lazy.kender: no, it ends. Soon.
Ludivine: Fine, fine, you're in. But keep the muffins.
Musique et Amour: (stares at him for a minute) ...splendiferous? Never in my life would I call Gerry Phantom "splendiferous." So, running the risk of offending you by giving you ambiguous compliments, perhaps you win on that front?
DarkPriestessofAssimbya: No, TMA didn't want to be killed. I took her life in my hands, so to speak. And I forgot to reply to you last time that, yes, I love LOTR. Especially Pippin. And it was the start of my crush on David Wenham— I have two LOTR fics and about five Van Helsing ones, if that gives you any indication. Feel free to check them out! Feel free-er to review them!
Baffled Seraph: Why, thank you!
Dimac99: Hmm... Gerry in a yellow towel... you know, if it had been Kay Erik I would have taken you up on that?
Melissa Brandybuck: That was— entertaining. Thank you.
LuvinLivnReadn: Sequel, what there is of it, is on PPN: poto phans (dot) net.
L'ange d'Erik: Well, I had fun. You'll have to ask the writers themselves.
La Foamy: I know! I squeeee for my reviewers!
mithril2014: Um— nope!
The Maiden Amorisa: Okay, so now you owe me, right?
ElfLover: Everybody's at the after party. Even the dead people, which is why you should be careful where you put your hand when you're dancing. Just some friendly advice—
Last Chapter: The After Party
There should be an after party for everything, including life. Unfortunately, there isn't, but there is at least an after party for Whose Lair Is It Anyway? And its attended by everyone who is anyone, and quite a few people who are not.
It took some convincing by their agents, but finally the Eriks condescended to go and mingle for a few moments, provided there was plenty to drink. Of course once they got there they were swamped with reporters, and phans, and reporters who were phans, and phans who were reporters, which covers most but not all of the people they were swamped by.
The Writers were there as well, basking in their new-found celebrity status. The Reviewers went around autograph-begging. Copious amounts of alcohol were being consumed, and it was only seven in the evening. The DJ hadn't even started playing music yet. Rooklyn mentioned as much to ChristineX.
"The DJ hasn't even started playing music yet," she said.
"Oh? I didn't notice."
Reporters circled the crowd like hungry animals, albeit hungry animals with pencils and notebooks. "Whose Lair" had unexpectedly been the hit of the year, and was attracting a lot of attention, although not, to Random's regret, that of any publishing houses.
The Eriks had gathered early, pushed in by their agents, trapped into tuxedos and, despite the fact that they wore evening wear almost exclusively, looking uncomfortable. The Writers came in a variety of styles, ranging from Hoshi, who had managed to secure the last little black dress left in Hollywood, to Scarlet Red Rose who had borrowed her brother's Toledo Squirrels mascot outfit, to Stalker Erik who was looking tall, dignified, and rather pale in a pitch-black tuxedo with long tails that, he said, did wonders for his complexion. There was a lot of milling around complimenting each other on their performances, and then a great deal of discussion on the subject of clothes, led by Mandy the O, who was clearly in her element. Jackie and YoukoElfMaiden went off to tip the limo drivers, Le Chat kicked the bartender out of the way and renamed the place "Erik's Other Fuzzy Navel," and the business of drinking hot chocolate and dancing was gotten underway.
Random herself showed up on a horse. For a while everyone thought that it was just a stylish entrance, but then she started telling people it was because her battered black Volvo wouldn't start. Again. This led to a tangent in which she bemoaned the fact that she paid her brother twice what the stupid car was worth, and from which she was distracted only by a reporter asking her who she was wearing.
She looked at the reporter, and then looked at Hoshi and Adison.
"Clothes have names?"
"She means who made it," said Hoshi helpfully.
"Ah." She turned her gaze back to the reporter. She seemed to be practicing her version of Kay Erik's baleful stare and, despite being a small and generally unimposing young woman, was getting quite good at it. "I don't know. I bought it in a thrift shop. Do you want to check the tag? I'm sure its still on here somewhere." The reporter hurried away and Random chuckled to herself.
"Did you really buy that in a thrift shop?" asked Adison.
"No."
"Really."
"I made it." She twirled solemnly. It was a black dress, short-sleeved, fell halfway to her calves, where old-fashioned buttoned boots took over. Her hair had been convinced to wave, and rippled down to the backs of her knees smoothly, though it was sure to be tangled within the next two minutes. Her skin was still winter-pale, there was a conspicuous lack of makeup, and she looked slightly ethereal and more grown-up than she ever had before. She betrayed this illusion immediately by spying Stalker Erik and giving him a sisterly punch on the shoulder.
"Ow," he said.
"You owe me a dance, at some point," she told him. "Don't forget." Spotting Gerry Phantom in the distance, she went off to claim a hello kiss. Quite a few of the Writers in attendance had done this same thing. Several times.
Kay Erik found himself presiding over a group of businessmen who had volunteered, rather late in the game, to be the financial backers of "Whose Lair." Mostly they were drinking champagne and chortling over how much Random owed them. One of them had the audacity to strike Kay Erik on the back in an overly friendly manner.
"Good show, eh?" he said gleefully. "Money to be made here— money money money."
Kay Erik did the baleful at him.
"I so hate you all," he said. That was as much warning as he gave them. Soon after, the businessmen had been artfully punjabbed, and Kay Erik had unwittingly done Random a tremendous favor, as it meant that she now didn't have to pay anyone back.
Crawford Phantom had found a microphone and was spontaneously recording a new CD with Britney Spears, leading to some serious outcry when the public found out. He redeemed himself, partially, by unapologetically punjabbing her. Based simply on these two examples, punjabbing someone would appear to be the best way to get yourself out of trouble.
Leroux Erik holed himself up in a corner for a bit and composed a song of such beauty that any human would die of hearing it. With a wicked grin beneath the mask, he went to try it out on some of his more annoying phangirls.
A good thing about a party where most of the men are musical geniuses is that everyone knows how to dance. Le Chat waltzed past clutched tightly in the arms of her beloved harem mater.
"Good kitty, kitty, kitty," murmured Stalker Erik to her, scratching her behind the ears. Le Chat made an aborted purring attempt and said, "Mmmm," instead.
"Harem master, you like me better than Random, right?"
"Of course, my dear," said Stalker Erik. "You are my absolute favourite."
The waltz changed abruptly to the Squirrel Nut Zippers because Random threatened the DJ. A few seconds later she was swinging with Leroux Erik.
"Oh, sure," she called in answer to someone's question, "My clothes smell of death for days afterwards. But its worth it— he's got great rhythm!"
Kay Erik, having killed all the businessmen, found himself forced to dance with several of his phangirls, first Mandy, then Ludivine, then more and more— he dealt with this by adopting a bored expression, replying in monosyllables, and trying to hypnotize them with his eyes. For the most part, it worked, but had the unlooked-for result of, instead of making them want to go sleep it off, making them clumsy dancers who stepped on his feet and held his shoulders rather too tightly. Whilst the Kay phangirls were waiting in line, several of them got up a can-can routine. They were quite good at it, and provided much-needed entertainment, especially when Celtic Heart tripped over her own feet and fell against Killthefop, who fell against VictoriaTai, leading to a domino effect and a heap of phangirls on the floor, groaning. However, not even this, it seemed, could pull Kay Erik out of his bad mood.
The Maiden Amorisa had browbeaten Stalker Erik into trying to do the tango. It was entirely the wrong song for a tango, but she insisted nonetheless.
"Fun, isn't it?"
"It'd be funner if you didn't keep stepping on my feet."
She laughed. "You're so funny."
"Not on purpose," said Stalker Erik with a grunt.
"Hubby, you like me better than Random, don't you? After all, I was your first wife."
"Of course," he replied out of a misplaced sense of gallantry. She squealed with delight and tried to stick her tongue in his ear but he stomped on her foot just in time to distract her.
Several phangirls were trying to dance with Gerry Phantom at once. Crawford Phantom, who was making the rounds with wine glass in hand, stopped to watch.
"Help me, man!" said Gerry Phantom to him, trying to detach Willow Rose's arms from around his neck.
"What would you wish me to do?" asked Crawford Phantom.
"Tell me what to do to get them to stop choking me! Or at least to leave my trousers alone!"
"I would suggest," said Crawford Phantom coolly, "that you distract them with some type of game."
"Like what?"
"Girls!" said Crawford Phantom loudly, clapping his hands. "Girls! May I have your attention, please?" The attention duly gotten, he went on to outline his idea. "There are far too many of you. Gerry Phantom could never give each of you the attention you truly deserve. Perhaps you could all stand in a circle around him— that's it, a nice neat circle— and now Gerry Phantom will close his eyes— close your eyes, monsieur— and I will spin him about, and now that he is sufficiently dizzy and disoriented— please do not vomit on my waistcoat, monsieur— he will keep his eyes closed, and pick one of you, and that one will dance with him for the next song. Alright? Alright. Its all good. Go to it."
"I don't know—" said Gerry Phantom, still looking slightly sick, walking around with his eyes closed and fingers twitching. "Is this a good idea?"
"Of course it is," said Crawford Phantom. "All my ideas are good ideas."
"But suppose I end up with the Maiden Amorisa or something? She tried to take my shirt off last time, you know."
"Currently, she is attempting that same trick on the one they call the stalker, monsieur, so I would wager she will be preoccupied for a good while yet."
"But—"
"You try my patience!" snapped Crawford Phantom. "Make your choice!"
"Fine," said Gerry Phantom with a sigh, turned around once more, reached out and grabbed hold of an arm. "I found someone." He opened his eyes and looked into the face of Crawford Phantom, who looked distinctly peeved.
"Obviously, we will have to do it again," he said.
"No, don't make me close my eyes again!"
"Why not?"
"I'm afraid of the dark!"
"A Phantom is afraid of the dark?"
"Look, we all have issues—"
"Dance!" The chant started in the midst of the phangirls who stood watching them. "Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance!"
"You called?" said Charles Dance alertly, and was beaten into submission.
Gerry Phantom looked at Crawford Phantom and shrugged. Crawford Phantom looked at Gerry Phantom and snarled.
"May I have this—"
"Hold my wineglass," Crawford Phantom ordered YoukoElfMaiden, and the two Phantoms walked onto the dance floor. "And don't think that this means I like you, because I don't."
There was some confusion from the very beginning, but it was mostly sorted out by the time they both yelled, "Stop trying to lead!"
Some minutes later the party was crashed by a pretend viscount in a waistcoat and a Speedo with musical notes on the crotch, but this is an inside joke and should be ignored by everyone who doesn't get it. Take it as read that Stalker Erik lost his temper, took the young man outside, and beat the crap out of him.
Random, meanwhile, was ignoring the fact that she was too young to drink, and ignoring it rather badly. She finally had to be pried away from the champagne bottle, given some black coffee, and slapped around a bit before she stopped giggling.
"How do you feel?" asked Ludivine.
"A bit maudlin and sentimental," she admitted, sobering slightly.
"No, I mean— physically."
"That's a rather personal question, isn't it?" asked Random with an outraged glare.
Ludivine, wisely, gave up.
"I can't believe this is over," Random said. "All these chapters— all these weeks— all those reviews— those lovely reviews— those lovely, lovely reviews—"
"Snap out of it," said Adison harshly. "The press is beginning to take notice."
Random sobered abruptly and shook herself. "Right. I just— depression. Sorry. Happens every time I finish a story."
"Well then maybe," said Hoshi, "you shouldn't write."
Random stared intensely at her.
"What a fantastic idea."
The party was swinging, the room full of noise and action, sparklyscorpion danced by in a tight clinch with Erik Destler, Mandy was now being effectively wooed by Gerry Phantom, and Random pulled her pen out of nowhere and, symbolically, dropped it.
Instantly the room winked out of existence and all there was left was a blank space on the page.
At least there would be if Fan Fiction dot net wasn't against that sort of thing.
Then the small and forlorn voice of Hoshi came, like a ghost's echo.
"I didn't mean now."
"Sorry," said Random. "Sorry guys." The pen was picked back up and the party went on. Stalker Erik came back inside from beating up the pretend viscount, and was accosted by five of his harem girls, who all wanted to dance with him at once. He managed his way out of this by asking them if they minded terribly doing the macarena.
And as they all danced the macarena, the harem girls said, "Stalker Erik, you like us better than Random, right?"
And Stalker Erik said, smoothly, "Of course I do, darlin'."
"Oh good," chorused the harem girls.
"Ai, macarena!" said Stalker Erik, who was enjoying it far too much for a grown man.
Random was attempting to explain some of the finer points of the WLIIA legend to Killthefop, Willow Rose, and MetaChi.
"I had this revelation, you see. One day I was typing, typing, typing, and suddenly it struck me that all the Eriks that ever were should all be stuck in a lair together for no particular reason. Of course the idea was insane, as there were far too many Eriks to truly do them all justice, and I think it was the very insanity of the idea that appealed to me. It usually is. I mean, I wrote "True Saga of Weak Willed Christine" on a lark, you know. There was no plot, no intention there at all. I just sat down and wrote the first chapter. That's how it was with this one. I had a notebook, and I was stuck at Starbucks, and I started off with Leroux Erik because he's my favourite. And the whole beginning didn't make me laugh at all. I didn't think it was funny." She frowned into her paper cup. "I'm glad somebody did. Otherwise I never would have finished it."
"Yes," said MetaChi, "but why muffins?"
"Because breadsticks were already taken," said Random, gesturing at Killthefop, who smiled and brandished her stale breadstick meaningfully.
"Why," said Willow Rose, "do you call her Real Christine instead of Leroux Christine?"
Random frowned in thought. "Well— I just did, the first time, and after that— force of habit?"
"Okay, then, why was Leroux Erik not named first in the credits?"
"That was a silly error on my part," said Random abashedly. "Though now that I think about it, have you ever heard of an intelligent error? Perhaps calling it silly is just kind of redundant. Like, I don't know, getting married and getting divorced and getting married to the same person and getting divorced again. That's actually happened to someone that I know, you know. I can't explain it, but—"
"Why wasn't I in the credits?" called Celtic Heart, who was now doing the salsa with her head rested provocatively just underneath Stalker Erik's throat. Every time they did a more athletic step her forehead banged painfully into his Adam's apple and he was seriously considering begging and pleading with her to step just a bit away.
Random glanced at them, saw the Adam's apple dilemma, and smiled. "I'm going to have to revise the credits, I suppose," she said. "Apparently I missed a bunch of you. I don't know. I was multi-tasking. You know about that, don't you, CH?"
"Yes," said Celtic Heart, "I am the queen of it." She proved it by simultaneously kicking Stalker Erik in the knee and giving him a bruise on the throat. Her attention gotten by the choking noises he was making, she smiled up at him.
"Stalker Erik, you like me better than Random, don't you?"
"Course," Stalker Erik managed to wheeze.
"I thought so."
Adison marched up to Random and handed her another large cup of coffee. "Refill?"
"Thank you."
"There's a boy on the phone for you. He says he's been pining after you for two years and was too shy to say anything until you got rich and famous."
Random thought for a moment. "Ambrose?" she said, and went to pick up the phone. Adison shrugged at the rest of the Writers who were gathered there, and went to rescue Stalker Erik's throat. She'd already had her dances, with all four Main Eriks and a rather sweet slow-dance with Patrick Raoul, and was ready to handle her beta and pretend-husband, who was coughing now and clawing at his throat.
"Is there a problem?" asked Celtic Heart worriedly as she watched him slowly collapse to the floor.
"Not at all—" wheezed Stalker Erik from her feet.
Adison patted Celtic Heart on the shoulder. "I'll take it from here." She extended her hand and assisted the coughing, hacking stalker back to his feet. "The excitement too much for you?"
He gagged slightly and regained his breath, managing to give her a smile.
"Dance with me?"
"For you, anything."
They danced. After a moment Stalker Erik ventured, "Er— Adison."
"Hmm?"
"Um— normally when you dance you don't immediately put your hand on the other person's butt. Usually you wait for a while."
"Oh. Sorry. I never took dancing lessons."
"That's alright."
"Okay."
They danced on.
"Adison."
"Yes?"
"I meant, could you please remove it?"
"Oh, sure. Yeah. Didn't get that."
"Alright."
"Stalker Erik, you like me better than Random, right?"
"Of course," said Stalker Erik, this time with a hint of sincerity. "I'm your beta, aren't I? I'm certainly not Random's beta."
"That's right, you're not," said Adison, and nestled her face into his shoulder.
Random had finally convinced the Boy on the Phone that no amount of money could make her go out with him, and she didn't particularly care if he committed suicide, and returned to the party flushed with victory to find the Main Eriks waiting for her. She stepped into the group and gave them all a fond smile.
"Mademoiselle Random," said Crawford Phantom, and they all gave her a bow. She bowed back.
"Sorry," she said, "curtsies haven't come all that easily to me since that time my costume fell half off and I accidentally flashed people on national television during the dance recital."
The Eriks stood and blinked at her for a moment. She was used to this reaction, kept the smile and raised her eyebrows and waited for them to recover.
"We, er, want to thank you for using us in the story," said Gerry Phantom finally, frowning slightly.
"It was fun, wasn't it?" she said happily.
There was a long pause.
"No," said Kay Erik. "But it was interesting."
"And at our age," put in Crawford Phantom, "interesting is nearly all we can hope for."
Random took this as high praise, which it was, considering who it came from. Without asking permission she hugged them one by one, Leroux Erik the longest.
"Remember you said you'd come by and help us all with our phics."
"I remember we said we'd consider it," said Kay Erik.
"Perhaps," said Crawford Phantom.
"I'll have to check my schedule," said Gerry Phantom.
"I'll be there," said Leroux Erik, but Random didn't understand that much French. Her smile faded a little as she looked at them.
"Well— I suppose it's the effort that counts, correct?"
"Looking back on all those chapters," said Kay Erik drily, "it had better be."
"I am sorry its over," said Random sincerely.
"I am not," said Kay Erik, and turned to go. The other Eriks followed him, not bothering to say farewell to any of the others, and so it was only Random who watched them disappear out the door, and only Random who noticed the crowd turned once more into a Phantom-less mass of fictionalized humanity.
The music was getting quieter, the floor was getting emptier, and Random claimed a pained and irritated Stalker Erik for the last dance.
"Please," he said in what was almost a whimper. "Please, please, I beg of you, for the love of all that is holy, don't step on my feet."
"I won't," said Random, mildly surprised.
"Promise."
"Promise."
"Thank you," he sighed, and seemed disposed not to talk any more. They danced for a few moments in silence, listening to the music.
Then Random said, "Erik."
"Hm?"
"You like all the other harem girls better than me, don't you?"
He appeared to be thinking about this.
"I'm not going to answer that question without my lawyer around on the grounds that it may incriminate me," he said finally.
"Oh, fine," said Random. "That's what I get for fishing for compliments."
There was another few precious seconds of silence and then she said, "But you do like me okay, right?"
"You make me smile," he said.
Random gave a lazy grin. "Ah good. My aim in life. Make people smile."
"Well, then, you've succeeded."
"Yes," she said musingly, "I suppose I have. And what more could I wish for?"
The music ended.
"Oh, that's right—"
"What?"
"Eternity."
Sarah Crawford went on to live a long and healthy life, being visited once a week by Crawford Phantom, whom she fed tea and sang duets with when the mood took them.
Willow Rose spent three months in jail for punjabbing an unsuspecting, pony-tailed man soon after the phic ended. However, she got out earlier than expected, getting time off for good behavior, and then went on to write a book about the experience. It was a best seller and was fifteen pages long. She now resides in Mars Colony and writes phan-phiction via satellite. Random Battlecry recently made an appearance in her phic, and was drastically misrepresented, but that's alright, because Random just loves to see her name in print.
Mandy the O continued to hold her title as the Queen of OW Phics for twenty more years, until she finally got over her crush on both Gerry Phantom and Kay Erik. She currently holds the title for most marshmallows fit into one nostril at a time, and she and her husband (the real one) are looking into buying a small, secluded island with the contest winnings. They're thinking, England.
EmailyGirl changed her name to something else that I can't remember, but continued to write truly stellar Phantom phics and was a first-runner up in the Miss Universe Competition (she lost to a girl from Betelgeuse Seven) .
Melissa Brandybuck's name starts with an M. And a B. And she went on to be a NBA star, an irony which never truly struck her, mostly because it isn't really all that ironic.
The Maiden Amorisa was brought back to life by a coven of witches and subsequently used to do their bidding until she managed to kill them, quite accidentally, by attempting to stuff muffins down their throats. Left to her own devices, she began to stalk Richard Roxburgh, and Random is pleased that no one but Stalker Erik gets this reference, because she is a perverse young woman and is often pleased by confusing the majority of her audience. Eventually, Richard Roxburgh appeared to give in, and informed The Maiden Amorisa that he was leaving his wife of five years and would go with her wherever she wanted. Upon which, The Maiden Amorisa suddenly came over all commitment-phobic and went to find some other dark-haired man to stalk.
Mademoiselle Phantom now makes her living as a can-can dancer in the newly-restored Moulin Rouge, where she is regularly visited by a man who looks suspiciously like Ewan McGregor. Last week she was in the news for allegedly spanking Gerard Butler.
Phantress entertains company on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It is best to call ahead.
EriksAngel1870 eventually dropped the numbers from her name and went onstage as Christine in the latest Broadway production of "The Phantom of the Opera." Last week she made history by packing the 3000 seat theatre, and then also by singing like an asthmatic badger.
bundles 'o joy once used the F word at me. In a review. In a supposedly good way. I find this disturbing.
ElfLover is visited by Leroux Erik every so often. She invites him in and they have a quiet chat, most of which she can't understand because she doesn't speak French, and then he uses her for punjab practice. The arrangement is eminently satisfying to them both.
Stalker Erik eventually parted ways with most of his harem, retaining only a few dedicated women whose personalities meshed well with his, like Mandy the O and Le Chat. Eventually he abandoned even these and eloped to Montana with a middle-aged and prosaic first grade teacher named Sylvia who wore glasses and had a hearing aid. He said she fulfilled him more than all of his young, enthusiastic harem girls put together, and lived a long and happy life, writing fantastic poetry and splendiferous music and never being depressed again. He still writes to Random occasionally but she only makes fun of him, so he doesn't really know why he bothers.
flamingices became a sword-swallower in the Omar Kayam Circus and enjoyed marked success until an unfortunate accident occurred when she neglected to put enough mustard on the blade. Having lost her taste for sword-swallowing, she pursued a career as an accountant, and failed miserably.
VegaOfTheLyre went on to enjoy great success as a used car salesperson, even resorting to violently-colored clothes to ensure continued success. Having amassed great wealth, she was devastated when her adopted son, the handsome "Hugh," made off with it all. But you can't keep a good Vega down, and last fall she started again with two horse-drawn carriages and a beat up black Volvo that Random condescended to lend her.
Rooklyn, having unfortunately been missed by Random when she was looking for the people who wanted in the story, wasn't in the majority of the phic. However, in her last-chapter appearance at the After Party, she so impressed a talent scout that she was immediately hired to run a hot-dog stand in front of Grauman's Chinese Theatre.
Ludivine only showed up in this thing at all because I'm nice. So ha. Ha ha ha.
MindGame was the last minion to join the Minionhood, but nevertheless learned quickly that pouring honey on Random's head whilst she is sleeping is a bad, bad, baaaad idea.
ChristineX continues her career as the most successful and sought after modern-day phan-phic writer in the business. She recently underwent the transference of a large amount of Bill Gates' fortune to her bank account, due to an error in the computer, and is working up her moral courage to actually do something about it.
It is unknown what Obsessionpersonified is doing now but it probably involves harps.
pOtOgurl417 eventually got married to a real estate salesman who treats her nicely and even tolerates the fact that she cries the name "Erik" in her sleep.
eyesofatragedy made a lot of money by capitalizing on her appearance in "Whose Lair," and every time she sees one of her fellow writers she does an interesting and peculiar dance that involves a lot of making faces, waving her hands in the air, and going, "Na, na na na, na, stupid person—"
IChooseTheScorpion chose the scorpion two years ago, and has regretted it ever since.
LibrarianOfTheDeep held onto her position as librarian (of the deep) for only a few months before she was fired, due to the long lines of people queuing up to get her autograph and generally obstructing those who had come to borrow books.
Killthefop eventually became Killthefop Butler. 'Nuff said.
sparklyscorpion showed Erik Destler her house and then couldn't get rid of him, not that she tried that hard. He took up residence in her basement and remains there to this day.
Slina, having made a momentary appearance in this phic, never reviewed again. Or if she did I missed it. Oh well. She had a long and happy life anyway. Because I'm nice. The end. Bleh. Bitter? me? No, no, no.
longblacksatinlace lives in Hawaii and rents boomerangs out to single-parent families who are visiting for the weekend. She's not sure why. It probably has something to do with the little men that live under her bed and who sell her stock market secrets. But she could be wrong.
THELadyRedDeath, who is somewhat capital-confused, opened a hair salon in Kentucky. She specializes in beehives, for no particular reason, which is, it has been said, the best way to do it.
Sydney the Poet remains monumentally ticked off at her aunt, Random, for not putting her into the phic more often. To be sure, Random warned her that there were tons of other people and she couldn't show favouritism, to which Sydney replied that, well, Stalker Erik seemed to be in there an awful lot, not to mention Hoshi and Adison, and she was resentful of the fact that these strangers were of so much more account than Sydney the Poet, Random's own niece. Random pointed out to her that she wasn't an Erik, a PR Agent, or a minion, and therefore didn't really deserve as much time. The fit that was thrown after this made it clear that it wasn't a good thing to say, and Random's adding, "All I meant was you just aren't as interesting," didn't really help either. However, after methodically destroying half of Random's CD collection, Sydney the Poet recovered from this blow, and then had to recover from another one when Random came back in and discovered her CDs strewn in pieces across the floor. A scuffle ensued, followed by tears on one side and exasperated sighs on another, and finally they reached the agreement that, in return for the grievous ill that Random had done her in not putting her in the phic more, Sydney the Poet would be allowed to kiss Gerry Phantom. So here, Sydney the Poet—
"Hi," said Gerry.
"Its lovely to meet you," said Sydney the Poet.
"Please let go of my pants," said Gerry.
"Alright," said Sydney the Poet, and latched onto his lips instead. Not surprisingly, she was able to manage it from a sitting position, as he was still in possession of the Scottish Pout, and the title of California Pout, while not yet given to another bearer, was apparently passed down through the female line in Random's family.
Padfootz-luvr, who if you didn't notice was also a Kay-luvr, or Kay lover, or whatever, eventually learnt to spell.
SimplyElymas opened a muffin-exclusive bakery in San Francisco, but lost everything when the Great Muffin Boom of '05 ended about six days later.
Johanna Gen now sells vacuum cleaners in space. Rather pointless, really.
xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx got a tattoo of her name on her back, but regretted it immediately after. She'd never been in so much pain in her life.
Songwind relinquished her title as Official Phic Moderator when Random said she needed the hat back. She went on, however, to star in several commercials for the new Ford Superpack, in which she holds an egg beater high in the air and mimes riding a bicycle whilst singing "I Am The Walrus." Random didn't write this commercial. We swear.
Phantomy-cookies, despite the fact that she never reviewed Whose Lair, got shanghaied into Writerdom when she attacked Random about letting Gerry Phantom be with Genn instead of Christine, because Random is just like that.
thusser-scout wanted to be the Tomboy Phantom, wasn't allowed to be because she wasn't actually named Erik, and went off in a huff.
DarkPriestessofAssimbya somehow managed to turn her start in "Whose Lair" into a prosperous career in politics. Don't even ask.
MetaChi still writes some of the most insane fan-fiction on earth, and Random would love to have another cameo in her stories. MetaChi went on to reap the benefits of Random's apparent popularity, as, when Random dropped her name, Random's readers went to read MetaChi's fics, and then realized that MetaChi is, of course, far, far more insane that Random, though Random would probably contest that to her last breath.
A-Lonely-Dreamer-56, the second to last person to join the Minionhood, inherited the title of Chief Minion from Hoshi, when Hoshi gave up on ever straightening Random out and went off and got her own minions.
Phantom's Fallen Angel recovered from her fall and went on to a less-than-successful career educating school children about gravity.
ButterflyOfLothlorien married David Wenham and now lives in Australia quite happily.
Mademoiselle Daae also married David Wenham, but lives in New Zealand. Hmm...
lazy.kender became the star of several other phics, made lots of money, and retired to a turkey farm in Tibet.
Scarlett Red Rose runs a sky-diving school out of Atlanta and, last week, married a man whom we will refer to only as "The Dark One."
Ophicial-Phan runs a stock-car racing contest for people under three foot tall, and so far, has won every time.
le chat never actually managed to fully seduce her harem master, and eventually had to settle for occasional late-night scratchings-behind-the-ears, kneading his trouser leg, and bringing him his slippers.
anche died several chapters ago. Don't you remember? Why are you asking me about her?
letthedreamdescend ran out of spaces early on in life, but recovered some when she purchased a print shop that was going out of business. She started a newspaper for physicians called the Weekly Stomach Digest which, despite everything, is doing spectacularly well.
The Singing Fox Demon now sings professionally, though in secret, for fear people should get all wide-eyed and frightened at the sight of a warbling demonic fox.
Mikomi Taisho, whose name really is Christine, wasn't actually in the phic but begged me so much to be with Gerry Phantom for just a brief moment that (shazam!) she was with Gerry Phantom. For just a brief moment.
YoukoElfMaiden runs a second-hand crutches store on Fifth Avenue. We're not telling which city. Just, Fifth Avenue. She also is frequently visited by all the Eriks you can think of.
Hoshi, as has been mentioned, eventually gave up on Random ever straightening out and went and got her own minions, whom she ordered to bring shoes to her at all times of the day and night. Rather intelligently, Hoshi managed to secure attractive male minions, and often flaunts this fact when she and Random have a minion-flaunting party. It goes something like this:
"Ha. Ha. Ha. My minions are attractive and male."
"Yeah, well—"
Pause.
"I'm pretend-married to Stalker Erik and you aren't."
"My minions," poke poke, "are male. And attractive. And devoted to me."
"Yeah, well—"
Long pause.
"My minions can— bake cookies. I think. Or something."
"My minions bring me shoes at all times of the day or night. Day. Or. Night."
"Yeah well, my minions are—"
Another long pause.
"Older than your minions. For the most part. And better dressed. For— the most part."
At this point the conversation will proceed to circle around to the beginning and start over. It gets bloody boring after a while, which is why Random and Hoshi only have the minion-flaunting party once every decade, which means they've only had it— once. I do believe my math skills are improving.
Misty Breyer always thought she was the heir to the Breyers ice cream millions, until someone pointed out to her that she lacked the all-important S on the end of her name. She went into a deep depression from which she only recovered when a Scotsman on a horse brought her some cotton candy.
phantomzgerl stayed true to her name and was the phantom's chief gerl for about two years— until that, is the Phantom started asking what, exactly, the function of a "gerl" is. Phantomzgerl could only frown thoughtfully and think about it for a few minutes before saying, "I don't really know." And so they went on in life, puzzled but, on the whole, happy.
darksidetwin2 is a part-time minion who walks dogs on alternate Thursdays.
Renee17 recently starred in the adapted-for-television version of the book of Genesis, as Adam's wily little sister, Rosalee.
Celtic Heart was, for a while, ticked with Random that she wasn't mentioned in the credits, but when Random explained to her that it was because Random was stupid, she very graciously forgave Random and wrote her a terrific song called "Laugh Miser." Thank you, CH. She also went on to lead a small section of north-eastern Minnesota into reinventing itself as the smallest country in the world, "Sandinia". Most of the people in this phic moved there, and immediately started asking, "Why Minnesota? Why not, I don't know, California?" So far this hasn't been answered.
phantomsangelofmusic runs a Moose Lodge in Connecticut and know more about moose than you'd ever want to think about.
Adison remains the greatest PR agent in the history of history, not because of results, but because she says so. She writes some stellar phiction herself, which if you haven't read it you should, and regularly has affectionate virtual-coddling sessions with her beta and pretend-husband, Stalker Erik.
Random Battlecry, who won't celebrate but will experience her twentieth birthday in November, remains caught in the grip of a difficult addiction to reviews and flattery and the endless repetitions of the word "genius." She struggles every so often with her original fiction, but returns to fan-fiction in the end, every time, and curses the day she wrote that first "Van Helsing" fic. Last week she started an all-new past-time— stalking Tony Shalhoub and Rik Mayall simultaneously. Stalker Erik is refusing to give her pointers but she hasn't done so bad for an amateur.
Final A/N: Okay, so I really am sorry this is over now. I had an incredibly great time writing it, you reviewers were all incredibly awesome, you writers were also incredibly awesome for letting me borrow your names, your personality quirks, and your identities. (goes to check into bank accounts, with an evil smile) Although I have to say the majority of it was guess-work as I don't actually know any of you. I am planning on writing another phic soon, probably a sequel to "True Saga of Weak Willed Christine," and I still have "Absolution" and "Terms of Endearment" going on, on top of which the party continues with an almost-sequel on PPN. And not just mine, either, there's Hoshi's Lair and the possibility of a Le Chat/sparklyscorpion one, and a partial from Mandy— I've created a monster.
Thank you all for helping me have the chance to write this, and curse you all for keeping me from my original stuff... reviews truly are an addiction. Whose Lair will go down in history as the story that finally gave me carpal tunnel— you can think I'm kidding if you like. I wish I actually was— also it is, I think, the first time that "full pouty lips" was used as an insult. This has been my most popular story ever, and a great deal of it stemmed from ideas you all had. Give yourselves a round of applause— named or not, you were all there at the After Party, drinking champagne and pelting people with muffins:
Joanieponytail, littledarkone, longblacksatinlace, ragingchaosgod, The Maiden Amorisa, ravensmyst, Songwind, moonlightrosegoddess, letthedreamdescend, DarkPriestessofAssimbya, anche, trincula, La Foamy, gavvie, Mikomi Taisho, Misty Breyer, Mithril2014, Dimac99, ElfLover, YoukoElfMaiden, Willow Rose, lazy.kender, MetaChi, Christine Persephone, Mandy the O, Mrs. Tom Riddle, Ludivine, Inuyasha-chibi, The Singing Fox Demon, THELadyRedDeath, Musique et Amour, Baffled Seraph, LivnLuvinReadin, Melissa Brandybuck,EriksAngel1870, Renee17, Marianne Brandon, Librarian of the Deep, Maggie, Chat-tastic, Adison, Tango1, Phantom's Fallen Angel, Master Darth Warius, xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx, Foreveriseternallymine, lamia, fordthepenguin, Leah Day, MorTae, Rooklyn, CelticHeart, Mademoiselle Phantom, Ophicial-Phan, Scarlett Red Rose, bundles 'o joy, Mademoiselle Daae, Neonn, RecklessDriver, easternelvenlady, ButterflyofLothlorien, steph88NYC, sparklyscorpion, erik'sangel527, RoseWithABlackRibbon, Killthefop, Halley Sutton, FireBreathingDragonOfTheHills, MindGame, darksidetwin2, A-Lonely-Dreamer-56, pOtOgurl417, SimplyElymas, VegaOfTheLyre, Martian Aries, S.A. Dickon, Hoshi, RavenPOTOgirl, bellasera, ChristineX, Lady Lomode, ENTR'ACTE, Clever Lass, Slina, Virginia Wildchild, Quixotic-Feline, thusser-scout, IAmYourAngelOfMusic, Son Ange, Esmarelda Gamgee, Favourite, Narsil, Sarah Crawford, iheartbritishhumorandanime, VictoriaTai, Jessica Darque, Rii, Shelvins, Phantress, Beads, Starbrow, Johanna Gen, Sis, Padfootz-Luvr, Miffy the Urple, mercia constantine, KeeperOFBoxFive, Atressa O'Riordan, Moon Avenger, phanphicnewbie, Banana71588, Maidenhair, Miss.Understood.3, Elle67, Elsha,Odsbodikins, flamingices, Tay Yankovic, obsessionpersonified, IchooseTheScorpion, Fishy, Berengae, lossefalme2995, Tziporah, Mary Su, Invader Vega, Cold Fate, thomgondola, Estee W, Rue Marie, babymene 17, NightFallsSoftly, velf, Angelus Musici, Aki T, Angel-of-Music1331, southwestkaoshin, the lost and the lonely, MOI, Thaelia15, Kristiana Marie, Witchy-grrl, LadyRedDeath, Ritoru Kani, Solitaire-Me, LadyKate1, Frogboy Lives, All Apologies, PhilosopherCat, KatieScarlet, WritetotheDeath, LazyCat, Amaruk Wolfheart, Diana, Butterflied777, Betty
(looks at the list) Holy crap. Thank you again.
I remain, your obedient writer— Random
