donaMariposa: Okey doke, then. Let's get started.
Christine: Who are you?
donaMariposa: I'm the author. I can include myself in the story if I want to. Now go away; you don't appear until the middle of the chapter.
Christine: *pouts*
DonaMariposa: I mean it. Go away.
Christine: fine.
DonaMariposa: Anyhoo."the opera ghost really existed. He was not,-" Now what do you want?
Christine: you forgot to put your disclaimer.
DonaMariposa: You know what? I don't like you. And also, I'm the author, which means I can kill you off if I feel like it. SO LEAVE before I get really pissed off and kill you.
Christine: *leaves*
DonaMariposa: now, then, Chapter 2- The new Martini. *Christine points to script* I mean, the new Margarita. Which brings me to the plot of this fic...I decided to take the characters of the Phantom of the Opera on a little drinking spree...hee, hee...what horrors will unfold? What terrible secrets will be unleashed...
Setting: The Random Bar located in Paris...
Christine: *coughs*
Raoul: *blinks*
Erik: *shifts uncomfortably*
Random bar patron: *belches*
Random Cricket: chirp
DonaMariposa: *steps on Random Cricket, kills Random Bar Patron*
BANG!
Sailor Venus from Sailor Moon: Venus Love Chain Encircle!!
DonaMariposa: -_- '...you're in the wrong fic.
Sailor Venus: Shit. *crashes through hole in wall and leaves*
DonaMariposa: *fixes hole in wall* Back to what I was saying...
Christine: Holy Feces, how did you do that?
Dona Mariposa: I am the ALL MIGHTY AUTHORESS of this fic. Which means I have the ALL MIGHTY AUTHOR POWER. I also have the power to do this. *claps hand twice* clap on...
*Christine promptly keels over*
Erik: Well, you can't do that. She's still in chapter five.
DonaMariposa: Fine. *claps hand twice* Clap off...
*Christine gets up and sits back down*
Raoul: You sound like a bad infomercial.
donaMariposa: *ignores him* Well, now that the awkward silence has been broken...Erik, tell us about Joseph Buquet.
Erik: I didn't kill him. Christine did.
Raoul: Why would Christine kill Joseph Buquet?
Christine: I don't know. We'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out.
Erik: Why do we have to wait until the next chapter to find out?
DonaMariposa: Because I have writer's block and I need some time to think of a reason why Christine would kill Joseph Buquet...*sips drink*
Erik: Well, you're sure as hell not going to find any inspiration at the bottom of that shot glass.
DonaMariposa: You wanna quit being such a smartass?
Erik: *shrugs*
Random Fanfiction Reader: This sucks! There's no plot...
DonaMariposa: *bored* And what do you expect me to do about it?
Random Fanfiction Reader: *points finger* You are the authoress...
DonaMariposa: *chugs vodka* All right...now get the hell out of my bar... Anyway, now to appease Mr. Random Fanfiction Reader, I think it's time to make things a little more exciting... *claps hands*. ..Clap off...
Erik: Why are we sitting in the dark?
Cesar: Because the lights are off.
DonaMariposa: *turns to Cesar* What in the nine hells?
Everyone: Cesar?!? *turns to donaMariposa* Why is there a talking horse in a bar?
DonaMariposa: I may as well ask why there is a deranged, psychotic, underground living musical genius who supposed to be dead sitting in a bar.
Christine: Erik's different.
DonaMariposa: How so? Please enlighten me.
Christine: *thinks hard*
DonaMariposa: *dryly* Don't think so hard. You'll hurt yourself. Anyway, all three of you are to stop trying to get me off topic in order to postpone the torture I have planned for you. Because it will not work. Psychotic sadists such as I are not to be diverted by mere attempts to keep me talking about random, useless subjects like talking horses. And what said talking horse is doing in a bar.
Cesar: *neighs*
DonaMariposa: *rummages in coat pocket,* Aha! I have found my Handy-Dandy Tranquilizer Gun!
Raoul: *raises eyebrow* You carry a tranquilizer around with you?
DonaMariposa: It's a dangerous line of work, being a fanfiction writer. *shoots Cesar with tranquilizer gun*
Cesar: *stops mid-whinny and slumps over*
DonaMariposa: Anyway, Bartender!...another round of drinks for my friends here...and I think I'll have a Bloody Mary.
Random Bartender: And the horse?
DonaMariposa: he'll have a virgin Margarita.
Erik: He won't want Christine, then. *snickers*
*weak rimshot*
DonaMariposa: that was about the worst pun I've ever heard. But that doesn't matter, my friends from the audience. Because I am about to get my characters very drunk. And I mean very. *cackles*
Two hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-two shots of tequila later...
Raoul: *hiccup*
Erik: *slumped over on table*
Christine: *retches*
DonaMariposa: *surprisingly sober* Anyway I may as well take this opportunity to do my disclaimer. I don't own Phantom of the Opera. Or its characters. I just take them out, get them nice and drunk, and them send them back to the Opera House. But they actually belong to Gaston Leroux. And I suppose Andrew Lloyd Webber, by extension.
Christine: *looks up after she finishes vomiting* Erik, I love you...come on, Erik, do that trick you do where you throw your voice...that makes me so horny...
DonaMariposa: *highly amused* Quit slurring your words like that Christine, no one can understand you.
Christine: *leans over and vomits some more*
Random Cricket Number Two: chirp, chirp
Mme. Giry: *jumps up out of nowhere, smashing Random Cricket Number two in the process* AHH!! THE RANDOMNESS!! *clutches eyes and disappears in puff of smoke*
DonaMariposa: ?!?!?
Christine: *looks up from vomiting* What the hell was that?
DonaMariposa: How should I know?
Christine: You're the author of this fic. You control everything.
DonaMariposa: *swigs tequila* You have much to learn about the world of fanfiction, my friend. *sighs* Like I said, the art of fanfiction is a precarious business. There are several things that are beyond the control of all fanfic writers. *suddenly looks serious* like It-That-Must-Not-Be-Named...the dreaded...the feared...the terrible...*leafs through thesaurus*...the horrible...the infamous...WRITER'S BLOCK!!!!!!!!!!!...*lightning flashes and dramatic music plays, compliments of Erik sitting at bar piano*
donaMariposa: *shudders*
Christine: *confused*
Erik: *confused*
Raoul: *horny*
Random Cricket Number Three: Chirp, Chirp
DonaMariposa: *smashes Random Cricket Number Three*
Erik: Where do you get all those crickets?
DonaMariposa: *holds up jar labeled Random Crickets* I bought them on eBay.
Erik: Oh. *scratches nose*
DonaMariposa: Since it's painfully obvious that no one has anything to say, this chapter will be over. *chews on imaginary olive that came in imaginary martini* And please review on your way out. All those who review will receive a sticker. Compliments of my shitty budget that won't let me give anything other crappy pieces of adhesive paper cut into tantalizing shapes. And I haven't decided whether or not this will be a one-shot fic or not. It'll depend on the reviews I get. (Hint, hint) And I can always use any ideas you might have for the next chapter. Also, if you'd like me to email you updates, just let me know in your review. And please, no flames. If you really want to flame me, I suppose I can't stop you, but if you do...I will unleash the wrath of my army of Random Crickets upon you...a force not to be taken lightly...
Random Cricket Army: Chirp, chirp
Shitty Budget: *growl*
DonaMariposa: *pats Shitty Budget on head*
Christine: Who are you?
donaMariposa: I'm the author. I can include myself in the story if I want to. Now go away; you don't appear until the middle of the chapter.
Christine: *pouts*
DonaMariposa: I mean it. Go away.
Christine: fine.
DonaMariposa: Anyhoo."the opera ghost really existed. He was not,-" Now what do you want?
Christine: you forgot to put your disclaimer.
DonaMariposa: You know what? I don't like you. And also, I'm the author, which means I can kill you off if I feel like it. SO LEAVE before I get really pissed off and kill you.
Christine: *leaves*
DonaMariposa: now, then, Chapter 2- The new Martini. *Christine points to script* I mean, the new Margarita. Which brings me to the plot of this fic...I decided to take the characters of the Phantom of the Opera on a little drinking spree...hee, hee...what horrors will unfold? What terrible secrets will be unleashed...
Setting: The Random Bar located in Paris...
Christine: *coughs*
Raoul: *blinks*
Erik: *shifts uncomfortably*
Random bar patron: *belches*
Random Cricket: chirp
DonaMariposa: *steps on Random Cricket, kills Random Bar Patron*
BANG!
Sailor Venus from Sailor Moon: Venus Love Chain Encircle!!
DonaMariposa: -_- '...you're in the wrong fic.
Sailor Venus: Shit. *crashes through hole in wall and leaves*
DonaMariposa: *fixes hole in wall* Back to what I was saying...
Christine: Holy Feces, how did you do that?
Dona Mariposa: I am the ALL MIGHTY AUTHORESS of this fic. Which means I have the ALL MIGHTY AUTHOR POWER. I also have the power to do this. *claps hand twice* clap on...
*Christine promptly keels over*
Erik: Well, you can't do that. She's still in chapter five.
DonaMariposa: Fine. *claps hand twice* Clap off...
*Christine gets up and sits back down*
Raoul: You sound like a bad infomercial.
donaMariposa: *ignores him* Well, now that the awkward silence has been broken...Erik, tell us about Joseph Buquet.
Erik: I didn't kill him. Christine did.
Raoul: Why would Christine kill Joseph Buquet?
Christine: I don't know. We'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out.
Erik: Why do we have to wait until the next chapter to find out?
DonaMariposa: Because I have writer's block and I need some time to think of a reason why Christine would kill Joseph Buquet...*sips drink*
Erik: Well, you're sure as hell not going to find any inspiration at the bottom of that shot glass.
DonaMariposa: You wanna quit being such a smartass?
Erik: *shrugs*
Random Fanfiction Reader: This sucks! There's no plot...
DonaMariposa: *bored* And what do you expect me to do about it?
Random Fanfiction Reader: *points finger* You are the authoress...
DonaMariposa: *chugs vodka* All right...now get the hell out of my bar... Anyway, now to appease Mr. Random Fanfiction Reader, I think it's time to make things a little more exciting... *claps hands*. ..Clap off...
Erik: Why are we sitting in the dark?
Cesar: Because the lights are off.
DonaMariposa: *turns to Cesar* What in the nine hells?
Everyone: Cesar?!? *turns to donaMariposa* Why is there a talking horse in a bar?
DonaMariposa: I may as well ask why there is a deranged, psychotic, underground living musical genius who supposed to be dead sitting in a bar.
Christine: Erik's different.
DonaMariposa: How so? Please enlighten me.
Christine: *thinks hard*
DonaMariposa: *dryly* Don't think so hard. You'll hurt yourself. Anyway, all three of you are to stop trying to get me off topic in order to postpone the torture I have planned for you. Because it will not work. Psychotic sadists such as I are not to be diverted by mere attempts to keep me talking about random, useless subjects like talking horses. And what said talking horse is doing in a bar.
Cesar: *neighs*
DonaMariposa: *rummages in coat pocket,* Aha! I have found my Handy-Dandy Tranquilizer Gun!
Raoul: *raises eyebrow* You carry a tranquilizer around with you?
DonaMariposa: It's a dangerous line of work, being a fanfiction writer. *shoots Cesar with tranquilizer gun*
Cesar: *stops mid-whinny and slumps over*
DonaMariposa: Anyway, Bartender!...another round of drinks for my friends here...and I think I'll have a Bloody Mary.
Random Bartender: And the horse?
DonaMariposa: he'll have a virgin Margarita.
Erik: He won't want Christine, then. *snickers*
*weak rimshot*
DonaMariposa: that was about the worst pun I've ever heard. But that doesn't matter, my friends from the audience. Because I am about to get my characters very drunk. And I mean very. *cackles*
Two hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-two shots of tequila later...
Raoul: *hiccup*
Erik: *slumped over on table*
Christine: *retches*
DonaMariposa: *surprisingly sober* Anyway I may as well take this opportunity to do my disclaimer. I don't own Phantom of the Opera. Or its characters. I just take them out, get them nice and drunk, and them send them back to the Opera House. But they actually belong to Gaston Leroux. And I suppose Andrew Lloyd Webber, by extension.
Christine: *looks up after she finishes vomiting* Erik, I love you...come on, Erik, do that trick you do where you throw your voice...that makes me so horny...
DonaMariposa: *highly amused* Quit slurring your words like that Christine, no one can understand you.
Christine: *leans over and vomits some more*
Random Cricket Number Two: chirp, chirp
Mme. Giry: *jumps up out of nowhere, smashing Random Cricket Number two in the process* AHH!! THE RANDOMNESS!! *clutches eyes and disappears in puff of smoke*
DonaMariposa: ?!?!?
Christine: *looks up from vomiting* What the hell was that?
DonaMariposa: How should I know?
Christine: You're the author of this fic. You control everything.
DonaMariposa: *swigs tequila* You have much to learn about the world of fanfiction, my friend. *sighs* Like I said, the art of fanfiction is a precarious business. There are several things that are beyond the control of all fanfic writers. *suddenly looks serious* like It-That-Must-Not-Be-Named...the dreaded...the feared...the terrible...*leafs through thesaurus*...the horrible...the infamous...WRITER'S BLOCK!!!!!!!!!!!...*lightning flashes and dramatic music plays, compliments of Erik sitting at bar piano*
donaMariposa: *shudders*
Christine: *confused*
Erik: *confused*
Raoul: *horny*
Random Cricket Number Three: Chirp, Chirp
DonaMariposa: *smashes Random Cricket Number Three*
Erik: Where do you get all those crickets?
DonaMariposa: *holds up jar labeled Random Crickets* I bought them on eBay.
Erik: Oh. *scratches nose*
DonaMariposa: Since it's painfully obvious that no one has anything to say, this chapter will be over. *chews on imaginary olive that came in imaginary martini* And please review on your way out. All those who review will receive a sticker. Compliments of my shitty budget that won't let me give anything other crappy pieces of adhesive paper cut into tantalizing shapes. And I haven't decided whether or not this will be a one-shot fic or not. It'll depend on the reviews I get. (Hint, hint) And I can always use any ideas you might have for the next chapter. Also, if you'd like me to email you updates, just let me know in your review. And please, no flames. If you really want to flame me, I suppose I can't stop you, but if you do...I will unleash the wrath of my army of Random Crickets upon you...a force not to be taken lightly...
Random Cricket Army: Chirp, chirp
Shitty Budget: *growl*
DonaMariposa: *pats Shitty Budget on head*