After a period of devoting myself purely to original stories, I had to take a break and write this. What has drawn me to it, you may be wondering? I thought Daroga's Rainy Daae was dead, you might have believed? It's true, it's been a while. But something happened that I just had to tell everyone about. Here's the scoop.
I was sitting at my computer, typing up a story about a couple of rivals named Eduard Kapin and Julius Quade, when I got a knock at the door. Of course I was clothed only in my pajamas and bathrobe (I mean, c'mon, it WAS the weekend) but I decided to answer, anyway. Clad in pink and cherries, I proudly swung open the door only to come face to face with Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny. My jaw dropped.
"What are you doing here?" I'd asked him, staggering back. He did not look all that calm, himself.
"So you recognize who I am?" he responded. "Good. I need to talk to you. I was informed that you were the only person who can help me."
Of course I was flattered. I decided to let him in so he could get to the bottom of things, and as I offered my hand to introduce myself, he took it and kissed it politely. Oh my god, why can't guys be like that these days? It's good sometimes to have a run in with a 19th century gentleman. Keeps a good girl from going insane.
So Raoul entered my house and began to explain why he was there.
"I have come all the way from 19th century Paris to ask of you a tremendous favor," he said, sitting at my dinner table and turning down a cup of coffee.
"Sex," I said, nodding in understanding. The man was taken aback and I burned with embarrassment.
"Pardon me!" Raoul cried. "That's not it at all! I have come to ask you to interview me."
"Why?" I inquired, seating myself next to the young man and inconspicuously checking him out.
"As I've told you before," Raoul said, standing suddenly in a moment of excitement, beginning to pace. "You are the only one I trust to ask the right questions."
"I'd be honored," I replied, making up my mind. I already had about fifty questions lined up in my head.
"Thank you!" Raoul said, taking my by the hand and shaking it rigorously. "Thank you so much! Maybe now people will finally see the other side of me. When can we start?"
I left the room to check my schedule. January was completely blank save for a small note in the 23rd box that said 'make more notes sometime.'
I returned, sighing deeply. "I'm booked 'til next October, but I guess I can squeeze you in."
"When?" Raoul asked, holding his breath.
"Right now," I answered, shrugging. "Just let me get my pen and paper, and we'll start." I ran to my room, grabbed a pen, shoved my cat off a small notebook, and rushed back downstairs, where Raoul waited on the couch in the living room. "Right. Let's get started."
---
DRD: Why do you think you deserve Christine?
R: That's an age-old question that has been debated for more than a century, and frankly I didn't suspect you to ask it. If you would kindly proceed on to the next question, we can continue.
DRD: What questions am I supposed to ask you, genius?
R: Questions that you would ask anybody that would get you to know them better. I want people to know me for who I really am. Not just for the stereotypical fop.
DRD: What is your idea of a perfect date?
R: That's more like it.
DRD: But that's boring.
R: Just ask the damn questions.
DRD: Am I getting paid for this?
R: …
DRD: All right. What's your IQ? I'm sure everyone wants to know that.
R: 155. Most people wouldn't expect that of me, but I'm very high above average intelligence. Several works of fan fiction have exploited my character as dumb. One author had me amazed that the stairs go both up and down.
DRD: Frankly, that was hilarious.
R: I'm not asking you. Anyway, I have several philosophies on life and the universe, I studied at Sorbonne and I can solve a Rubix Cube in mere seconds. I assure you, anything you heard about me being stupid, is blasphemy.
DRD: What are some of your philosophies on life?
R: That love is never inevitable. For example, one would never expect a creature like that phantom to have feelings.
DRD: Is it true that you are a pompous slime ball, then?
R: Absolutely not. I have a perfectly good outlook on others for the mentality of my time. I do admit I am a bit shallow, but I have learned from my mistakes and have been proved that no matter how funky you look, you still can be the same on the inside.
DRD: And that's remarkable for your time? God forbid there ever was an 1800s version of Chris Farley.
R: I don't know where you're going with this. Just stick to asking questions.
DRD: All right, all right. So what do you think about the modern toaster oven? And why?
R: It's quite convenient. I love putting those French toast sticks in them, because you really can't eat them any other way. They get soggy in the microwave, it takes too long in the oven, and they clog up the toaster. Toaster ovens are the best.
---
There was suddenly another knock on the door that alerted my attention. I had become so bored with these questions that I was nearly falling asleep. Raoul on the other hand, was quite happy about the whole thing. I was thankful that I got to take a break.
"Just one moment, Raoul," I said, running to get the door. I swung it open and my jaw dropped. Standing on the porch was Erik, clad in black and glaring at me through yellow eyes behind a silk mask. His cape billowed out behind him.
"Erik," I stuttered. "What are you doing here? I mean - how long have you been in town? And how does your cape billow like that without any wind!?"
"Silence," he whispered melodically, hushing me instantly with a raise of his hand. A cloud passed over the sun and he stepped into my house, pushing me aside, gently.
"Hey!" I protested. "What do you want?" A million ideas suddenly leapt into my brain, and every single one of them involved body chocolate.
"You know what I want," Erik said, whipping around and backing me against the door. I held my breath as his face was an inch from my own. "I want you to make hot, steamy, passionate-" My eyes widened and I nodded for him to continue. "-Russian tea."
He swirled around and my face fell as he strutted into the kitchen.
"You won't find any," I called after him. "Bastard…"
"Hey!" Raoul shouted from the living room. "Who's here? Did you forget about my interview?"
"Who is that?" Erik asked, running out of the kitchen toward the voice. "I demand to know who just said." He flew into the living room to come face to face with his sworn enemy.
"Oh god," I muttered.
"You!" Erik yelled with passion. "What are you doing here!?"
"When was it your concern!?" Raoul retorted.
"Let me inform you, monsieur, that this is a residential area! You are not supposed to be within twenty feet-"
"That's none of your business!" the viscount cried with ardor. "Miss D.R. Daae is conducting an interview with me!"
"Oh! Dear me, she's conducting an-" Erik stopped, cocked his head then swooped to face me. "An interview, you say? Why! Let me join."
"Okay," I squeaked, quite flabbergasted by the whole ordeal.
"Start!" Erik barked.
---
DRD: All right, this one's for Raoul. Are you part of any good-standing organization?
R: I've done some bell-ringing for the Salvation Army at Christmas-time with a couple of school girls volunteering, and-
P: Oh, please. Hey. Hey! How come my acronym is a P!
R: Oh, get over it.
DRD: I'm sorry, Erik. But most people know you as Phantom. Terribly sorry.
P: Damn you.
DRD: Okay. Next question. Erik. What is YOUR IQ?
P: 199.
DRD: Oh yeah? And how long does it take you to solve a Rubix Cube?
P: MERE seconds.
R: Prove it!
P: I will! Fetch the cubes!
---
I interrupted the interview yet again, this time to run to the basement to hunt for a couple of Rubix Cubes. I retrieved a dusty one with peeling stickers that still worked, and a fairly new one that my sister had recently bought. I tromped back upstairs to find Raoul and Erik pitching comebacks at each other.
"You, sir, are unmannered."
"You soil your hands. On purpose!"
"You wear pink with red. PINK with RED."
"You're not so perfect, Mr. I've-Got-Hundreds-Of-Dollars-Invested-In-Operas,-Patron-Of-Any-Fool-Ridden-Box-Just-To-Impress-"
"If you wouldn't mind!" I shouted, rolling my eyes at their pussy insults. "Here are your silly cubes. Amuse yourselves." I chucked them at the men and flopped foppishly onto the couch. Because my English teacher has concluded that fops of the late 1800s flopped quite a bit. Onto divans.
BATTLE OF THE RUBIX CUBES In 5 4 3 2.
1!
"Ah!" Erik shouted, twisting his cube.
"Gr!" Raoul boomed, twisting his, too.
"It's going to be a close one, folks! Who will win this trying battle? The suspense is killing me! Raoul finished the yellow side! Erik is trying to complete his first full side! He is working on red and we are past the ten second mark… This is going to be a close match, people, a CLOSE match!" I commentated, figuring, why not? It was the match of the century. Damn, I'm boring.
Sweat began to pour down Raoul's face in torrents. A vein popped out on Erik's forehead. Both were looking mighty gross and strained, and they were both completing the fourth side to their cubes.
"Two sides left to go! This is crazy! Ladies and gentlemen, who will WIN?" I bellowed, crouching underneath the two men to look up at the cubes, raising my hand and preparing to slam it down.
Raoul's fingers began to shake as he finished his fifth side and twisted frantically. Erik's fingers flew calmly and gracefully around the cube and he was halfway done with his sixth side.
"Twenty seconds! Twenty seconds in!" I remarked, breathlessly, my hand steady above the carpet.
In slow motion, both men synchronically completed the second row of the last side. Erik saw his last row. So did Raoul. Both went in for the final color, twisting, twisting, twisting-!
SUDDENLY!
Raoul dropped his cube!
He cursed like this; "SHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTDAAAAAAAAAMMMMNNNNNIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTT!!!" (Because it was in slow motion.)
He dove to catch it, but it was already too late. By the twenty-seventh second mark, Erik had completed his Rubix Cube. I slammed my hand on the ground.
"TIME!" I shouted. "Erik is the winner!"
Erik gave a mighty war cry and fell exhausted into the sofa. Raoul banged his fist into the ground and muttered under his breath.
---
DRD: Erik! How does it feel to show Raoul whose the man?
P: It feels great, Ma'm'selle, it feels exhilarating.
DRD: Do you have any tips for aspiring Rubix Cube masters?
P: Well, you just have to give it 110. You know? I'm very dedicated to what I do.
DRD: What's your secret?
P: My hands. My sexy, mysterious hands.
---
"I think that's all the time I have," I said, ending the interview abruptly.
"Wait," Erik said, blinking. "Why?"
"Because I want you. I WANT you. I want YOU," I cried, leaping into him.
"What!" he shouted.
"What, indeed!" Raoul agreed, taking me under the armpits and throwing me off of Erik. "Now do you consider that ladylike behavior?"
"No, but I can make it up to you," I said, licking my teeth.
"This girl is insane. Let's get out of here," Raoul said, eyes wide. And with that, both Raoul le Victome de Chagny and Erik Something-or-Other left the house, and I sat quietly in the living room, thinking silently to myself. Perhaps I should not have come on to them so blatantly. Perhaps I should have taken things slower. Needless to say, I immediately made my way to the studio and typed out everything you see here and more, but some things just aren't allowed to be shown on a public website.
Thank you.