AN: I know Erik's not really gay. It's sort of a Very Secret Diaries thing. And, er, in case of confusion, Shmoopy and Giles Andre are the same person. Firmin just calls him Shmoopy sometimes. (It's an allusion to an episode of Seinfeld, as some of my more alert readers may have guessed.)

The Very Secret Diary of Richard Firmin

Day 1: Have bought an opera house as a surprise present to my Shmoopy for his 62nd B-day. Do hope he likes it. It was dreadfully expensive.

Day 2: He likes it! Yay! Tomorrow we shall go make our first visit and meet all the actors!

Think I will wear my lavender dress coat with the mauve embroidery on the sleeves tomorrow, but must ask Giles what he is wearing so we don't clash.

Day 3: Lord have mercy on us. These opera house people are v. fucked in the head. Dreadful, really. Good thing they have some clever new managers to fix up this place. Am making a to-do list.

1.) First of all, those tacky curtains must go. They went out of fashion ages ago, I shudder to think of what the audience must think every time those things swing shut between scenes.

2.) Fire that outrageous old lady with the ghost fixation. Not only does she insist that the former manager paid the ghost a salary, she seemed to take it as some sort of crude remark when I mentioned that her daughter had excellent bone structure. These theater people have filthy minds- it was a perfectly natural compliment to make. Wish I had cheekbones like that, but Shmoopy loves me anyway so it really doesn't matter.

3.) Hire better stagehands. Disastrous collapses of scenery should not be allowed to happen. Thankfully have replacement soprano for tonight, but nevertheless cannot afford to lose any more experienced performers.

4.) Find out why the underground swimming pool is walled behind steel grating and marked DANGER: KEEP OUT. A brisk morning swim would do wonders for my physique. Perhaps pool needs to be renovated.

5.) Get one of those corps de ballet dancers to teach me that bondage-inspired ballet routine. But not the Giry woman's daughter. Or the one on the funny medication.

6.) See if can locate someone to (inconspicuously) watch over new opera patron while he's in the building. The poor dumb creature is bound to break something or try to eat something that isn't edible.

7.) Buy my Shmoopy chocolates to be spontaneous and romantic just like that magazine article said.

Later that Night: Performance with substitute soprano surprisingly pulled off without a hitch. The young Vicomte seems to be rather interested in this Miss Christine Daae. Young love, so terribly sweet. It just makes me tear up. Where ever did I put my handkerchief?

Day 4: There is something rotten in the city of Paris. Giles and I have received terrible threatening letters. Someone is trying to extort money from us under the alias "O.G." which people are insisting stands for Opera Ghost. And our new soprano has gone AWOL, so we have a distressed Vicomte with his own little threatening note wandering around and generally messing things up. Actually accused us of writing that note. As if! The penmanship was horrible!

Poor Shmoopy very worried. Must go console him now.

Later that Night: Carlotta back. Christine back. Carlotta received similar note to Vicomte saying she will not sing here again. So of course she's back in an instant. Reverse psychology works wonders, wish we had thought to try it yesterday so all this nuisance about Christine wouldn't have been necessary.

Aforementioned ingenue, according to Mme. Giry, is in her room sleeping it off. Apparently arrived with a note taped to her forehead saying, of all things, that she will be singing the lead in tonight's opera, and also signed O.G.

Oh, please. As if that is going to happen. Did the necessary sucking up to Carlotta to convince her to resume her role as diva. Christine gets silent role, as a token gesture, because audience seems to like her. Find her rather annoying myself, but whatever.

Giles and I found a rather intriguing tall, dark, and handsome foreign fellow wandering the corridors wondering why he couldn't get laid. Of course, was our duty as managers of the opera to reassure him that he could, and, if necessary, assist, but he seemed a bit spooked. Ran off. Quickly.

I suppose the ass grabbing was a bit forward of us, but really, we couldn't resist.

Day 5: Nothing.

Later that night: Hehehehe... Froggy! Like froggies.

Ten minutes later: Why is there a dead stagehand hanging by his neck on the stage? There should not be a dead stagehand hanging by his neck on the stage. We did not HANG a stagehand over the stage, and the actors were ACTING, no one could have put him there therefore he is not allowed to be there. Therefore, he shouldn't be there. Therefore, he isn't there. He isn't there, right. Okay. I feel better now.

… it's not going away. Dammit. Must go face reality now.

Day 6: Mas-quer-ade! Paper faces on parade, masquerade, where's my feathered mask, goddammit, I can't find you… da dee dah, lalalalala de da, da dum dum, look around, where is that fan I put behind you. Find my coat, find my shoes, face of duck, duck duck goose, I can't remeeeember the words, but I'm singing to it anyway. Caaaause I'm late. And my stockings are missing, they're gone, la la- wait a second, there they- stops singing abruptly There they are. I told him not to use them for that. Bloody hell, and they were silk too!

I am all the sudden not in the mood for a party any more. Must bribe stunt double, Larry, to take my place. Am going to a bar to sulk and get very, very drunk.

Day 7: Shmoopy acting very suspicious. Think he knows it was not me at the party. The poor fellow has something of a nervous disposition and if not careful, may drive him over the edge someday. But serves him right. Damaging my silk stockings irreparably. Ah, well, I do love him anyway, perhaps we just need to have a little talk about the proper uses for stockings and the teensy little fact that I have an evil twin who I hire as my stunt double.

After all, there shouldn't be secrets between lovers, should there?

Later that Day: Was subtly leading into heart-to-heart conversation when Vicomte burst in with all the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy, spilling out his plan, so totally interrupting the talk that it is imperative Giles and I have soon. Anyway. Vicomte wants us to lock the doors tomorrow night. Apparently this will trap "Opera Ghost" in theater. Not to insinuate anything, but I'd rather prefer that he be out of the theater. Could not find small enough words to rephrase that in, so merely pointed out that we can hardly keep the audience sitting in here forever.

Boy finally left but by that time Giles had been called away to assist with the choreography and I was alone in the office with nothing to do but play solitaire, which I did. Depressing.

Day 8: Some bloody Spanish opera playing tonight. Vicomte still in golden retriever mode. Carlotta behaving, for once. Christine still in building and under discrete supervision to prevent any more disappearances. Carlotta not in need of supervision as she tends to leave very… loudly.

Shmoopy in horrible state, and ignores all attempts to comfort him. This is all my fault. Will spend tonight with him, have long soothing bubble bath and then have a glass of wine by the fire and talk about the issues between us.

Later that Night: Last thing can remember was…. pretty lights falling towards me… chandelier? Noises, screams, bad. Then odd smell, handkerchief over face…. Woke up a few moments ago. Still very hazy. Seem to be in wine cellar. Entry not moving. Bricks? Cement? Where is that Larry when I need him? This seems like situation stunt double should be in. Not me. Shmoopy? Where are you…?

Even Later that Night: Can't get out… no light… wine, very old wine… Entrance totally built over… want Shmoopy.

Later that Week: Have built signal fire so someone can come to my rescue. Am beginning to have suspicions about this. Who would block me in like this? Who would want to steal my life?

The Following Week: Have found underground pool. Am surviving on sushi and the desire for vengance. Want our Shmoopy back. Want him back, yes. Lovely, lovely Shmoopy…

Was Larry, yes, was Larry who locked us up here.

Was Larry who took Shmoopy from us.

Yessss….

Thief! Liar!

We hates it! We hates it forever!

COMING NEXT: The Very Secret Diaries of the evil twin Larry and of Giles Andre- I know many of you asked for Mme. Giry, but I just can't think of anything for her right now. Wait and see, I'm sure it will happen eventually.