Only a few replies, this time:
phantomzgerl: Ah, so now I'm abnormal, am I:) Well, you're not the first to have noticed...
Solitaire-Me: Yeah, I'm taking it longer... it was meant to be just a one-shot, but with the great reviews I'm getting, I don't think I can let it go quite yet...
LadyKate1: Thank you! You called it a classic! Thank you so much!
Tango1: Fops in the next chapter... maybe...
YoukoElfMaiden: 500 was just a random number I picked. There is an Erik for every Christine, or Christine equivalent. I made it that many because I'm including every different stage-Phantom in along with the movie Phantoms and books and everything else...
sparklyscorpion: Ah, the longest review I have ever gotten, thank you SO much! And I think someone did kick Gerry to make him reach those notes... it just cracks me up so bad every time I see or hear it. I laugh through the rest of the MotN sequence... it's awful.
MindGame: according to the reviews, EVERYONE thinks Brightman wobbled too much! Er... her voice, that is...:)
Christine Persephone: I hope you love it, not hate it... cuz hate is bad, y'know... and most of this chapter is written based on your review, so I guess you deserve a CHAPTER DEDICATION!
VegaOfTheLyre: Comedy is harder than angst, but its also funner and more rewarding. Well, except for phics like "Demons" and "An Eternity of This" which have like five zillion reviews...(grumble)
Mandy the O: Maaaaaandy! Updaaaaaaate!
Adison: can it be carrot cake? I like carrot cake.
Phan-phic writers: If you want a mention in the next chapter, let me know. Especially you PFNers, you can tell me on PFN if you want... I soooo look forward to wreaking havoc with the cadre of PFN phic-writers... (evil giggle)
Chapter Three
Could nothing save them now?
Let us examine that question.
Better yet, let us let the Eriks examine that question.
"Oh nooo," moaned Crawford Phantom, "can nothing save us now?"
There was a pause while everyone thought about this.
"No," said Kay Erik. "Nothing. Except— wait, what's this switch?" He lunged wildly at something beyond their eyesight.
"What switch? Where?" said Gerry Phantom, whirling expectantly.
"No, I was only joking," said Kay Erik. "Nothing can save us after all."
Crawford Phantom chuckled obediently, Leroux Erik lapsed from his liplock with Real Christine long enough to make a despairing groan, and Gerry Phantom was silent for a moment before saying, "I don't get it."
Kay Erik heaved a sigh. "It was a joke," he said. "In bad taste, I admit."
"Alright, but I don't see how it was a joke."
"I pretended there was something to save us when in fact there wasn't," said Kay Erik patiently. "God, I hate having to explain myself! And having to explain myself to another version of myself— that, frankly, is just downright embarrassing."
"Okay," said Gerry Phantom, frowning, "but how was that a joke?"
"It was just irony! Irony, you ought to recognize irony. What do you call it when you go to burn your mother's house down only to find that she died three days ago?"
There was a general brow-furrowing on the part of every Erik in earshot, and most of them said, "What?"
"Irony! That's what you call it! Irony!"
"And irony is supposed to be funny, is it?" said Gerry Phantom, brow savagely furrowed.
"Yes!"
"Oh."
"Can nothing save us now?" reiterated Crawford Phantom, to bring them back to the issue at hand.
"Yes, that switch," said Gerry Phantom before anyone could stop him. Leroux Erik broke from his kiss with Real Christine and bashed Gerry Phantom over the head with his shoe.
"I am not insane!" he howled.
"Eriiiiik!" said Real Christine.
He returned his attention to her immediately. "The angles wept tonight, my dear—"
"The angles?" said Crawford Phantom alertly.
"Sorry, typo," said the writer, whom everyone ignored.
The horde of Phic Christines and their Keepers stood just inside the door and gaped at the Eriks with hungry eyes. At the moment they were too stunned by the presence of their beloveds to move, but the Eriks knew this wouldn't last.
Crawford Phantom asked quietly, "Is this hell, then?"
"Life is hell," said Kay Erik. "Don't ever let anyone tell you any different."
Crawford Phantom rolled his eyes. "And this from one of the few versions that actually got to do it with Christine—"
"That was supposed to be a secret!"
"I don't know," said Gerry Phantom. "I always thought hell was a place where people were doomed to repeat all five thousand identical verses of 'Masquerade.'"
"Oh yes, that's right. I forgot."
"Masquerade?" said Kay Erik irritably.
"It's a song," said Gerry Phantom. "You'll find it listed in the Bible right after the other ten plagues." He then ducked and looked around as though he expected to find Andrew Lloyd Webber coming after him with a whip.
"Why," demanded Kay Erik, still irritably, "did you do that—" He imitated the ducking.
"Because I expected to see Andrew Lloyd Webber coming after me with a whip," said Gerry Phantom frankly.
"What? Why?" said Crawford Phantom, spreading his arms in a well-practiced gesture that was big enough to be seen at the back of the lair— he'd been theatre-trained, and most of his movements were exaggerated.
"Because every time I complained about the music, he would hit me with a whip— I thought it was a game at first, but then he started raising welts, so I stopped changing the words of "Music of the Night."
"What did you change them to?" demanded Crawford Phantom, but Gerry Phantom only blushed.
"He didn't hit Christine, though— he said she was too valuable."
Slowly their gazes were drawn back to Emmy Christine, who stood with her usual expression and her mouth gaping open. Brightman Christine, while she hadn't had time to inflict real damage, had managed to give her a black eye, but as Emmy Christine's eyes were slathered in makeup anyway it didn't really show. She looked the same as always— and there was a morbid fascination to the Look, like rubber-necking at a car wreck.
"I'll bet," said Kay Erik slowly and speculatively, "that she could fit an entire blueberry muffin in there without noticing."
The other Eriks nodded slowly.
Gerry Phantom looked around. "Got any blueberry muffins in this place?"
"I am not insane!"
"Do you ever say anything other than that, Erik?"
"I have no blueberry muffins!"
"I guess that answers that question."
There was a bit of a pause. Then Leroux Erik shouted, "I have lemon poppyseed ones!"
There was a general chorus of , "Ah, that'll work," from the other Eriks, Gerry Phantom rubbing his hands together in a businesslike manner.
"Fetch forth the muffins, then, my good man, if you please, so to speak, as it were— I've always wanted to try this."
Kay Erik glared at him. "It was my idea!"
"Well, actually, I had wondered something of the sort, during filming, but never plucked up the courage to ask her, really."
"It was still my idea!"
"Fine," said Gerry Phantom, sighing, "whatever."
"Don't give me 'whatever.' It was my bloody idea!"
Leroux Erik returned silently with the muffins and offered them to Gerry Phantom. Kay Erik pushed Gerry Phantom out of the way, still glaring at him, and took the muffin plate himself. Choosing an exceptionally large one, he picked it up and began to inch it towards the cavern that was Emmy Christine's exceptionally large mouth.
All would have been doom and muffins for Emmy Christine had this experiment been allowed to continue, but at that moment the spell that had been holding the Phans and Phictionalized Christines transfixed was broken, and they began to rush forward into the lair.
Chaos ensued.
