A/N: One of these days I will get back to the review-replies, but not, apparently, today. Here is the second chapter of outtakes. There will be at least one more, two if I think of anything else, a chapter of interviews, an after party, some Laments, a Where Are They Now section, and I may draft some of the people in the phic to write their own versions. Anyway. This phic looks like my absolute best chance to reach a thousand reviews. This. Is. Awesome. I thank you guys so much for reviewing, but! If you help me reach a thousand I will name my first child after all of you. The poor thing may get made fun of in school, but it'll be worth it. So if you don't mind taking a moment or two and reviewing a chapter or two that you missed, I would appreciate it so much. Thank you. Er— that is all. Goodnight, Seattle, I love ya!

Singing

They were waiting for the muffins to be brought out. Various activities had been invented in order to pass the time, mostly involving very slow chases with the Writers at one end and the Eriks at the other. Practically the entire room was revolving as the people in it edged towards and away from each other. To the participants it was maddeningly frustrating, singularly frightening, or all in good fun— to an observer, had there been an observer, it would have looked like a school of fish that I once saw at the Monterey Bay Aquarium that kept going around and around and around, all facing the same way, which meant that the scenery was the same all the time, ie. the fish-in-front-of-them's tail, which seemed monumentally pointless to me, but as I have mentioned elsewhere I enjoy pointless things, and so I spent twenty minutes watching them with total concentration.

But that's just me.

Suddenly the spell of frustration, fright, or fun was broken, as, from the kitchen, there came the sound of Pink Haze Phantom, singing.

"Pink, it was love at first sight— Pink, is like red but not quite—"

There was a second of genuine startlement, and then every single one of the people in the room burst into spontaneous laughter. It was a great moment, a moment of sharing, a moment of some unspoken, but undoubtedly deep, realization of what being human was all about, whether you were real or fictional, male or female, a writer or just a phan, an Erik or a Christine or some improbably-named phan-phic author.

Just as quickly as it came, it left again, and the circular motion that denoted frustrated desires continued, while in the Administrative Office Random Battlecry felt suddenly and inexplicably sad.

Drug Test (Chapter 9)

Everyone was peacefully eating muffins. This was unusual. Not the muffin-eating itself, which went on a surprisingly large amount of the time, but the peaceful part. This was not a normal thing to occur.

And so, it had to be disrupted, destroyed, and generally done away with.

This office was admirably filled by the policemen who came crashing into the lair, waving their night sticks and saying, "What's all this then?" like a group of Monty Python imitators.

Officer Moriarty was in charge. He tried to look down his nose at the Eriks but the fact that he was a good foot shorter than most of them didn't help.

"What's all this, then?" he asked, unoriginally.

Kay Erik stared at him balefully. "A clam bake," he said. "What does it look like?"

"A clam bake?" repeated Officer Moriarty doubtfully. He looked around the occupants of the lair, most of whom wore masks, and a few of whom were strangling some of the others. He barked a sudden laugh. "You know, fellow, for a moment I almost believed you. But no, you can't fool Timmy Moriarty, no sir. No, sir. No, sir, I say, no, sir." Here he paused and waited expectantly for Kay Erik to say something.

Which, eventually, he did.

"Ah," said Kay Erik, still doing the baleful stare, lifting his wrists in the air. "You have caught me, Officer Moriarty. It isn't really a clam bake. I lied about it being a clam bake. I've never even eaten a clam. I wouldn't know a clam from a jelly roll."

"That's what I thought," said Officer Moriarty self-importantly.

"Clearly you are too clever for me."

"Yes, well, you'd have to get up pretty early in the morning to put one over on old Timmy Moriarty."

"I daresay you'd have to stay up all night."

Officer Moriarty frowned. "I don't understand what you mean by that, sir— but come along. Come along, come along. Come along. Come along, come along, come along. Come. Along. Come along. I have it on good authority that there are illicit substances in this here basement."

Kay Erik considered this for a moment, then lifted a finger and pointed at Gerry Phantom. "That, sir, is the closest thing to illicit substances that there is here."

"Thank you," said Gerry Phantom, inordinately pleased.

"If the law requires you to confiscate him— by all means, be my guest."

"Ah, you will have your little joke, sir," said Officer Moriarty, chuckling deeply. "No, sir, I'm afraid that no matter what you say, we've got to give you all a drug test. Here and now."

"H-here and now?" faltered Kay Erik, all self-confidence suddenly wavering.

"Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"Er—"

"Bring out the equipment!" shouted Officer Moriarty, tending to business.

Kay Erik began to panic.

"I don't see what the big deal is," said Crawford Phantom prosaically. "We haven't been doing drugs."

"The muffins man, the muffins!" hissed Kay Erik. Crawford Phantom looked at him.

"Listen, I understand that the muffins are good, and that you are quite attached to them, and that they produce some quite interesting sensations in you, but really they don't qualify as an illegal substance."

"Poppy-seed!" moaned Kay Erik quietly. "We've been eating poppy-seed muffins!"

"Poppy-seed?" said Gerry Phantom. "Is that what those were? Oh, good. I am relieved. For the past few minutes I thought I was picking small bugs out of my teeth."

Kay Erik turned the baleful glare on him, but before he could do anything drastic they were rounded up and subjected to the drug test. Officer Moriarty was quite shocked by the results, needless to say, and the whole cast was carted off to jail to think about their sins and try and punjab any passing police officers.

The Pouts (Chapter 10)

Finally Random broke off kissing Gerry Phantom and smiled at him.

"I'm going to get royally punjabbed for that, I think."

"Not by me," offered Gerry Phantom, dazed.

"No, by my readers. I wasn't worried about you. You're not exactly scary." She gestured to Stalker Erik that he could put her down now, and he did, depositing her with a thump on the ground.

"Did you know," he said, looking down at her, "that when you kissed him the rest of your face was quite a ways away?"

"Oh yes? Can't say I realized it. But its to be expected, when you put the Scottish Pout and the California Pout together." Random got up off the floor. "You didn't know I was the California Pout, did you? Well, its not like Angelina Jolie's, or anything— but its fairly noticeable. Especially just after I wake up. I have been known to kiss people good morning from five inches away."

Of Forehead Kisses And Manly-Squees (Chapter 10)

"Aw, come on, Stalker Erik, you know I wouldn't have sentenced you to seduction without your permission," complained Random.

He glared at her. "However, butt-pinching is fine, I see!"

"You know perfectly well I asked permission first."

"Yes, but did I give it?"

"I— I don't remember."

"Convenient, isn't it?"

"Listen, buster, its because of me that you now have a fan club. You think you'd be this popular if it weren't for me putting you in WLIIA?"

Stalker Erik sneered down at her, and whipped out his wallet. "Allow me to show you," he said, pulling out a long string of plastic-protected pictures of various females. Most of them looked as though they'd been taken from a long ways away, being somewhat blurry and with trees in between, although there were a few mug-shots as well. "My harem."

Random softened a little as she noticed her picture prominent amongst the others. "Aw, Erik— hey, how did you get one of me in my bedroom?"

"Let us ignore that for the moment."

"Let us not. Hey. Is— is that my mother?"

Stalker Erik swiftly folded up the pictures and put them away, but not quite swiftly enough. Random was shaking with indignation.

"You and your camera! And to think that I once gave you forehead-kisses in good faith!"

"Screw your forehead-kisses," said Stalker Erik sulkily.

"Well, screw your manly-squees then!"

"Oh yeah?" said Stalker Erik, hurt.

"Yeah!" snarled Random, deeply wounded. She had found a chair to stand on, and they were now growling in each other's faces.

"Grrr."

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrr."

A pause.

"Wanna arm-wrestle?"

"Absolutely."

There was a sudden round of applause from the watchers, and the two erstwhile antagonists took a bow, smiling.

Stalker Fans (Chapter 10)

"Okay, you now have ten minutes with whatever Erik you like best," said Random, looking at her watch. "And— GO!"

There was a general rush and a startled cry from someone being trampled.

Random looked up from her wrist and beheld the Phictional Eriks standing around looking bemused and a little irritated. She frowned in confusion, looked over in the corner, and the mystery was solved.

"Hey! I mean the Phantom Eriks! Not the stalker! Leave the stalker alone!" She was ignored by everyone and just stood and shook her head at them all. "That is so wrong—"

Later, disheveled, disturbed, and secretly rather pleased, he tried to explain it to her.

"I am afflicted with being an incorrigible flirt."

"You mean you don't practice in a mirror?"

"I don't know why everyone likes me so much! I suppose it must be my animal magnetism."

"Its your animal something."

Stalking the Stalker (Chapter 10)

Random fully expects to be punjabbed for this one

As they stood watching Random ascend back to reality, or what passed for reality in her mind, Stalker Erik felt a definite presence behind his left shoulder, and whirled with cat-like grace that, unfortunately, he wasn't very good at, and which caused him to trip over his own two feet and crash ignominiously to the floor, from which he glared up at the Maiden Amorisa.

"Can I help you?"

"Mmm, mmph, mm," said The Maiden Amorisa.

Stalker Erik began to laugh. "Yes?"

"Mmm. Mmmmmmm!"

"I forgot about the glue-stick. That was clever of me, wasn't it?" He levered himself to his feet and bent over her.

"Mmph! Mmm-mm mmmmmghrmph!"

"What was that? Seduction scene?"

"Mmm-hhm!"

"Listen, kiddo, I'm not going to be seduced by someone who can't even open her mouth." He gave a thoroughly evil grin. "Where's the fun in that?"

The sheer sexual-innuendo-ness of this comment caused The Maiden Amorisa to faint dead away, and Stalker Erik quickly turned the faint into a deep coma by pinching her nostrils shut so she couldn't breathe, chuckling quietly to himself. He let go before the coma turned into death, since bodies are notoriously difficult to dispose of, and as he pulled his hand away the breath that she let out caused snot to fountain out of her nostrils, soaking her shirt and making him laugh till he choked.

Willow Rose On The Attack (Chapter 11)

"What's going on?"

"I think there's going to be a fight."

"A fight? With the fops?"

"Who else would you fight with?"

"Right!" shouted Willow Rose, and ran off to the bedroom. She returned a few seconds later armed with about twenty different knives, two swords, a matching set of punjabs, throwing stars, an entire set of kitchen knives, a sandwich, three Swiss Army knives, a bazooka, a cannon, a tank, a machine gun, and a pair of wicked-looking scissors. She made it three struggling steps before collapsing under the weight of all this equipment; but, reaching a hand from the rubble, found the lightest object she could, and hurled the sandwich at the fops with deadly accuracy and punishing force.

Something Interesting (Chapter 11)

This one goes out to Mandy—

"I demand something interesting happen!" said Songwind, taking her job as official Phic Moderator quite seriously.

"Yeah, like that'll work," said lazy.kender. "Since when does Random listen to anything we say?"

Their glances were drawn to sparklyscorpion, who was making out with her Creepy Slasher Love in the corner.

"Well, that was just the one time—"

And then their glances were drawn to Stalker Erik, who sat in the middle of the rest of the Eriks, holding forth and being generally Erik-y. Oddly enough, they were begging him for music lessons.

"Yeah, okay, so sometimes she does. But not often."

"But I'm the Phic Moderator!" said Songwind. "I've got the hat to prove it."

However, the powers that be seemed to be ignoring this, as nothing of note occurred. Mandy the O stood and sighed and shook herself.

"All I ask, Lord, is ten minutes with Kay Erik, whipped cream, a whoopie cushion, and a pair of edible handcuffs. But lets face it. Nothing's happening to us. So we'll have to go out and happen to it."

"What, to nothing?" asked VegaOfTheLyre.

"Yeah, what's the point of happening to nothing?" inquired SimplyElymas.

"I think," said Mandy slowly, "that we should do something about the fops. Make them pay for all the times they've taken Christine away from Erik."

She was eyed suspiciously.

"Wait a second," said Mademoiselle Daae. "You're an E/OW writer. You don't care about Christine. You're just looking for an excuse to do something mean to the fops!"

"Can you blame me?" said Mandy innocently.

"No—" they admitted.

"But what should we do?" asked Killthefop. "I mean, we could kill them, but that's not really that much fun once you get used to it. We could put whoopie cushions underneath them—"

"Tar and feathers," suggested le chat.

"Set their pants on fire," offered ElfLover.

"Light their farts," said ChristineX.

"Ooh!" said Mandy, her eyes alight. "That one! That one!"

"I was just joking—"

"Oh, you think I won't do it?" From a pocket Mandy drew a lighter and flicked it on and off in a meaningful way.

"But—"

"Do you dare me?"

"Well—"

"Good enough. Here I go." Mandy marched purposefully off, a grim smile on her face. She disappeared into the entrance to the labyrinth.

The rest of the Writers waited, giggling nervously.

They didn't have to wait very long.

The clicking of the lighter echoed back along the corridors till it reached them, sounding eerie; a few seconds later there was a louder click and then a sound like WHOMPH! followed by an explosion. Laughter started amidst the Writers— laughter that slowed to chuckles and then to silence as they heard the sound of flames licking at the walls. Smoke began to billow out of the entrance to the labyrinth, the Eriks took notice, and something bad was undoubtedly about to happen.

The feeling was mitigated by the sight of Mandy the O, tottering out of the labyrinth tunnel, her face soot-blackened and her clothes ragged.

"Guys," she said dazedly, "I think I burnt down the labyrinth!"

"What about the Raouls?" yelled sparklyscorpion from where she stood by her now-shirtless CSL.

"They— they went up like charcoal!" gasped Mandy. She giggled, and the giggle turned into a laugh, and the laugh turned into howling mirth. "Who— who knew—"

The good thing about laughter is its contagious in the nicest way. And the good thing about the Writers is they're quite willing to drop sanity in favor of enjoyment of a situation.

Eventually, the smoke died away, and laughter prevailed.

Phantom Library (Chapter 12)

The book was not, strangely enough, having the intended effect, and Hoshi put it down at last, somewhere in between the birth of the blueberry muffin and the addition of lemon poppyseed to the muffin canon. She got up and wandered back over to Leroux Erik, who was doing something deviant in a corner.

She watched him for a moment.

"Why," she said, "are you voting liberal?"

He jumped and swung round to glare at her.

"Can I help you— mademoiselle?"

"Yes. Are you sure you don't have any books other than these?"

He stared at her, and then indicated his bedroom with a sweep of his arm. "You are welcome to look."

"Thanks," said Hoshi, "I think I will." She went through the door, which had her name on it, and located a small bookshelf. For lack of anything better to do, she began to read off the titles out loud.

"Life With Muffins— The Muffin Man— Late Lamented Lemons, the Collected Poetical Works of Erik duPrie— Muffin with a Pearl Earring— the Hitch Hikers Guide to Lemon Poppyseed Muffins— Lord of the Muffins: Return of the Blueberry— Good Muffins— Muffins Adverse— Captains Muffins— Muffin on a Hot Tin Roof— Roget's Thesaurus?" Shaking her head and muttering something bad about Leroux Erik's taste in literature, she went back to bed.

Nightmares (Chapter 12)

Stalker Erik was having bad dreams. He dreamt that he was in the midst of a crowd of people, and they were all trying to pinch him. He awoke with a scream and sat up, trying to catch his breath.

"What's wrong, darling?" asked The Maiden Amorisa, sitting up besides him and laying a hand on his shoulder.

He awoke from that nightmare, too, screaming, and sat bolt upright in the lair. Kay Erik sat up next to him.

"What's wrong, darling?"

This, too, turned out to be a nightmare, and, as usual, he awoke with a scream. There was a rustle as Random sat up next to him. "What's wrong, darling?"

He screamed and screamed, but this time, unfortunately, it was real.

Gerry/Patrick Singing Contest (Chapter 12)

Emmy Christine finally stopped singing "Seventy-Six Trombones" when Gerry Phantom clapped a hand over her mouth. He glared at Patrick Raoul.

"By rights, you should be dead."

"Which rights?" demanded Patrick Raoul, looking confused.

"My rights!" howled Gerry Phantom.

"You have rights?"

"I have rights— and lefts!"

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Who cares, fop!"

"I am not a fop!" screamed Patrick Raoul shrilly, his hands clenched, his eyes shut tight, and tears seeping down his face, rather undermining his claim.

"You are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Ha!"

Patrick Raoul opened his eyes and glared at Gerry Phantom. "That's it, I challenge you to a duel."

"Fine," said Gerry Phantom, before he remembered that he had lost the last several duels he had been in. "I mean— "

"A singing duel," said Patrick Raoul triumphantly.

"Very well," snapped Gerry Phantom, and then remembered the argument they'd just had and started sniggering.

"Ready? Go!" said Patrick Raoul. They both started to sing "All I Ask Of You," because it was the only song that Patrick Raoul knew. Gerry Phantom screwed up almost immediately because he was still giggling over the argument they'd had.

There was silence and shock in the lair.

EriksAngel1870 turned to A-Lonely-Dreamer-56.

"Did Gerry Phantom just— lose?"

"That's unusual."

"Don't worry," called the voice of Random. "Its just an excuse to have Gerry Phantom kick Patrick Raoul's butt, as was repeatedly requested by my bloodthirsty reviewers."

Gerry Kicks Patrick's Butt (Chapter 12)

A Logical Extension of the Last Outtake

Gerry Phantom advanced on Patrick Raoul, who took one look at the expression on his face and said, "Meep?"

He then had his butt savagely kicked.

Repeatedly.

Sigh.

Happy now?

Random Takes Over The World (Chapter 12)

In the Administrative Office, Random was trying to work out her writer's block by constructive cursing, receiving a neck massage from Rik Mayall, and beating on Hoshi with a muffin.

"I can't believe— bleep— oh man that feels good— muffin! —that this is happening to me. Look, when I control the world, there will be a dearth of Writer's Block."

"A dearth?" said phantomzgerl. "That sounds interesting."

"Also I will make it a three-day week."

"Can you make it where guitar strings don't break any more?" grunted Masque de Nuit from the corner, where he'd gone through an entire packet.

"Absolutely, my good man. Busted guitar strings shall be a thing of the past. Any other requests?"

"Ooh! I want to marry Leroux Erik!"

"Thank you for that, ElfLover, I knew you wouldn't let me down. Anything else?"

"Boss, when you take over the world, can I have— my name— on a door?"

Random raised her eyebrows. "A door? Your boss takes over the world and all you ask for is one measly door? Dear, sweet, simple Hoshi— think big. Think big. You can have your name— on three doors."

"Gee, thanks boss!"

"Now go get me my shoes, and stand still while I hit you with a muffin."

"Right away, boss."

Cuddles (Chapter 12)

Life was grand.

The Eriks had suddenly had a change of heart, against all reason and dictates of personality, and had lines of their phans waiting to come to them for hugs and kisses and cuddles and a few heavier make-out sessions, according to inclination. It didn't make any sense, but it made the readers happy.

Take it as read that YOU were in EXACTLY the line you wanted to be in, and that YOUR ERIK was waiting for you SPECIFICALLY and was intending to declare himself IN LOVE with YOU.

Unfortunately, everyone took that last sentence as reality and fights broke out amongst the Writers over the idea of owning an Erik, any Erik, exclusively.

Stalker Erik sat on one of the abandoned lawn chairs, having written himself a glass of red wine. He leaned back and lifted his glass in salute to the Writers who were wrestling on the ground.

"This," he said comfortably, "is why I have a harem."

Random walked in and observed the chaos happily, humming "A Few of My Favourite Things." After a moment she burst into song.

"Eriks and Christines and horses and fops/ chaos and punjabs and Raouls that go pop/ muffins and stalkers and carrot cake/ all this is there in the lair beyond the lake— hey! No hair pulling! Hair pulling is restricted! Knock it off."

"You've created some monsters," said Stalker Erik.

"I know, isn't it great? They're all insane, you know."

"And you say this as though you are your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, walkabout rational-thinking common normal human being, hmm?"

"No. I am many things, but one thing I am not is hypocritical." Random looked pleased with herself. "Sanity is so overrated, you see—"

"I see."

"Sanity didn't get me six hundred reviews, that's for sure."

"No, toadying to your readers did," said Stalker Erik pleasantly.

"Watch it. I'll go back and replace all references to Stalker with— something else humorous and detrimental to your image, which I can't be bothered to think up right now. Right, that's about enough." Random quietly got the attention of the main Eriks. They tore their gazes away from the still-wrestling and biting and scratching and chewing and screeching and pinching and punching and kicking Writers, and came over to her warily.

"What is it?"

"Time to go," said Random brightly. "If this works, this is how I'll end the phic. Leave them all behind, and take you with me. How's about it?"

The Eriks exchanged glances.

"Would you— bind us in any way?" said Kay Erik suspiciously.

"Not unless you asked me to."

"And we wouldn't be forced to endure your squeeing?" asked Crawford Phantom.

"All told, I do less squeeing than your average young, ignored female," said Random with an innocent smile.

"And would you ask me to strip-tease for you?" inquired Gerry Phantom with a frown. "Because— you know— I think I could be quite good at it if I got the practice."

"At least once a week," said Random. "If you really must."

She turned to Leroux Erik.

"And— what about you?" she asked in halting, disjointed French, her face serious for once. "You are the one that matters the most, really."

He stared at her for a moment.

"Do you have— muffins?"

"Only if you want them."

"I do not."

"Then there will be no muffins."

Leroux Erik thought about this, then nodded. "Lead on, I say."

Random smiled with pure joy. As she turned away she caught sight of Stalker Erik, on his second glass of wine.

"And you?"

Stalker Erik thought for a moment, put the glass down and raised his eyebrows at her. "You want me too?"

"You're an Erik. Plus we've been pretend-married for, like, a month now. We could use an anniversary trip."

He appeared to be thinking about it when The Maiden Amorisa rose from the lair, dripping wet, her hair streaming with duckweed, her face contorted and blue from drowning. She'd been zombified. Such, as has been repeatedly mentioned, is the power of fiction.

She made straight for Stalker Erik, her arms outstretched, her eyes wide.

"Must— pinch— the stalker's— "

Stalker Erik rose from his chair with alacrity and ran after Random and the other Eriks, calling to them to wait.

"I knew you'd change your mind," said Random, smugly. "I am— irresistible!"

"Just you keep telling yourself that."

And they walked off into the sunset, five Eriks and a Random, despite the fact that they were still five stories underground at the time and there wasn't any sun to set.

Random's voice floated back to the still-fighting Writers in the lair, all oblivious to the fact that the main Eriks had gone.

"Such is the power—"