Lady Taevyn: stupid computer, locking out the internet.

Lethia: lol, it's kinda hard for Lenore to kill Erik for his little pranks, what with him being immortal and all. I know, I'm such a smartass.

Der Drache Dame: Yay! Lenore's description of Erik amused someone! And…work on the prequel, damnit!

Black Hole Phoenix: Glad you are entertained by the ballet girls. As to rolling eyes at Lenore's story of the Opera Ghost, that was kinda the point. It's an absurd story, and Justin is naive enough to believe she's telling him the truth. As to the dropping of the light being pun-y and yet childish…he doesn't want to hurt Lenore, so he's keeping his pranks simple but still bothersome enough to get what he wants.

Timeflies: Yeah, these managers are odd. But aren't we all odd?

MJ MOD: Yes, Justin is naïve, William is careless, and Claudia isn't looking for trouble, she just kinda stumbled into it with her big mouth. As to Claudia being an idiot for assuming a raped woman would be ashamed…how many girls do you know that would have no issues whatsoever with being raped? Rape victims sometimes feel as if it was their fault they were raped somehow, and would naturally feel ashamed that they let such a thing happen to themselves. Not to mention the shame of her children being bastards. As you may have noticed, society isn't all too kind to children who have no legal father. After all, the definition of bastard is a child born out of wedlock, yet society has made this a derogatory term for someone who is mean or disagreeable. Not very positive at all. Anyways, Lenore isn't necessarily angry with Erik for disrupting the performance, but she'll certainly comment on it. As for the sims, I was playing Sims 2 (all expansion packs up through Seasons, I don't have Bon Voyage yet) and for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, it was a great book! Worth every penny!

Anonymous#13: Glad the interruptions made you laugh.

Wings of Glory: I'm sorry you missed Hiroshi last chapter. He won't be in this one either…well, he'll be mentioned, but not seen.

Hot4Gerry: I'm so sorry! I realize in the last chapter I hit the 'p' instead of 'o' so I accidentally called you Hpt4Gerry. Sorry, fingers slip occasionally. So, there's someone out there who hopes nothing bad happens to Justin, as he seems like a nice guy. Everyone else seems to think he's odd and naïve. (Yes, he is those things, but he's also a nice guy.) And yes, I was going for a phanfic that's out of the mainstream. I don't want to write a normal fanfic, cuz that wouldn't stand out from the rest.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, REVIEW


William was on his last nerve. He needed to go to his apartment and report to his master; he didn't have time to waste here listening to Justin panic. The performance had ended only fifteen minutes ago, but he hadn't even been able to socialize with the patrons or receive praise for returning Lenore to the public.

"…so clearly, we must do something," Justin was saying as he paced back and forth in their office. "It can't be some man, it has to be a ghost! You can explain away the monkey, the dress, and the stage light, but you have no excuse for that brawl in Act III. Obviously the Ghost possessed them."

"We don't have to do anything," William said through gritted teeth. "You're letting this man get to you. It's clear he's got you believing he's some supernatural being."

"What about Dessler's story? You don't think she'd make that up, do you?" Justin retorted.

"I agree with you on that," William granted. "There's no reason for her to help this man, whoever he is. She said she went to dinner that night; perhaps she had too much wine."

"Alcohol doesn't cause hallucinations!" Justin argued.

"She could've had a bad dream," William shrugged.

There was a knock at the office door, and the secretary poked his head into the room. "Several members of the cast wish to speak with you gentlemen," he informed his employers.

"Not now, we're busy," William snarled.

"I don't care if you're dying, you're damn well going to see us," Lenore shouted, shoving the secretary aside and storming into the office. Ignazio followed her, and the chorus shuffled in nervously, as if they weren't sure they should just barge in but certainly not wanting to be excluded from the conversation. The secretary, on the other hand, scurried back out, slamming the door behind him in his haste.

"We're about to meet with the stage hands; they have quite a bit to answer for," William informed them. "If you could just wait outside until we're done"-

"No, we could not," Lenore snapped. "We feel that"-

"Sirs?" the secretary said, opening the door once again. "The stage hands are here."

"Show them in," William sighed. "We'll settle this now." The stage hands entered, making the room extremely crowded between the cast and crew present. Some of them looked irked, others fearful, and some bored. "Whichever of you is playing at being a ghost, now is the time to confess." There was a few moments pause where all of the stage hands shifted nervously. "Alright, whoever reveals this nuisance will receive a pay raise."

"I know my men, sir," the head stage hand spoke up. "And it weren't none of us."

"So the monkey appeared all on its own, did it?" William chuckled. "And Patricia's gown fell off for the hell of it? I suppose the stage light dropped because it wanted to visit with the stage?"

"I ain't sayin' that. It just weren't us," the head stage hand replied. "That monkey…every time Monsieur Ricci threw it off stage, it disappeared instead of hittin' the floor. And then it would reappear right next to Madam Dessler. As for the stage light, we checked the riggings this afternoon and everything was in tip top shape. And no one was near it at the time. I already checked, and everyone has an alibi, who has another alibi, and so on. Unless you're suggestin' we're all dishonest…"

"Certainly not," Justin assured the man. "You see that, William? A toy that disappears and reappears on a whim, and a light that was on secure riggings with no one near enough to release it."

"There is no ghost!" William barked, glaring at the assembly.

"The toy and light may have logical explanations, but what about my dress?" Patricia inquired. "I wasn't near any piece of scenery, so it couldn't catch on that. No one stepped on it from behind, and even if they had, how did the seams get so weak? It was perfect during rehearsal this afternoon. I left it in the dressing room, with the door locked, until the performance. If you want to assume that I weakened the seams, how do you propose I got it caught on an invisible something or other onstage?"

"And explain the altercation between Patricia and Domingo in Act III while you're at it," Ignazio demanded.

"Don't say I was at fault," Domingo commanded before he could be blamed. "It was as if my body began moving of its own accord. I could see what I was doing, knew what was happening, but had no control."

"That's exactly how I felt too," Patricia informed the managers. "Something took control of us."

"I'm afraid you can't dismiss two people losing control of themselves easily, Monsieur Steele," Lenore said. "Obviously that was a case of possession."

"Precisely what I said," Justin exclaimed with a triumphant smile. "Now you see, William. Now you know what we're dealing with."

"I see and know nothing," William sighed, "except that someone here is afraid to reveal the real culprit. There is nothing to be done but have them all submit to polygraphs."

"I'll take no lie detector test!" Ignazio roared indignantly. The rest of the cast and crew echoed him, glaring at William for even suggesting such a thing.

"All those in favor of going on strike until our managers agree to resolve their issues with the Ghost, raise your hand," Lenore suggested.

Every hand, including Justin's, shot into the air. William grumbled under his breath. This was not the time for a strike. Master would be very displeased to say the least.

"Alright, fine," William conceded with a heavy sigh of exasperation. "You're all dismissed; Justin, let's get things in order."


After helping Ember secure the twins in their car seats, Lenore climbed into the front and buckled herself in. Then she turned to regard Erik, who was putting the car in reverse to back out of their parking space. Once he had finished backing up, she spoke. "I thought you weren't going to target me."

"I didn't," Erik replied. "The monkey had no target, Patricia's dress had no relation to you whatsoever, as would the little scuffle between Patricia and Domingo had you not involved yourself in it, and the stage light's target was clearly the stage."

"We'll just disregard the fact that I was onstage for each occurrence," Lenore muttered.

"Being the diva, you tend to be onstage quite a bit. You have only yourself to blame for that."

"Because I made myself such a great singer," Lenore snorted. "No Phantom of the Opera gave me lessons, not at all."

"You took this position."

"And I'm never going to hear the end of it," Lenore complained. "To think I went to Evans this afternoon on your behalf."

"That was an interesting story, chérie. Since when has two inches over six foot been close to seven feet? And I believe my eyes have changed to a yellow hue now, according to you."

"I had to come up with something," she explained. "Damn bastard didn't do what I asked anyway."

"What did you ask?" Ember inquired interestedly.

"I asked for them to take Erik's salary out of my wages, and to let me buy Box 5 permanently. But, as I'm sure you're well aware, they denied my request," Lenore said. "And just before we left, I proposed a massive strike if they didn't meet Erik's demands. So everything should be fine from now on." She sighed softly. "I'm so glad it's only a rehearsal tomorrow. I'm exhausted, I don't think I could handle another performance."


Seeing how exhausted she was put Erik in an extremely foul mood. He hadn't had the woman since their wedding night, almost eleven months without physical intimacy. She'd been too tired with the twins, but with Ember's assistance Lenore had been starting to recover from the fatigue. He'd been hoping that he could enjoy her tonight in bed, however she'd gone and gotten a job and was now too tired to consider participating in bedroom activities.

"Your thoughts are naughty, dear husband," Lenore commented from the passenger seat.

"Well perhaps you shouldn't be sneaking around in them," Erik retorted, strengthening his defenses.

"Ow," she mumbled, putting a hand to her head. "I hate it when you do that."

"I hate it when you read thoughts that are none of your business," Erik replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you wanting to fuck me is none of my business," Lenore returned.

"You two really don't need to share this conversation with the entire car," Ember sighed from the backseat. Deciding she was right, Erik disregarded Lenore's last comment and fell silent. Then Ember suddenly shrieked "What the holy hell?"

Looking in the rearview mirror, Erik saw a small girl of about five, black hair in a pixie cut and orange eyes glittering mischievously. "Get out of my car," he ordered.

"Aww, you wouldn't throw a cute little girl like me out in the cold, would you?" Satan whined.

"Yes, I would. Now get out."

"Hello Ember. It's nice to see you again; it's been such a long time. The last time I saw you was at the wedding, right?" the prince of darkness greeted the person whose lap he was occupying.

"Satan?" Ember guessed the child's identity.

"Unfortunately," Erik answered. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to ask Lenore how her first day back at the opera house went," Lucifer giggled. "I hear a particular ghost caused quite a ruckus at the performance."

"My day was tiring," Lenore supplied. "Therefore, I happen to be exhausted. End of story, good bye."

Lucifer disappeared from Ember's lap and reappeared on Lenore's. He twined his small arms around Lenore's neck. "Come on, let me stay awhile longer. You could be more descriptive about your day," he suggested.

Jerking the car to the side of the road, Erik flung open his door as he yanked Mephistopheles off of Lenore, then proceeded to throw him out. Slamming his door shut, Erik resumed driving.

Moments later, the girl reappeared, this time on the hood of the car, glaring in through the windshield. The radio clicked on and, using his true voice (which was deep, cavernous, and dripping with evil), Satan snarled, "I will not be ignored, Keeran!"

Irritated, Erik promptly slammed on the brakes, and the prince of darkness went flying off the hood of the car to hit the pavement in front of them. Ember was muttering scripture under her breath and Lenore had curled up as much as she possibly could, whimpering fearfully. Why can't that damn idiot remember that his voice has an intense effect on mortals? Thomas simply glared, as if he were angry at Belial for scaring his mother and aunt, while Sonata delivered scorching complaints in her baby language. But why aren't the children afraid? It could be because Satan was responsible for their conception, or had altered them to ensure they would properly mature. Or maybe because their father was an immortal. Or perhaps all of those reasons.

The body of the little girl picked itself up off the pavement, turning to look into the windshield. The body shifted as Satan took on his true form. He grew to his height of ten feet and four inches, the black pixie cut he had worn as a little girl turning to a red mane that fell to his shoulders. Black eyes glared malevolently as six pairs of black wings sprouted from his back.

"Do not try my patience, Erik Vidar Dessler," Satan's voice boomed angrily. "Remember that your wife is a gift that I may take back whenever I wish. Her death is mine to decide. You know better than most that death can come in many shades. I will choose the most harsh to cause you immeasurable pain! Perhaps you would enjoy for me to eradicate her memory and then have some vicious little disease eat away at her so that she spends months in pain, continuously sending you away because she doesn't even know who you are, much less why you would care to be with her in her final moments. Yes, get rid of her memory, and then inflict a very specific brain cancer that damages her ability to commit anything to memory so that she won't even remember that you come to her every day and beg her to let you be with her."

Erik glowered at the prince of darkness, knowing full well the fallen angel would follow through on his threats. "Get in the car, you fucking bastard," he snarled in acquiescence.


Achaius hummed as he worked, carefully sorting through his collection of beads. He was quite particular in which beads were to be used for what, and he had a good deal of beadwork ahead of him. Time was short; only one more after tonight. He was halfway through his first project when the door to the apartment swung open and William staggered in. The man appeared to be exhausted, but Achaius didn't care what state his servant was in so long as the work he wanted done was accomplished.

"She was spectacular tonight," Achaius stated. He hadn't gone to the show, but he knew she would have all of Paris talking.

"Yes. But I'm afraid we've hit a minor snag. She insisted we take action to appease the Opera Ghost," William complained.

"Of course she does," Achaius chuckled. "Just make sure you keep her happy until the time is right. Whatever it takes."

"As you wish."


The silence in the car was utterly deafening. Satan, having returned to a five year old girl with black hair and orange eyes, was clearly very pleased, sitting in Lenore's lap. Lenore was caressing the black tresses, hoping that this would pacify him and make him forget his threats. Ember was glowering at Satan, and the twins refused to make a sound due to the presence of this thing that had been so cruel to their mother. Erik stared straight ahead, radiating annoyance and hatred.

"The Circle's meeting again in a few days," Satan commented. "You'll come, won't you Erik?"

"No," Erik replied caustically.

"Aw, why not?"

"Unlike the rest of the immortals, I have an occupation and a family," Erik explained.

"You could take the day off. And I'm sure Lenore won't mind," Satan dismissed these details.

"She'd mind terribly," Erik snarled.

"You'd give him permission, right darling?" Mephistopheles asked her.

"Um, sure, why not?" Lenore said agreeably. Like I'm going to tell the devil he can't have what he wants after he just threatened my life.

"I will not be attending," Erik growled.

"Erik," Lenore said softly. "For me, hm?"

Erik sighed heavily. "Perhaps I could bother to make an appearance," he muttered.

"This'll be great. It's been too long since your last meeting, you know," Belial chattered. "You've no idea the developments that have occurred. Sariel may have a sharp eye, but Zakai thinks he might have found a gap in the barrier. So we might be able to stage an invasion."

Beelzebub continued discussing the invasion of Heaven for the rest of the ride. When they got home, Lenore was delighted to be able to get out of the car and get away from him. As she slipped out of the front seat of the car, she noticed someone was sitting on their doorstep.

"Erik, we have a guest," she informed her husband before reaching into the backseat to retrieve Sonata. Straightening with her daughter's car seat in hand, Lenore felt someone staring over her shoulder. Turning, she saw the dark skinned stranger who'd been on their stoop seconds before. His clothes were current fashion, his black hair was in dreadlocks, and his large brown eyes were fastened on Sonata. "Um, hi."

"You are mother?" he inquired in a deep rich voice, his eyes flicking up to Lenore's face, darting over to Ember, and then returning to Lenore.

"Yes, I"-

"May children always remember the Dreaming," he said. "For girl." He handed Lenore a shallow oblong wooden bowl with intricate carvings on the outside and bark lining on the inside.

"Uh, what precisely is it?" she inquired, not wanting to be rude but having no idea why her daughter would receive a bowl.

"Is coolamon. For when girl has doll," the man informed her politely. Clearly English wasn't his first language.

"Oh, well, thank you," Lenore said. I wonder where you're from…I'll have to ask Erik later.

"For boy," the man continued, holding out what appeared to be a stick attached to a twig.

Lenore, however, had her hands full with the car seat and coolamon. Mercifully, Erik appeared at her side and accepted it, thanking this mysterious immortal a bit sharply, his temper still touchy because of Satan.

Having delivered his gifts, the immortal disappeared. "Who was that charming family member?" Lenore asked Erik. She was of the idea that, excepting Erik and Darius, that man was the nicest immortal she had met thus far. He was even a sight better than Gershom, as he hadn't ruined her dining room table.

"Yileen," Erik answered. "He's an aborigine from Australia. From one of the Kimberley tribes, I believe. He's a medicine man, and he also owns one of the Dreaming."

"One of the what?"

"Dreaming," Satan replied. "A Dreaming is a religious tale about the world's creation and belongs to a specific tribe; only one member of the tribe owns the Dreaming. Once every year, that member will tell the Dreaming to the tribe, so that they'll never forget it. It is passed on upon the tribe member's death to the heir he or she chooses. Being immortal, Yileen will never pass on the Dreaming. He's five thousand seven hundred and twenty three."

"Next time I see him, I'll have to ask about his Dreaming," Lenore said. It sounded interesting, and he'd been pleasant for this first visit. "So what's the stick for?"

"It's for a game," Belial said. "They call it Weet-weet, and it requires a good deal of skill. It's actually a form of competition for males. But anyone can join in the game, if they want to. What you do is swing it over your head and then throw it to the ground, in a manner of speaking. The stick detaches from the twig and then skips along the ground. The person who can skip it farthest wins. But your hold and swing have to be particular to get the stick to skip."

"I think I'll just be a spectator then," Lenore sighed. Once she learned proper holds for these types of things, she never forgot them; but it took her forever to learn and she had no intention of embarrassing herself attempting to play an ancient game that aboriginal children excelled at.


Satan sat on the edge of the bed, watching Erik move about the room in preparation for bed. Lenore was in the nursery putting the twins down for the night with Ember. He sighed heavily after a minute, utterly bored.

"Let's go out tonight," he proposed to Erik.

"Beg your pardon?" Erik snapped.

"Let's go out tonight. Just you and me. We'll find someone that'll be fun to kill," Satan suggested.

"I'm afraid your proposal doesn't interest me."

"Oh, don't be such a square. You'll enjoy it, I know you will."

"No."

"Come on," Satan whined. "You'll lose the knack for it if you don't practice every now and then."

"Perhaps it's a knack I should be trying to lose," Erik muttered.

"No way, that would suck. You'd never be happy if you lost the knack for murder," he argued. "Besides, don't you care what kind of name you'll get when you turn five hundred? You wouldn't want to get something meaning 'gentle', would you?"

"I don't particularly care," Erik said dismissively.

"You should," Satan mumbled bitterly. This is wrong, all wrong. You're supposed to care, I'm supposed to mean the world to you. That's how it works. I'm everything: to Raghnall because I created him, to Khaldun because I gave him god-like powers, to Gershom because he has no one else, to Zakai because I gave his existence meaning, to Yileen because I created Raghnall who is his tribe's revered god, to Tristan because I granted him a way to see, to Lucas because I gave him the means to seek his revenge, to Viktor because I saved him from that battle with the Byzantine Army, to Hiroshi because I made it possible for him to kill as many as he liked without ever getting caught, to you because I gave you half of a perfect face and introduced you to the Circle, who didn't give a rat's ass what your face looked like. (Darius, of course, didn't count; he was an immortal that Satan hadn't planned on existing.)

But I'm not important to you anymore. I should never have given her to you; then I'd still be the sun in your universe. You wanted a lover, and I wanted you to be happy. I didn't think you'd be like Him. I thought, because I gave it to you, you'd be all the more grateful and love me even more for it. But now, just like Him, you have something you love more. I fell because I was jealous…and now, I have to suffer it all over again. I hate it…

Lenore walked into the room then, and Erik's eyes turned to her. Lucifer felt like he always did when Erik looked at Lenore; he felt like he would be severely sick to his stomach. The love in Erik's eyes when he looked at that woman… That love is supposed to be mine! I didn't bow down to what He loved more than me; I'll not bow out to this woman either. Fortunately for me, one can only fall from grace once. When all is said and done, I'll be the reason for that look in your eyes, Erik.


Erik was planning ways to ruin today's rehearsal as he entered the underground through the gate on the Rue Scribe side. He would see to it that the musicians had a great many difficulties with their instruments. The props department would find themselves thoroughly plagued with disappearing tools and materials. He considered harassing the costume department as well, then decided it could wait until tomorrow. Before he began, though, he would look in on his managers.

"You what?" he heard Lenore's voice as he approached the office.

"We cancelled rehearsal," Steele snarled. "Apparently, to hold a séance here tonight, we need to keep the atmosphere as calm as possible throughout the day."

"Why didn't you call and tell me not to come in then?" Lenore complained.

"I was hoping you'd be part of our circle, Madam Dessler," Evans informed her in a pleading voice. "Because you've had contact with the spirit before, it will increase chances of contact tonight."

"Look behind me gentlemen," Lenore instructed. Erik peered into the room through a tiny hole in the wall and glared at the managers. "What, pray tell, is Madam O'Malley holding?" She paused, giving a minute for her meaning to sink in. "My babies are only two months old. I can't simply hand them off for a few hours, it's impossible to tell when they'll need to feed."

"Surely you could just use a breast pump and"- Steele began to say.

"No, my husband doesn't approve of bottle feedings," Lenore snapped. "He wants me to form a strong bond with the children."

"If you just explain the situation"- Evans started to speak.

"You explain the bloody situation to him! Explain to my over-protective, dominating husband that my life is in danger because you won't pay the Opera Ghost or reserve his box, and that you want me to abandon our children for a few hours in an effort to pacify a spirit that wouldn't be riled up if you two had done what the Ghost asked in the first place!"


I can't believe I'm doing this. Boy, Mom would go ballistic, calling this devil worship. Lenore was currently sitting around a small circular table in Box 5 with Sarah, Patricia, Domingo, Justin, and Edgar Dunglas, the medium Justin had hired. As if a séance is going to appease Erik…

Bringing her mind back to what was currently transpiring, she had to force herself not to laugh. "If you are with us, Opera Ghost, and have anything to say, you may use my body," Edgar proclaimed. Trust me, you don't want him to do that. I know what that feels like, and it isn't pleasant. "Don't be afraid to communicate with us, spirit. Tell us what you need."

"You irritate me," Erik's voice echoed throughout the auditorium. The other five members of the séance all but jumped out of their skins; they hadn't expected to hear a disembodied voice unless it came through Edgar. "Thus the only thing I need is for you to leave."

"Opera Ghost, I wish to apologize for angering you when my cousin and I took over the business," Justin ventured. "We want to help you move on to the after life. But we can't help unless you tell us what it is you have left undone, or whatever you might have left behind."

"Clearly I never accomplished eradicating Dunglas' ancestors to avoid this tedious encounter," Erik sarcastically returned.

"Please, we just want to help," Sarah stated. "Do you know why you can't move on?"

"I have not asked for you help, you impertinent little girl," Erik snapped.

"I don't mean to be impertinent, sir," she said, her voice trembling fearfully.

"We're here to help you," Domingo proclaimed. "Clearly, all these past years of paying your salary and reserving your box aren't doing you any good."

"And you think you are capable of judging what does or does not do me good?" Erik inquired, his tone implying he was truly amused by this.

"Is it that you need to feel loved before you can move on?" Patricia suddenly blurted out. "I know your parents never loved you, and then Christine…well, is that what you need? Someone to love you?"

The group sat still, each member holding their breath as they waited to hear his answer. A minute passed, and Edgar said, "Spirit, are you still with us?"

The voice that responded, in song, was Irish and feminine.

I have seen the lark soar high at morn,

Heard his song up in the blue.

"To whom are we speaking?" Edgar interrupted the voice.

I have heard the blackbird pipe his note,

The thrush and the linnet too.

"Spirit, please identify yourself," Edgar persisted.

But there's none of them can sing so sweet

My singing bird as you.

"Are you connected to the Opera Ghost?" Edgar asked, determined to get some information from this female voice.

If I could lure my singing bird

From his own cozy nest,

"Spirit"-

If I could catch my singing bird

I would warm him on my breast.

For there's none of them can sing so sweet

My singing bird as you.

"What is your name, Spirit?" Edgar inquired, surprisingly patient with the spirit that had ignored his requests thus far.

"A silent mouth is sweet to hear," the spirit replied with a girlish giggle. "I'd not be annoying the Opera Ghost if I were you, lad."

"So you know him. Is he still with us?"

"Oh, aye," the spirit said dismissively.

"Opera Ghost, will you be so kind as to answer Patricia's question?"

"Oi! Be ye thinkin' I don't love me laddie proper?" the female spirit growled.

"I beg your pardon!" Lenore snarled back. Who was this spirit, claiming to love Erik? After all, the only other woman had been Christine… Oh my God, I'm such an idiot! Erik's probably using his ventriloquism to get them to stop asking.

"Jack was right; ye be a pretty little lassie, Lenore," the female spirit observed.

"It knows her name!" Patricia squealed, terrified. "We're all going to die!" She broke down into tears, sobbing that she was a good Catholic girl, she should never have agreed to participate in a séance, and she was going to be haunted by malevolent spirits for the rest of her life.

"Spirits, we thank you for the time you have given us and bid you farewell," Edgar said hurriedly. "Release hands." The six at the table did as asked, and the séance was done.


"So, another chapter up. It would have been up sooner, except my stupid ass professors…they…grrr," Tammy growled.

"Poor creampuff," Hiroshi said sympathetically. "You see, readers, last week, Tammy had a test on Monday, a project due on Tuesday, and then two tests on Thursday. A lot of stress for my little creampuff."

"Yes it was," Tammy grumbled. "Why didn't you do my project for me? That woulda helped."

"That would be cheating."

"You're condemned as it is! What does it matter to you?"

"I'm thinking of you, really."

"You know, I'm so glad to have this back. SHOCKY SPORK!" Tammy said as she stabbed Hiroshi with the spork. For she had finally reacquired the shocky spork Hiroshi had stolen back in May. "Oh, and hey, I have two new favorite songs, not that you really care, but the songs are 'Face Down' by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus and "Sound of the Underground" by Girls Aloud. So review the chapter, and if you're interested check out the songs."