Men are jerks!

"I believe that point has been well established."

I whirl to glare daggers at the Authoress, my prisoner.

"Silence!" I thunder. She squeaks. I take that as a good sign.

Like I said, men are jerks. Raoul and I talked about horses for a long time in the garden. He really opened up and I was enjoying his company. Then he invited me to continue our conversation over a cup of tea in the common room. I was thinking, Woohoo, score!

We were two steps from the front door of the inn, arm in arm, when who should pop out of a returning carriage? Yes—the bug-eyed monster. If looks could kill, I know my head would have rolled off of my shoulders in a second. (Of course, if looks could kill, Christine would have bitten the dust a loooooooong time ago.) Anywho.

Christine and her posse stood in one corner, Raoul and I in the other. It was like the showdown at the O.K. Corral. Christine's face puffed up and her body swelled like a toad's. You could have seen the wall of tears glistening in her enormous eyes from a mile away. She's practiced this.

And what did the sweet, gentlemanly Vicomte de Changy do? He SHOVED me away—oh, yeah, like that's gonna make it look any better—and shuffled up to her royal toadiness, spluttering:

"Christine, I'm so glad you're back. Did you have a pleasant afternoon?"

I swear his nose couldn't have been any browner than if I had rubbed it in the mud and manure, like I wanted to. He reached out a hand to her. That must have been the signal because she chose that moment to burst into snotty tears and run into the garden. Naturally, he followed, leaving me to the prying eyes of, like, oh, half a million people!

"Little Lotte, please, it is not what you think!" he cried.

Gag me.

He's a jerk.

"You've said that."

I turn on the Authoress, towering over her and hissing in her face. She squirms.

"You! Yoooooou!" I spit. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault? How is it my fault?"

"Because you are the Authoress. Why can't you just give Anna and me the guys we want? No pain, no drama."

She snorts, "Where's the fun in that?"

"You're despicable."

"Such is life, still we love it. Now, may I please have my phic back?"

I ponder this request for a moment.

"No. Oh, lookie here. You have reviews for Chapter 24!"

"Hey, those are my reviews!"

I laugh as she struggles against the rubber snakes tied around her hands and feet.

"Let's see…oh, here's a good one! It seems that you forgot to leave a note for Phantress. What kind of 'most beloved, favouritist EVER' Authoress are you?" I say tauntingly.

"WAH! I didn't mean to forget. I'm sorry!"

"You scum."

"It was two in the morning. I didn't know what I was doing! Phantress, forgiv—MMF!"

I snigger to myself as I stuff a chocolate chip muffin into her mouth. Brushing crumbs from my blouse, I turn my attention back to the computer. Scanning the extensive list of reviews, I spy a particularly cool username: OneWhoWalksWithPigeons.

"Let's try this one. 'Oh, dear. I believe you are going to need this. tosses light saber in general direction of Misty Breyer'…Wait a minute." I realize my mistake, but it is too late. The familiar BWRRR of a lightsaber hums sinisterly behind me. Ever so slowly I turn around. There stands Misty, rubber snakes in pieces about her feet, purple robe billowing, and brandishing a magnificent violet Jedi weapon. A momentary pang of jealousy is quickly usurped by fear as I note that she has assembled an army of deadly looking socks. I gulp.

"The circle is now complete," she purrs menacingly. With a yelp of panic, I dodge the lasersword and the socks and tear out of the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

I have regained control it seems, but now one of my own fictional characters is loose in the house. I rally the socks to my side.

"CHARGE!"

We are hot on Brooke's heels. She scampers through the kitchen, pausing momentarily to bombard us with Cheerios. The effect is devastating for there is nothing more fatal to a sock than a well-aimed Cheerio. Many of my faithful, fuzzy slipper socks are mortally wounded.

Shrieking angrily, I slash my way through the shower of cereal with my lightsaber. Brooke bolts into the family room. I chase her in circles around the couch, cackling madly and swiping the lightsaber. I am most definitely in touch with the Dark Side. At last, she makes a break for the bedroom, the best of the socks biting her feet.

We have her cornered. A cornered fictional character is a very dangerous thing. Brooke is 'living' proof of that. She stands on my sister's bed; her back pressed against the Orlando Bloom shrine pasted on the wall. With her brown hair standing on end and her old-fashioned clothes, she looks not unlike the Bride of Frankenstein. Clutched in her white-knuckled grasp is my brand-new 1925 POTO DVD.

"NO!" I gasp in horror.

"Oh, yes. MWHAHAHA!" she giggles maniacally. "Drop the lightsaber or the DVD dies."

I hesitate.

"But Lady Brandybuck of the Shire gave it to me!"

"Like I care."

I've got to buy some time. Reluctantly, I toss the lightsaber aside. She grins and tosses me the DVD. All too easy.

"FLY MY PRETTIES! FLY!" I scream and the socks hit the fan. Literally. There are socks flying everywhere. A few of the more colorful ones stupidly miss their target and get tangled in the tendrils of Poppet, my ivy plant. The rest of them successfully dive-bomb Brooke until she is reduced to a hysterical mass of lint.

Jumping to the computer, I exercise my powers as Authoress and type: Brooke vanished and reappeared in her proper place within my phic.

POOF! The lint blob is gone.

XXXXXXXXXX

Finally, orderly chaos is restored, though I have taken the precaution of installing a sock patrol to guard against any future mutinies.

For any one who cares: I do not own POTO.

BohemianCane04: Welcome aboard! I hope you shall review more often.

MiserableRevolutionary: (Erik: Have you seen my Punjab Lasso? Misty: No! I haven't seen it. I don't know who has it. What makes you think I know?)

Aurora: I think Brooke's mutiny was little more violent, wouldn't you say?

Typewritter 15: Thank you! Anna and Brooke are both twenty years old. I know they act like five-year-olds but hey, don't we all?

Phantress: My dear globe-hoping reviewer, please forgive me! I would love to be your beta. It's about time you wrote something. My e-mail address is posted on my profile. I never use AIM so that's kind of pointless. I really look forward to it and I consider it an honor to be asked.

SimplyElymas: Glad to have you back!

Son Ange: Here's what you asked for!

Solecito: Fluff and angst all in due time, but I've got some violent chaos to get out of my system first. I watched the Dear Frankie preview. O.M.G! Gerry is delicious! His eyes are gorgeous! (drool) Woohoo! A Bogie fan. Casablanca is my all time favorite. And thank you for the encouragement.

ShaShiSar221: 'ello my friend. About the frantic updating…I have very boring professors, so I write the chapters in a notebook in class so I'm able to update more often.

xxXGoddessxofxdeadxloveXxx: YAH! That's like less than a month away. I am so buying it the day it hits the shelves.

Pleading Eyes: OMG! That would be hysterical if Raoul took over your phic. He wouldn't be that hard to defeat though, just threaten him with talking jars and an empty hair gel bottle. Hey, when do we find out what's up with Erik's new foppish brother?

kristinekat13: Hey, you did some pretty good guessing there. I don't want Anna to confess too soon, one, b/c I'm old-fashioned and I think it's the guy's job to confess first; two, b/c I don't want Erik to love her simply b/c she accepts him, if you know what I mean.

Secret: I shall take your reply as a great compliment. Thank you.

LiTTleLoTTe1991: Oh, I've got a much better antidote for Anna and Brooke than socks (though socks are good for that), even better than chocolate ice cream.

Silent Masquerade: I'm amazed at how surprised—albeit pleasantly—people are about these chapters. I wanted to give some insight into Anna and Brooke's feelings and frustrations, but I wanted to do it humorously b/c the last few chapters have been on the serious side.

Nota Lone: (Erik: Don't worry, she's not coming anywhere near it.)

Master Darth Warious: Do you own a Darth Maul? My cousin would envy you.

MoonDancerCat: Actually, I have recently encountered someone who made a complicated mess of things by telling someone that they liked them. It was a very stupid move, but I think Anna is more afraid of embarrassment.

Baby-Vixen: I have noticed that a lot of reviewers review whilst on a sugar high. Cabbage? Red or green? They both taste good.

easternelvenlady: What is your speech for? I had to write a paper on POTO the play once…it was fun though I think I was little too passionate in my description of the Phantom.

Lady Brandybuck of the Shire: You are a little skunk.

OneWhoWalksWithPigeons: Thank you for saving my butt. (hugs lightsaber and accidentally ignites it) EEK! (Luke: Off button, darling. Misty: Thank you, me love).