A few moments later, we heard the sound of Erik's footsteps heading for the door. "I'll be back in a minute. I'm going outside for a smoke. I hope you're happy, Christine! Nine years without a cigarette shot to Hell!"

The moment we heard the door slam, the vicomte began to pound on the wall. "Honeybear! Honeybear, are you in there?"

"Raoul? My beloved, is that you?"

"Yes! Don't worry, me and my nameless new friend are here now and we're going to bust you out of there just as soon as you bust us out of here."

"Bust you out? Oh, that'll be an interesting trick, considering the fact that I'm tied to the !#$ wall!" screamed Christine irritably.

"We're doing the best we can, here!" I replied defensively.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. You'd be a little cranky too if you'd just been through what I have. Erik took me away from the man I love and locked me away in his dungeon. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he tried to force me to marry him. And to top it all off, I've got a splinter! That was the last straw! I tried to commit suicide by bashing my head against a wall, but I think he saw that coming, because all of the walls in this house are lined with rubber."

"Naw, that's not it," I clarified. "He spent a couple of years in an asylum, and thought the padded walls were comfy, so he's had a set installed in every place he's lived since."

"Never mind that. I think Erik's on his way back inside. You two have got to get out of here before he kills you!"

"Oh, so you still think he's gonna kill me, huh?" The vicomte sounded bitter. "Nice to know my girlfriend has such confidence in me."

"Oh, don't get all macho on me now, Raoul," snapped Christine.

I cleared my throat nervously. "Um, Monsieur le Vicomte, Mlle. Daae, this isn't really the best time for this…"

"This is just like you." Raoul growled. "Ever since we were children you've acted this way! It all started back when we were ten. We were playing at the beach when those bullies, the Beaumont twins, started knocking me around and threatening to steal our Frisbee. So then you came up to us and said, 'Oh, just give it to them Raoul. It's not worth the beating they'd give you.' And I--"

"RAAAAAAAGGGGGHHH!" Christine screamed. "What have I ever done to deserve this? I can't believe you and the wacko non-angel out there are my only choices!"

Fortunately, Erik came back in a few seconds later and spared me from having to listen to the rest of this conversation. "Christine, dear, are you okay? I was outside and I heard you screaming. Loudly."

Christine had apparently decided that laying on the charm would be her best bet. "My snuggly wuggly genius-kins, did you ever stop to think that I might be slightly distressed because you tied me up and left me alone in a dark basement?"

"Uh…of course I did. All part of my plan, yes." Erik tried to cover. "I was just trying to get you emotionally vulnerable so it would be easier to put the moves on you."

"Well then, Erik, my cute little cuddle bug, why don't you take the ropes off me and see if it's worked?"

Erik's voice hardened again. "I'm sorry, my love, but I'm going to have to ask you never to use the words 'cute' 'cuddly' and 'Erik' in the same sentence again."

"I'm so sorry, my…er…sexy, sinister hottie of a specter?"

Back in the torture chamber, the vicomte was trying valiantly to suppress a gag reflex. I just covered my ears and hummed softly, trying to shut out the whole conversation and pretend I was anywhere but here.

Fortunately, Erik was too busy giggling like a schoolgirl to pay us any attention. "Hehehe…okay. I'll untie you."

We heard Erik move closer to her and begin cutting through the ropes. Then Christine coughed nervously. "Uh, I don't mean to criticize, my homicidal hunk, but do you realize you're covered in green Jell-o?"

"Yeah, I know. While I was outside smoking, I noticed there were a bunch of old corpses floating in the lake, so I got the pool scoop and tried to fish them out. Didn't want them to get tangled up in the tin cans I've tied to our wedding gondola. Unfortunately, the pool scoop got stuck in the Jell-o and I fell in." There were a few slurping sounds as he licked the front of his shirt. "Mmm…Jell-o." His voice brightened considerably. "Say, Christine, since you're going to be my wife, does that mean you'll cook unburned food for me once we're married?"

"Um, sure, whatever you want." Christine mumbled, and we could hear the sound of keys jingling nearby.

"Oh, yes! Unburned food every day! This is like some sort of wonderful dream!" Then his voice lowered dangerously. "Hey, what are you doing with my keys?"

"Wh-what, these?" Christine tried to sound relaxed, but her voice trembled nervously. "I was, uh, just going to borrow your car! If we're going to get married, I'm going to need to pick up a few things. Flowers, a dress, that lingerie I ordered last night, and the rest of my medication. And you'll need a tux and some mask polish, not to mention--"

"Don't lie to me," Erik snarled.

"Okay, okay, I confess, I was trying to steal your key chain. I'm so sorry, my wraithlike Romeo, I just love those little springy key chains, and none of the stores seem to carry them anymore. I--"

"Wait a minute, I know what's going on here. You're trying to bust your little boyfriend out of my torture chamber, aren't you?"

"Torture chamber? You told me that was your hobby room. And that I couldn't go in because that was where you kept your unfinished model ships and you didn't want me stepping on one."

"All right, I was only half honest with you. My real hobby is torture, not model kits."

Christine screamed in horror.

"Hey, baby, don't take it so hard. At least I'm not a sports fan."

Christine raced to the little window in the torture chamber, then turned to Erik, raising her eyebrows. "This is your big scary torture chamber? A room with a pretty little model forest and a bunch of mirrors on the walls? Where are all the racks, hooks, scourges and shackles? Where are all the dull, bloodstained knives?"

"I prefer to use more creative methods. You got a problem with that?" Erik challenged.

"N-n-no, of c-course not, my lethal loverboy."

"I'm sorry, darling, I can see I'm making you nervous. Here, why don't I show you one of my slightly less terrifying pastimes?"

There was some shuffling around outside, and I stifled a groan. "Oh, please, Allah," I prayed silently, "don't let him be getting out that stupid doll."

A few seconds later, I heard Christine's voice, sounding a bit perplexed. "Erik, is that a doll?"

"No!" Erik replied defensively. "It's a ventriloquist's dummy. His name's Herbert. Herbert, this is my main squeeze, Christine. Can you say 'hi' to her?"

"Hi, Christine," squeaked Erik in the high-pitched voice he had always used for Herbert.

"Oh…well…hello, Herbert," Christine replied hesitantly.

"So, Herb," Erik went on in his normal voice. "How are you feeling today?"

"No bad, but I'm getting a little dusty. I sure could use a coat of lemon-scented Pledge," Erik replied in his Herbert voice.

"There is no God," I sighed, crumpling miserably to the floor.

The vicomte stared from the window back to me, as though looking for some kind of explanation. I just shrugged. "This is what happens when a man lives underground for years at a time with only his pet sea monsters for company."

Erik spent the next several hours telling the same tired old jokes about termites and sawdust. The poor viscount and I were soon on the verge of insanity. Matters weren't helped by the intolerable heat that had begun to fill the chamber.

I knew what was happening, here. This torture chamber was an exact replica of one Erik had built for his end-of-term science project during our freshman year at Manzenderan A&M. It was a six-sided room, lined with mirrors, with a big iron tree in the corner. The mirrors were part of the heating system, which Erik used to slowly cook his victims to death. The tree had a noose hanging from it that you could use to commit suicide if you wanted a quick death (or just couldn't take any more of Erik's ventriloquist act). I had tried to point out how cliché the whole thing was, cooking his victims in a giant oven like some kind of fairytale villain, but he never was one to listen to constructive criticism.

"Erik?" Raoul and I heard Christine say. "Isn't this place getting awfully hot for a damp underground cave?"

"That's just because my torture chamber's getting all fired up." He clapped his hands excitedly. "Yep, I'm gonna barbeque myself some meddlers! And maybe toast some marshmallows, if I have time."

"NO!" shrieked Christine. "Erik, I beg you, please don't slow-cook the man I love and his nameless buddy!"

"As much as I love you, you can really be a drag sometimes." We heard her screaming as he dragged her out of the room.

I angrily kicked one of the iron trees, then swore lavishly as I rubbed my fractured toes. "Well, with Christine out of the picture, I guess we're going to have to bust ourselves out of here. You with me, Monsieur le Vicomte?"

But alas, the searing heat had become too much for Raoul de Chagny. He had fallen to the floor and begun to roll around the floor, giggling softly. "Hehehehe…That you, Phil? You look funny."

I shook his shoulders violently. "Monsieur le Vicomte!"

The viscount's head lolled dizzily from side. "Hehehe…nifty new hat, Phil. Can I try it on?" He began to tug at my turban and I angrily shoved his hands away.

"Meanie…" the vicomte mumbled incoherently. "Won't even share with your own brother." He sniffled. "I'm hot. Let's go down to the ice cream parlor and get milkshakes."

"Raoul!" I shouted, slapping him across the face. "I'm not Philippe, I'm…er, Anonymous-Foreign-Guy-With-Some-Vague-Connection-to-Erik, remember?"

Raoul's eyes slowly fluttered open. "Oh, right. Nadir. Heh, you look funny too." He turned to address his reflection. "And so do you, Monsieur Enjolras! Hehehehehe!"

It looked like I was on my own. I checked the floor and walls for secret doors, but it was no use. Meanwhile, Raoul de Chagny was looking through the iron forest. He let out an excited scream. "Quick, Daroga! Come here! Look what I've found!"

My heart leapt. "What? What? You found an exit?"

"Even better! I found the legendary Sunscreen Springs!" The vicomte crumpled to the ground and began to swim through an imaginary fountain full of sun-block. "Hop in, Daroga! It feels like SPF 30 at least!"

"Monsieur de Chagny, listen to me! There's nothing there, you're delirious!"

"You're delirious!" Raoul fired back at me.

"Am not!"

"Are so!"

"Am not!"

"Are so!"

"Am not!"

"Are so!"

I opened my mouth to answer him again, but was distracted by several geysers popping up around me, spraying me with…raspberry lemonade? Uh oh. Well, now we were both done for. "That's it!" I screamed. "I've had all I can take! Hell can't possibly be any worse than this!" I ran toward the noose hanging across the room.

"Me first! Me first!" Raoul protested, running close behind me.

"You'll get your turn." I shoved him aside.

"Hey!" The heat had made him more grouchy than usual. "Don't go shoving me. I'm having a bad enough day as it is!" He tackled me.

We wrestled around on the ground for a few minutes, until the vicomte's shoelace caught on a loose nail and he called a time-out. "Stupid phantom," Raoul mumbled. "If he's gonna cook us to death, he could at least have the courtesy to keep his giant oven tidy. Daroga, could you give me a hand? This shoelace is really stuck."

I wearily fiddled with the knot. "This is hardly setting the mood for our tragic suicide, you know." With a mighty tug, I yanked the nail out of the floor, and a couple of boards popped free. We tumbled down out of the oven, into a cellar full of barrels labeled "Pierre's Instant Milkshakes."

Raoul let out a whoop of joy and began to pry one open. "Who-hoo! Somebody up there likes me!"

I stared at him. "What are you talking about? You've just been tortured to the brink of death, had the woman you love stolen from you, and been prevented from committing suicide by a mere fluke."

Raoul pointed to the label on the barrel. "But look. They're raspberry flavor." He pulled the lid off and groaned. "Aw nuts! These aren't milkshakes. They're full of lousy gunpowder!"

"Gah!" I jumped away from the barrels.

"Gah!" cried Raoul, the delirium finally starting to wear off. "Do you think he's gonna use this stuff to blow us all up when Christine dumps him?"

"Either that, or he's starting another of his stupid collections. But he usually likes to keep those in display cases in his living room. We're doomed!"

The vicomte's eyes scanned the room full of explosives. "You know what? Somehow, that torture chamber's looking really good right now."

We jumped back up into the giant oven, now pitch black, and heard a knock on the wall.

"Who's there?" I called

"Who d'you think?" Christine Daae answered.

"Honeybear!" the viscount cried.

"No time for chit-chat, my love," sobbed Christine dramatically. "In five minutes, Erik's going to kill me, you, himself, everyone in the theater, his mother, the Loch Ness Monster, and that guy down the street who sells pretzels out of a cart."

"We've got to stop him!" M. de Chagny insisted.

"It's no use," wailed Christine. "He's gone out for another cigarette break right now, but when he comes back, he'll kill everyone. Unless I agree to marry him. He showed me these two boxes, one with a scorpion, one with a grasshopper. If I turn the grasshopper, he'll take it as a no. If I turn the scorpion, he'll take it as a yes."

Once again, the vicomte looked to me for an explanation. "He collects bugs, too," I clarified.

"Honey, I'm home!" Erik's voice rang out, the door swinging open.

"Erik!" I shouted. "It's me, your nameless best pal! Why don't you let us out of your giant oven and call off this whole killing spree? Maybe we can still catch up with the guys and get in a few rounds of Goofy Golf--"

"Pop a cork in it, Anonymous-Foreign-Guy-With-Some-Vague-Connection-to-Me!" Erik sounded more than a little annoyed. "Dear God! I moved underground, and surrounded my home with a maze full of deadly traps, a giant lake, and two murderous monsters! What more do I have to do to finally get some privacy, go live in a submarine on the ocean floor?"

"What a grouch," muttered Raoul.

"Now, as I was saying," Erik said to Christine, "you can either marry me or I'll blow us all up."

"How romantic," I interjected.

"Shut up!" I could hear Erik striking a match to light the gunpowder. "That's it! You people are soooo dead!"

"Erik! Don't do it, my dishy little demon! Look, I just turned the scorpion!"

The scorpion was apparently hooked up to some kind of pipe, because when she turned it, the room full of gunpowder flooded. The water rushed up into the torture chamber, and the vicomte began to splash around happily.

"Oh, I thought I'd never be cool again," he sighed. "This is heavenly, huh Daroga? Daroga?"

Sadly, I still hadn't gotten around to taking swimming lessons. I flailed helplessly. "AAAAAAGH! I'm drowning! Help me, Raoul!"

There was a long pause. "But Daroga, it's only two feet deep right now."

"AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH!"

"All right, all right, I'm coming." The vicomte reluctantly waded over, grabbed my collar, and held my head up above the water. I was relieved, until another four feet of water gushed into the room.

"Uh, Honeybear? You can turn the water off now," M. de Chagny called anxiously. "H-H-Honeybear? Honey-MMMMMMMMMRRRRR!" His screams were muffled by the rising water, and the hand gripping my collar went limp. I started thrashing around in terror and hit my head on one of the iron trees' branches. My last coherent thought before I blacked out was that I should have just gone golfing and let Erik handle his own women troubles.