Everyone! This will be my last update before Christmas!! I know everyone's probably on break, but that's okay! Have a Merry Christmas!
Random idea of the day: I thought that the institution: "Fops For Life Association" was very catchy. A fic about Raoul in an association with all fops is very amusing. I dont' know if I'll ever write about it, but someone else might. You just have to ask me for permission, first, and if I let you use the idea, I'd like the credit. Anyways, it's just a silly random idea, but sounds funny.
Thanks to all who reviewed!! Longer chapter!!
Chapter Ten: Project: Not Quite Dead Stagehand
Disclaimer: If I owned POTO, why would I be writing fanfics? I'd just redo it so Chris ended up with Erik, and Raoul was... well, DEAD! Mwa ha ha... I also don't own Monty Python or Coca-Cola. Or the Verizon wireless commercial. Or is it Sprint? Well, if it is, I don't own that commercial, either.
Carlotta glared at Christine. "Your part is silent, leetle toad!" she hissed furiously before storming off and getting her mouth spray.
"Chris ain't no toad, woman!" Erik shouted down from the ceiling, staring down coldly at the diva.
Everyone became silent, trying to figure out what the heck was going on.
"I want to go," a duchess complained, standing up. Her husband quickly pulled her back down, hissing, "Sit down! There may be a dinner afterwards."
Carlotta was oblivious to the whole affair as her frightened maid accidentally shook the Coke bottle and began to twist the cap open.
"DOOON'T!!" Meg and Christine shrieked, lunging simultaneously for the bottle.
KA-SPRITZ! The bottle whooshed open, and a ton of nasty smelling (and tasting) Coca-Cola came spraying out right into Carlotta's face and mouth, appearing to be a mini Old Faithful geyser.
Cart blinked, the Coke dripping down her face. The maid paled, slowly stepping back cautiously, ready for another temper tantrum. Meg and Christine were trying to control their laughter.
"WHY YOU ALWAYS SPRAY IT A ON MY A CHIN!!?" Carlotta screamed, growing red in the face.
The maid quickly grabbed a cloth and began to wipe her off furiously. "I'm sorry, mademoiselle, really, I am," she began to apologize.
Cart swished off, trying to pull herself together. She hurried back onstage, and Reyer started the music again. The diva then resumed her horrible screeching. "You cannot a speak a, but kees me in my… QUAAACK!"
The audience and cast members stared, and Chris began to snicker. Then Meg followed. Soon, everyone was laughing, except for Raoul, who was too busy straightening his outfit.
Cart gulped and tried again. "Pooor fool he makes me laugh, a ha ha ha ha! Ah ha QUAAACK! QUAAAACK!" Screaming, she bolted offstage, while everyone was giggling loudly.
Erik, however, was exceedingly glum. "It was supposed to make her sound like an ELEPHANT!" he hollered, stomping his foot on the ground.
The managers quickly ran onto the stage and began spluttering out nonsense. "Uh… um… the b-ballet from act five!" Andre nervously ordered Reyer, who stared at him, confused.
"THREE, SIR!" a random stagehand called out, peeping out from behind the curtain.
"Three!" Firmin corrected, glaring daggers at Andre, who shrugged sheepishly.
Christine was rushed backstage to change her outfit, smirking happily. When she reached her dressing room, Mme Giry shut the door and began helping her to change into the dress.
"Do I have to wear that awful headdress?" Christine whined, putting her hands delicately on her hips and eying the thing distastefully.
Mme Giry opened her mouth, ready to say: 'Yes, so stop your complaining or I'll send you to live the gypsies, you brat!' but was interrupted by a familiar bleeping of the Nextel. "Giry to OG, what's up?" she asked, ignoring Christine's bewildered look.
"OG to Giry, Subject: Leering Stagehand is beginning to follow me. I can't shake him! Frankly, I'm quite annoyed with his – AAAAACK! STUPID TERRIBLE EVIL PSYCHOPATHIC ABYSMAL BLOODY BLASTED DOORSTOPS!! I THOUGHT THERE WERE GOTTEN RID OF, BUT NOOOOOO! NO ONE listens to little old me! I'm only the bloody Phantom of the Opera!! Those (bleepity) managers didn't obey my orders!"
"Are you finished now?" Mme Giry questioned calmly.
Christine's mouth hung agape like a freshly hooked fish.
"Yeah," Erik returned sulkily, "I'm done."
"Good," Giry replied, "Because I have Subject: Singing Angel with me right now, and she's been listening to every word that's come out of your mouth ever since this conversation began."
Silence. Christine could almost hear the crickets chirping.
"Oh. Oh man… I was on speaker? Oh no…" Erik's voice deflated like a popped balloon.
Mme Giry rolled her eyes. "So, you wanna get rid of this Buquet guy, right?"
"Yeah," Erik replied. "Uh, hey, honey!" he called out to Christine.
Christine grabbed the Nextel from Giry, much to the older woman's annoyance. "Hey, hotness! How's life?"
"Better, now dat I'm talkin' to the most beautiful girl in da world," Erik answered smoothly.
"Aw, that's sweet," she giggled. Mme Giry tapped her foot in impatience, wanting her Nextel back.
"It's just nice to know that I'm da only man in yo' life," Erik continued on, grinning. He waited for a reply. There was none. "Hon? Chris? Christine?"
Christine had indeed replied, but the call was dropped. "Hey, what's wrong with this thing?" she complained, banging it on a desk. Mme Giry whisked it away from her.
"That's my Nextel cell phone, girl!" she hissed, "The call must have been dropped. I knew I shoulda switched to Verizon… but anyways," she picked up her walkie-talkie, "I'll just use this from now on. I must have forgotten to turn it on, and Erik picked up on my cell phone instead of the walkie-talkie. I may have to switch to a different frequency."
Chris blinked.
Meanwhile, Erik was getting worried. "I am da only man in yo' life, right?" he was panicking. "Hello? Christine? Christine?" Growing angry, he picked up a random doorstop (the fifth one he'd found in the last three minutes) and hurled it in a direction.
BONK!
"UUFF!" The doorstop had hid Buquet, and the pot-bellied stagehand toppled off the catwalk, dropping to the floor, apparently dead.
Everyone screamed, backing away from the body. Erik groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes. Why did this always happen to him? He grabbed his laptop and hurried to one of his secret spots, ordering a husky for himself and Christine, along with some cows, a few Siberian tigers, and some camels from Persia. The elephant was on back order from Africa, and wouldn't come for another few weeks. But hey, that would give him plenty of time to find a big piece of land.
Christine and Mme Giry had heard the commotion outside and hurried out to find Buquet's body on the stage, the girls screaming, the audience whispering, and the managers coming up with pathetic excuses.
"It was the Phantom!" one of the girls screamed, trembling. The others nodded and agreed with her.
Reyer promptly fainted dead away, and the musicians stared at him.
Mme Giry didn't care that Buquet had died, since she'd never liked him, anyways, so she marched onstage. "Everyone!" she cried, and everybody stopped to listen to her. "This is supposed to be a happy occasion! Come now! Let's not argue and bicker about who killed who. We are here today to witness the wonderful opera of 'Il Muto'! Sadly, one of the stagehands, Joseph Buquet, has had an ACCIDENT," she glared pointedly at the ballet girls, "and has fallen to his death. But I don't want to think of it as losing a stagehand… so much as… gained a new diva!"
The audience politely clapped at that, and Christine bowed, grinning.
"For, since the tragic death of Buquet…" Giry began.
Meg sauntered up to the body and felt for a pulse. "He's not quite dead!" She announced.
Giry sighed in irritation. "Since the near fatal wounding of Buquet…" she continued.
"He's getting better!" Meg interrupted, seeing the man's eyes slowly open.
No one noticed Erik creep up behind Meg and Buquet except for Mme Giry and Christine, who watched in fascinated anticipation.
"For, since Buquet, when he seemed to recover, suddenly felt the icy hand of death upon him!" Mme Giry declared, and Erik whacked Buquet on the back of the head, causing the stagehand to slump over.
"He's dead!" Meg called out.
Erik quickly slinked away and hurried down to his lair, NOT CELLAR, and finish the new tune he'd been working on. "No one woul' listen, yo! No one bu' her, yo, hear' as da ou'cast heahs, yo!" he began to softly rap. Thinking of how catchy a tune it would be, he decided to finish it once he got back down to his home. Oh, wouldn't Chris be pleased!
Raoul had run downstairs from Box Five, and leapt… or tripped… over to Christine, who was still staring at the spot where Erik had been. "Christine, we're not safe here!" he whimpered pitifully, and dragged her all the way up to the roof, which overlooked Paris.
Very fun! Have a Merry and Phantastic Christmas, everyone!
Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.