Chapter One: Hair-ibal/Think of Mane/Angel of Hairstyles/Little Lottery/Phantom of the Blow-Dryer.
Hello, I am Christine Daae's excellent, chocolate brown hair. Aren't I pretty and silky and—oh! Look! There's Carlotta's hair! Hi Carlotta's hair!
Carlotta (singing in full Hannibal garb, about to get the scenery dropped on top of her): Thiiink of Meeeee, think of me foooondly when we've said GOOOOOOOOOOOOD BYYYEE!
Yeah, I feel very bad for poor Carlotta's hair, always suffocating under those ugly, uncomfortable wigs. Imagine wearing a corset that is two sizes too small, size FIVE shoes, and a push up braw that you wore before hitting puberty…then you can multiply that by six and then you shall have some idea of what that woman's hair has had to put up with.
Anyway…I am thankful not to be on that evil head. I am here, in Christine's nice and empty one. Plenty of room, occasionally she'll make me catch fire, which is very unpleasant—note to the readers, be careful when lighting candles in a very dimly lit chapel, especially when having near-orgasms with the "Angel of Music."
So yeah, I'm just waiting here for Christine to finish rehearsal, I really don't like this gold thingy that she—hey wait! She's singing! Cool! She sinks perdy…
Christine: Think of me…think of me fondly when we've said…COUGH COUGH COUGH! GAG! COUGH!
Oops…sorry Christine, I kinda got tied up in your throat there,…I'll just…inch myself out. There you go. Good as new…The managers don't seem to mind, they're smiling. Ew, that guy's weird Mohawk wing is really ugly! Ok. Now, they're drooling over that Meg girl…she has nice hair, for extensions. Oh come now, what did you think? Please, those tresses aren't real!
Me, on the other hand…well I'm all natural, baby!
---Hannial debut, Gala night!---
Oh, this is SO cool! Look at all those people in the audience. These stars are a bit uncomfortable though. I've got to remind Christine to stop using that nasty gel thing, it burns in these theater lights. Oh well, could be worse, I could be all flowy and foppish like the guy who came in during rehearsals the other day. Raoul was it? I don't remember him as a "childhood sweetheart." She's making that up. Whatever, I'm tired, I want to go to the dressing room. Bye-bye
(hair jumps off of Christine's head, she runs off stage in a hustle trying to catch up with it.)
Christine: Oh my goodness! (running to catch up with hair, finally grabs it while standing in the Chapel with her father's memorial candle). There you are! (takes hair, fixes it tightly on head) STAY!
Hair: Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say! YOU weren't getting seared by hot lights! Oh! Blondie! Hi miss extensions!
Meg's hair: Hey! Who are you calling extensions (proudly) I've been growing for years! Naturally!
Christine's hair: Sure, that's what they all say!
Christine: (morosely) Meg, my father said that he would send the angel of music to guard and guide me after his death.
CH: (frustrated groan) This girl really needs to let her brain in on what her mouth is doing. Ahem…just so no one gets confused here, I have not, nor do I plan on, looking for Angels of music in the near future. Thanks.
MH: Good, 'cause your girl is loony (makes crazy face with Meg's curls)
Christine: Meg, I think your hair is making fun of me.
Meg: (worried) O…k…maybe I should get mother, you seem…disturbed.
Christine: (eye twitch) What? Disturbed….? You believe me right?
Meg: (backs away slowly) Sure….(runs the other way screaming) Mom!
Giry: (coming from seemingly no where) Come with me Christine.
Christine: (shocked) Where'd you come from?
Giry: er...uh…inside your mind?
Christine: (innocently) OK. (smile blankly)
Meg: (whispers to Giry before breaking into a panicked run once more) She's…uh…talking about Angels of Hairstyles…
Giry: (blinks) What? (continues with some puzzlement, shrugs off Meg's paranoid statement, ushers Christine to Carlotta's dressing room). Here you are dear, enjoy! (hands Christine rose)
CH: (exhausted) ARG! What now? Oh no! It's Foppy McFoppfop! Now, he's talking about…who the Hell is Little Lottery? Oh! Speaking of, I heard the jackpot is up to twenty million francs! (takes out lottery ticket) Oh, I hope this wins…I'll buy a nice piece of real estate on Reyer's head, I hear the place is up for sale, the current owners are already starting to move out.
Christine: Raoul, I can't the Angel of Music is very strict.
CH: (gasps) Again with the doggone Angel! Get a life girl! He's a freaking guy! A regular man, perhaps with voyeuristic tendencies…possibly pedophilia,…and all. But still a regular, red-blooded HUMAN MAN! Even I know that…and I'm only DEAD PROTEIN CELLS! (starts to fume with rage)
Raoul: (confused) er…uh…Christine—
Christine: (determined) Raoul, I just can't go out with you. Please don't ask again.
Raoul: (pointing at Christine's head) No, it's just—
Christine: (interrupting him again…smoke coming from head) I'm sorry, but my Angel—
Raoul: (finally tilts her head to mirror…sees her hair is steaming) You're smoking!
Christine: (still not seeing mirror) Well thank you but—(finally looks at hair on fire) ACK! WATER!
Raoul: (finds vase of roses, dumps it over Christine's head)
Christine: (soggy and irritated, glaring at Raoul) Thanks a lot, fop.
Raoul: (sheepish grin) Two minutes, little Lotte…(exits quickly)
Sorry bout that, guys, I guess that hair gel really is more of a hazard than I thought. And one can never underestimate the actual occurrence of these spontaneous combustion phenomenons. Anyway, now I'm wet and wild. WOHOO! LOOK AT ME! Now, I think I'll curl gracefully around her shoulders…give those Mary-Sue writers something to drawl on about for paragraphs on end. Luscious curls, waving locks, cascading tendrils…take your pick. I'm all of that and a bag of chips, baby!
Oo…creepy voice in dressing room.
Oo…creepy face in mirror.
Uh…Angel of whats-it?
DUN….DUN! DUN! DUN! DUN! DUN!
Oh! I LUV the electric guitar…even though they have not been invented yet. Still totally awesome though. SO COOL!
Oh…this girl is something, one minute she's all whiny…(mimics Christine) "oh poor me, my daddy's gone" then she's all "Oh my angel this, my angel that" and then she's like "take me, fop, you're so amazing" and NOW she's ga-gaa over the guy with the wicked awesome torch (yeah…I said it! SO WHAT! Phallic symbols rule::A/N: I apologize for that, Christine's hair is…special).
Phantom: Sing my Angel of Music! Sing for me alone!
Ooh…chills, I can feel my tips curling already. At least we'll have fun tonight Christine! Well, hopefully for real and not just some pseudo-erotic experience via soprano/alto duet.
Please R&R…I'll finish Phantom of the Opera and Music of the Night next chapter!