LOL Once again I own nothing!
"Alright, Erik, let's go." I finished my sandwich and headed for the kitchen.
"Go? Go where?" He eyed me suspiciously.
"The kitchen isn't going to clean itself, you know."
"You're right. It's not. Have fun!" He waved me away and sat down on the TV room couch.
"Oh no you don't. Ninety percent of that mess is all your fault. Move it!" I pulled him to his feet. Half-dragging him to the kitchen sink, I began running water into the dishpan.
"Look here, Mademoiselle. I'll have you know that I am the Phantom of the Opera, and the Phantom of the Opera DOES NOT DO DISHES!"
"Don't worry. I wouldn't want you to get my bathrobe all soapy." I walked over to the drawer and pulled out a dish towel.
"I was going to say..." Erik sighed with relief.
"That's why you're drying." I thrust the towel into his hands.
"Can't you just stick them in the dryer?" He whined.
"No, because first of all, the clothes are still in there, and secondly, the dryer is for clothes only." I started throwing dishes into the water. "Now you can either dry dishes or scrub the peanut butter off of the ceiling. Actually you're going to have to do that anyway, but it's up to you what you do first."
"What's the matter? Too short?" He smirked, resulting in me aiming the sprayer at his face. "Mademoiselle, I would rethink that move if I were you." He tried to sound threatening, but I saw his eyes widen behind the mask. Not one to back down from a water fight, I turned on the cold water and sprayed his bare feet. With a yelp, he jumped out of the line of fire. Rolling up his sleeves, a familiar almost-evil grin spread across his face. His next words confirmed where I had seen that grin before. "Now, let it be war between us both." Oh dear... Before I could even think of how to get out of this, Erik had taken the dishes out of the dishpan. Lifting it out of the sink, he threw me one more grin before dumping the contents all over my head.
"Oh, now you asked for it." I sputtered. I sprayed him again, but he held the dishpan up in front of himself as a shield. To my utter dismay, I realized that I was filling it for him, and with another grin, he soaked me once again. That did it. My bathrobe or not, that absolutely did it. And if I ruined the mask, so be it. I'd simply have Erik do another one for me. He moved past me to the sink and began filling the dishpan once again. Little did he know that as soon as I pressed the sprayer trigger, his source of water would be turned against him. Cue inward evil cackle.
After keeping the water on him for several minutes, he finally made his way close enough to yank the sprayer out of my hands. By now, it looked like he was wearing a drowned puppet, and just as predicted, the mask was now in pieces on the floor at his feet. He wasn't looking at it, however. Grasping me by the shoulders, he lifted me off of my feet. Grinning even wider, he placed me in the half-filled dishpan so that my rear was completely soaked even more than it already was. He blocked my escape route, not that I really could have gotten out of this with my legs as short as they are. We both knew what was coming, and yet he was dragging it out as long as possible. He took a few squirts at my feet, and then worked the sprayer up to my face. I merely closed my eyes and mouth, letting the water hit me non-stop for a good five minutes. Finally, he set the sprayer aside. Sputtering, I managed to respond with a "Thank you, Monsieur. The weather outside is stifling." I opened my eyes then, and saw that he was frowning at his feet. Following his gaze, I let out a huge laugh. In his attack, he had stepped onto the soaked mask, and now the plaster was hardening into odd-looking shoes. Being the nice person I am, I aimed the sprayer once again at his feet to rinse the plaster off. As soon as his feet were free, he jumped out of the puddle and went into the laundry room. I was still stuck in the sink, so I couldn't follow him to see what he was up to. Ten minutes later, he reappeared wearing his almost-dry shirt and pants. "You look very handsome, Erik, but did you forget something?" He looked puzzled at first, but as soon as he saw the expression on my face, he hurried to get me out of the sink. "Thank you. You're too kind." I said with thick sarcasm.
"Do we have a truce, Mademoiselle?"
"Fine. Truce. Now you get to clean everything off the ceiling while I go change." I started walking away, but then I felt raindrops falling on my head. Wha-? Turning, I saw he had aimed the sprayer at the ceiling. Feeling very stupidly bold, I grinned. "What's the matter, Monsieur? Too short to reach it yourself?" He didn't chase me, however. He merely aimed the sprayer a little lower, hitting me in the back as I ran out of the room. So much for that truce.
Don't ask how, but we were finally able to get the kitchen clean just before suppertime. We ended up having to toss out the mask remnants, but I made Erik promise to make me another one. It didn't take too long to convince him. He'd been about to protest from his position sprawled across the TV room couch, totally exhausted. "Tomorrow, Erik, don't worry. There's no time left today." Relief swept over him, but it didn't last long. "Right now, we're going out for supper."
"Out? Out where?" He made no effort to hide the panic in his voice and on his face.
"McDonalds." At that one single word, everyone seemed to emerge from every corner of the house, causing a thunderous stampede that caused Erik to try to hide under the couch. Adding onto the confusion was everyone shouting out their orders repeatedly. "Everybody hoosh!" I yelled, and as I did, Erik did manage to scramble under the couch. Ignoring him, I continued to address my siblings. "Look, we're all going, and I no longer work there, so there's no point in telling me your orders!"
"Mademoiselle, I do hope that by the term 'we', you are not including me..." the couch replied.
"Of course I mean you! I'm not about to recite the entire menu for you to choose from."
"You seem to be forgetting that I am without a mask."
"So we'll go through the drive thru. Now come on out of there!" Sheepishly, he emerged from his hiding spot.
As we made our way outside, I was thankful that Erik didn't ask me to explain the terms 'McDonalds' and 'drive thru'. He would find out soon enough, and 'soon enough' was here. As we got into the van, Erik stopped dead in his tracks. "Where are the horses?"
"What horses?" I grinned, thoroughly enjoying his confusion.
"The horses that pull the carriage, of course."
"We don't need any. This is a van, not a carriage. Now get in." Still completely confused, he got into the middle back seat. Susan and David sat next to him, and I took shotgun.
"Buckle up," Susan growled, pointing to the seatbelt.
"What for?" His voice was on the verge of being full of fear.
"Trust me." Without waiting for him to respond, Susan buckled him in with a satisfying 'click'.
"You dare to bind me to my seat?" he hissed. She said nothing, and the engine roared to life. Although I couldn't see him, I could clearly hear Erik scratching and straining against the seatbelt. "Let me out, woman! I've changed my mind! Just get me whatever you have!"
"Too late..." Hope spoke up as we pulled out of the driveway. He was silent until we reached the end of Langdon Street. The traffic was heavy on Highland Street, and Hope began tapping the wheel impatiently. "Clear?" She half-growled after about two minutes of waiting.
"If you zoom," I replied, immediately regretting that choice of words, because 'zoom' is precisely what she did. As we rounded the corner, I don't know what squealed at a higher pitch—the tires or Erik. All I know is he was digging his nails into the back of my seat so deep that I could actually feel it.
"Warning..." Hope said cheerfully, and Erik began muttering something about a Punjab.
At the drive thru, I was thankful that Erik was still buckled in, because I was positive that he would otherwise be pulling the speaker out of the ground and yelling into it. He ended up ordering a Big Mac out of complete curiosity, with a small root beer(I had to talk him out of yet another cup of coffee). After everyone had placed their orders, I decided on a Filet O' Fish and a chocolate shake.
We made it home with no incident, and as soon as Erik was free of the restraining seatbelt, he leapfrogged over David and fell to the ground. "Am I really that bad a driver?" Hope asked as she passed him.
"How on earth should I know?" Erik glared up at her. I finally convinced him to follow us inside, and while the others scattered with their meals, Erik and I sat at the dining room table. Just as I was about to take a bite, I heard Erik's voice. "Er...Sarah? Why is there bread in my sandwich?"
"All sandwiches have bread."
"Yes, but there's bread in the middle of mine."
"That's part of what makes a Big Mac what it is. Just eat it." The long day was catching up to my patience. The rest of the meal was silent, up until he took his first sip of the root beer(he had placed aside the lid and straw). He immediately began to cough, shoving the cup across the table. "Yes?" I asked ever so casually.
"The drink's gone bad."
"No, it's just carbonated. Just drink it and you'll get used to it." He then proceeded to drink the rest of the soda all in one sitting. This was followed by a loud burp. Through his nose.
"Pardon me-OW!" He rubbed his nose.
"Pardon meow? The cats did nothing." I smirked.
"You did that on purpose."
"It was your choice to chug it," I shrugged.
That evening, Susan joined Erik and I in the TV room for our game shows. Erik took over my dad's reclining power-lift chair, although he frowned at the fact that it was tilted forward. Seeing his face, I showed him the controls before turning my attention to the TV. The next thing I heard was not "Jeopardy", but a high-pitched yelp. Glancing in Erik's direction, Susan and I were soon rolling around on the floor, laughing our heads off. We couldn't help it. Erik had reclined the chair so far back that his feet were high up in the air and his head was almost to the floor. He was now flailing around, sliding backwards and kicking wildly. "Help?" he finally pleaded. Still giggling breathlessly, I crawled over on my knees, grabbed the controls, and soon had Erik in a comfortable position.
"Jeopardy" started then, and as the first category turned out to be "Operas", Erik leaned forward in interest. We soon had a heated competition going on amongst us, never mind the actual contestants. Erik smirked whenever he got an answer right that we had no idea about, but whenever we were right, he looked as though he was about to throw us through the screen. "Wheel of Fortune" was pretty much the same, only Erik beat us ninety-nine percent of the time, regardless of whether or not he understood the phrase.
Afterward, while Susan stayed to watch an episode of "Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman" on DVD, Erik and I decided to call it a night. I led him to the bedroom that David never uses, and after tiredly mumbling little more than a simple good night, I continued to my own room.
A/N: More to come soon! Thanks in advance for the feedback! :)