Woo! Look at me! I'm on an updating streak! Yet none of my favorites are updating! (Sings) Shame, shame, shame!
Anyway, here is the next chapter. This one does something none of the other chapters have ever done. Prepare to be annoyed! Or entertained. Whatever floats your boat! Unless you don't have a boat. In which case, I suggest you get one. And while you're there, get me one too...
I see a lot of you are unhappy about the return of Stella. Trust me reviewers! She IS an important character. Stupid, yes. Irritating, yes. Nowhere near competition for the awesomely great Winanona aka Ann (whom Willow Rose has been kind enough to lend me), yes. But she's nonetheless important. You shall see! And don't worry. In this story, everyone will get what they deserve... (Evil laughter)
Reviewer replies! Now!
Nyanza: Don't worry. As mentioned above, everything will have a purpose in time... or at least I hope so.
Eriks leadinglady: Thank you! Here's an update, just like you asked.
Erik for President: I try! But really, sometimes parts of the story I meant to be dramatic come out funny.
Zimmer: Ooh... I feel your pain. The same thing's going to happen to me. Ouch... (Gives you Phantom plushie) Feel better soon!
Miss Christine Daae: AHAHAHA! I can't tell yo how many times the same thing happens to me. Take a break from homework, get hooked to a story, remeber five hours later that yo were doing homework.
Wandering Child 24: Thak you for asking. It's great to know your absence is felt.
Misty Breyer: Yeah, I can't dance either. I still do sometimes, but its not a pretty sight! Ah well. If anything, you can always throw the confetti in the spectators' eyes. Taht'll keep them busy long enough to finish your hobbit dance!
musicallover: NO! Don't die on me? What have I done? Is this consideredmurder? Will I be aquitted? I'm to young! My unblemished record, ruined! Ahh! What's that? You were just kidding? Oh... okay then... I knew that. (Shifty-eyed)
Tsunami Wave: Boggled, you say? Then my job is done.
LoverofBalto: What IS a kid like him to do? (Sigh) If only modern medicine could guarantee having a kid like him... Hmm, there's always cloning.
Mlle. Opera Ghost: Well, Stella (shrieking) can be quite a nuisance. But Stella (shrieking) can also be a blessing! If Stella (shrieking) acts as competition, perhaps Little Erik will find another, more worthy girl paying more attention to him. ... Stella! (Shrieking) Hee hee, that is so COOL.
miss phantom28: Anytime. If you would like another, just send in an idea and a name! Maybe you could get a song too.
Phantomsecretlove: I know! Have you ever seen anything so rediculous in all your life?
YoukoElfMaiden: I do too! And the Rent movie is coming out! AHH! Yes, the second half is depressing in some ways. Yet at the very end I always get this feeling of hope and triumph above all else and (alarm goes off) Oh sorry, went off on a tangent there. Hmm, I wonder what the Jarmaica flag would look like?
Willow Rose: We DON'T want Stella flying out of the windows? Aww... (Puts away popcorn) Oh, alright. I'll just have to think up something else, won't I?
Episode 19
And so for the next few days, Little Erik worked nonstop on his opera. During this time Stella came on an almost daily basis, having been cast for the lead part, which is strange considering the lead part hadn't been written yet.
Hey! No pointing out plot holes!
Right, sorry Authoress. Oh, you're probably wondering who I am. I am the newly appointednarrator. You see, giving complete insight into a certain character's mind requires effort. And being a teenager, the authoress does not like putting in effort when it can be avoided.. ANY effort whatsoever.
No criticizing me you ungrateful fairy!
I mean—she is an extremely busy person, being as talented and hard-working as she is, and thus was in need of a helping hand. So she hired me (cough-pulledmeoutofhercloset-cough) to narrate. I do have a rather charming voice and am perfect for the part, don't you agree? Oh, how clever of the Authoress to cast me!
That's better. Now get on with it.
Anyway, Little Erik was so absorbed in his Opera and in coaching Stella to perfect her, as of yet unwritten, role, that he hardly had the time to even acknowledge anyone else's presence. Normally Meg would've objected to this behavior, but she was still too shocked about her whole encounter with the Phantom to actually pay attention. Willow and Misty spent most of their time in their 'secret base', which was really just a tent they had pitched up in the middle of the hallway, plotting and giggling over whatever random thing caught their fancy.
This left, of course, on little girl very alone and very unhappy. Winanona, or Ann as she was called, spent most of her time scribbling gory sketches of Stella's demise and posting the colorful pictures on the fridge for the world to see. Whenever her pencils broke or she ran out of paper, she would stop and sulk instead. Little Erik seemed to have forgotten her and that connection they had briefly shared. She even began to doubt they had ever shared anything at all, and that she had just imagined it. Still, a small part of her cried out to fight for what she believed in and to destroy Stella because all of you hate her anyway.
Stop acknowledging the readers! It breaks suspended belief. It's like a reality check with a side of sugar! Sweet but, well… realistic. Did you forget everything I taught you at orientation?
No. Hold on! I'm new at this! Usually I'm the one being narrated about. Just give me a while to get the hang of this.
Moving on then.
So engrossed was little Erik in his project, that when Willow slipped some broccoli into his egg salad sandwiches, he not only didn't complain but actually complimented her for the added texture! Eh? Eh? Now that's exemplary narrating!
I… no, just forget it. Go on. I think my interruptions are only making things worst. Just… try your best for a while. I'm gonna go get a snack. And try not to fight with your roommate while I'm gone, k?
Okay. So some more time passed. Blah, blah, blah… Miscellaneous stuff. Where's all the action…? Oh, here's a good scene! By some miracle, or another plot device, Little Erik finished his Opera in only a month's time! It was time for phase two of Winanona's brilliant plan: inviting the audience.
Misty was given the task of delivering the invitation to the de Chagny residence. She skipped up the steps, two by two, then ran back down so she could skip up them again, but this time three by three. This went on for quite a while until, upon reaching nines by nines, Misty missed and fell flat on her face.
The sound alerted the butler who opened the door and stared at the girl with a fright. "Are you alright Mademoiselle?" he asked, concerned.
"Hmm? Oh fine." Misty said, dusting herself as if nothing had happened. "I do that at least four times a day anyway. Do you think it will rain?"
The butler, Barbadwa or whatever, began closing the door and backing away. But the girl stomped her foot in the doorway, grinning mischievously. "Wait! You, sir, have a letter!" She said.
"For me?"
"No, actually. That was inaccurate. It's for Monsieur and Madame de Chagny. Are they here?" Misty said, nonchalantly peeking inside.
"No. They are out taking young master Philippe to his interpretive dance classes. Why?"
"Why? Because they've just been invited to the most AMAZING event of the year! The one Opera, TO RULE THEM ALL!" Misty said elatedly, jumping up and down in excitement.
The butler, I won't say his name because I can't spell it, only stared as Misty shoved an envelope in his front jacket pocket and proceeded to skip down the steps twelve at a time, which was quite a feat since there were only ten steps in front of the de Chagny home.
Meanwhile, Willow was trying to prevent Meg from going into a state of shock.
"But why ME?" Meg cried.
"Because you're the only one who knows how to get down there on your own." Willow reasoned.
"He'll kill me!" Meg ranted. "I've already invaded his privacy on multiple occasions! It's a miracle I stand before you now! Please, send someone else! Or don't invite him at all! At least you won't have to worry about your chandelier crashing or the lead singer being kidnapped!"
The conversation went on for longer than I care to say, but let's just say that there's only one question you should be asking yourself as I proceed. Will Meg return to the Opera Ghost's lair for a final time before Little Erik's Opera premiers?
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Yes, yes she will.
It was dark, damp, depressing, everything Meg remembered it being. The shadows danced around Meg Giry, as if mocking her as she descended into darkness. An unusually icy draft seemed to have been trapped in the tunnels that day, almost like a portent of bad things to come. The former ballerina shivered at the thought but continued on bravely. This is not to say she wasn't scared. She was terrified. A point came when Meg even began wishing for music to play and for random lyrics to pour from her throat. At least then there would be a comforting sound, as her unsure footsteps were poor company.
Slipping, fumbling, Meg searched for the boat at the edge of the lake. There had to be one! It was much too cold to dive into the lake now. She would surely freeze. In her search, an unnoticed object caused Meg to slip. She fell to the floor with a slight scream, the object landing before her. Right in front of her face, so close that the tip of her nose seemed to touch it, was a broken skull. Meg screamed with all the force in her aching lungs, pushing herself across the floor as far away as she could from the skull, dragging her dress in mud but more importantly; accidentally shattering her own gas lamp. Everything went dark.
For a while Meg sat in total darkness, her breath coming in trembling gasps. Finally, the squeak of a rat caused Meg to leap to her fate in an instant, another scream echoing in the blackness. She placed her hand in front of her face, but could not see even a hint of it. It was so dark that Meg even wondered if she had gone blind. How could any place on Earth be so impenetrably dark?
Her wonder ended, however, as a most horrifying realization sunk in. She was trapped in the somewhere in the catacombs, utterly blinded, soaked, freezing, surrounded by rats and corpses, and no one knew how to get to her.
Tears filled Meg's eyes but she could not release them. She was past the point of crying. No, she had to get out of here. She didn't want to die in the sewers! Desperately, Meg took cautious baby steps, her hands flailing wildly around her in search of a wall. Finally, she found one. She slid her hands against the cold, slick, jagged stone as she walked, using what she felt as a guide.
Unfortunately, Meg could not see where she was going. Thus she did not know that she was close to the bank and her sheer terror had filtered out the sounds of the lake. She could not sense the slimy scum until she had stepped on it. Her feet fell from underneath her and she plunged into the frosty waters of the underground lake.
She screamed again, or tried to, but when she opened her mouth to take in a breath; her lungs filled with chilling, black water. Meg paddled fervently, but the cold made it difficult for her body to move and the water in her body was weighing her down. She could see nothing, but the feeling of death was all around her. She was sinking…
Hmm, well that was… gloomy. Not at all what'd I'd expect from a work of humor. What does the Authoress do when this happens…? Oh! Of course! She checks in with Raoul!
Raoul and Christine had just arrived home from Philippe's classes. As they shed their heavy fur coats, the butler entered the room to deliver the letter.
Christine opened it, being the more literate of the two, and read aloud:
"You are hereby cordially invited to attend the event that will become the talk to the city for years to come… at least for the few honorary people who will be there. Please be at this address, on this day, by this time, for the premiere of Fopcorn; the newest Opera written by Erik de Chagny. Raoul! That's our son!" Christine gasped, looking up from the invitation in shock.
Raoul made a noise, much like what'd you'd expect a flower to make if it could snore, and then turned to his wife. "Philippe wrote an opera?"
"No! The other one! Little Erik! He's alive and well! This must be his way to get through to us in secret!" Christine said, tears of relief coming to her eyes.
"Oh. Well, I don't know if we should go. Philippe does have a lot of classes to attend. We might be busy."
"It also says that if we don't go, the person who read this invitation will die in seven days." Christine said, sitting on the edge of the bed and bringing her focus back to the letter in her hands.
"Mhm, whatever you say sweetie." Raoul said, looking through his drawers for a matching scarf to go with his current outfit.
"P.S. If Christine dies her ghost will haunt Raoul and rip all his hair out!" Christine read casually.
Raoul gasped, dropping his styling products. "What? I shall not lose my hair on your account, my beloved! Come, we must shop for the day of this opera! To the fop-mobile!" And with that, Raoul took Christine by the wrist and was out the door.
End commentary.
Alright, I'm back.
Sorry I took so long. I only meant to get some ice cream, but you know
how it is. You see one thing that looks good, then you get another and
another. Then you start craving something else! Before you know it
you've had thirteen lunches. So, what'd I miss? …You're done? Already?
Oh, alright then. Did you leave them with a good cliff hanger? You did?
Aw, I'm so proud of you! Good Link. You get the shackles off for a
whole hour now.
Next Time:
Little Erik: Welcome to my gala.
All: (Stare blankly)
Little Erik: My premiere?
All: (nothing)
Little Erik: My gathering? Festivity? Celebration? Souriee? C'mon, you people are French!
All: ...
Christne: (Raises hand) I'm not!
Little Erik: Let's try this again! Welcome to my PARTY!
All: Ohhhh!
Little Erik: Let the music, begin!
Raoul: I like chicken, I like liver, meow mix, meow mix, please deliver!
Little Erik: I meant the Opera.
Meg: D'oh!
Erik: Bleh, this is the crappiest seat I've ever had. And I've lived in a cave.
Madame Giry: Oh, complain, complain! That's all you ever do! Lighten up!
Link: Do I have to narrate again?
Authoress: Last time, please?
Link: By last time, you mean "I'm going to be doing this a lot from now on" don't you?
Authoress: Yes. Yes I do.
Misty: Yay!
Willow: What are you so happy about?
Misty: Why are you NOT so happy about whatever it is?
Willow: Good point. WEE-HOO!
Stella: Well, time for my part. (Walks on stage)
Ann: (Behind Stella with a knife) Huh? The show's starting? Damn. (Hides knife)
Readers: Aww...
Tune in next time! Or don't. Either way, the stupidity will never end! Muahaha!