Hiya Peoples! You've probably noticed that this doesn't look the same as before. I rewrote it in a new format so now FFN won't take it down again. It's a bit different than the original, but hopefully it's just as good. So without further ado (Whatever the heck that means) I present to you, The Wickedness of My Green Face, Resurrected.



Disclaimer: I still don't own Wicked, Phantom of the Opera, Harry Potter, Monty Python, or anything else.

Chapter One: No One Mourns the Wicked

G(a)linda- Raoul

Witch's Father- Auctioneer

Witch's Mother- Meg (A/N: She'll show up in other scenes, too)

Midwife- Porter Dude

"Good news! He's dead! The Phantom of the Opera is dead! The most homicidal ghost there ever was, the enemy of all of us here in Paris is dead! Good news! Good news!" Somehow, all of the random people assembled in the opera house all knew the same song, which they were singing simultaneously.

"Look! It's Raoul!" Someone in the Crowd shouted. And indeed it was. Coming down the stairs to the main floor of the opera house was Raoul de Chagny, the Good Patron of the Opera.

"Fellow Parisians," he began, and everyone immediately lost interest. Any speech of his beginning with the words "Fellow" and "Parisians" promised to be long-winded and phenomenally boring. But since he was keeping a steady flow of money rolling in, everyone pretended to pay attention. "Let us be glad. Let us be grateful. Let us rejoicify that goodness could subdue the homicidal workings of You-Know-Who!"

"AHHHHHH! It's him! We're all gonna die! It's Voldemort!" screamed Ron Weasly, who had somehow managed to show up in the wrong story. "AHHHHHH! I said his name! I'm gonna die!" With this realization, he fainted on the spot.

There was a brief silence, but it was broken by the yelling of some guy with a cart full of dead bodies and a heavy British accent. "Bring outcha dead! Bring outcha dead! Bring outcha dead! Ninepence."

"Does anyone have ninepence?" A girl named Aradia wanted to know.

"Why would we have ninepence? We're in Paris!"

"I have ninepence!"

Promptly, the very fake and plastic coin was given to the guy with a cart full of dead bodies and a heavy British accent, and Ron's body was thrown onto the cart. "I feel… Happy!" He said, only to be hit over the head with the guy with a cart full of dead bodies and a heavy British accent's gong.

While all of this was going on, Raoul had continued to drone on. "Isn't it nice to know that money will conquer music? The truth we all believe'll by and by outlive a lie for you and-"

"No one mourns the deformed!" Yelled Someone in the Crowd.

"No one cries: "They won't return!" Added Another Person.

"No one lays a lily on their grave!"

"Shouldn't that be 'his or her' grave?"

"Yes, but that doesn't exactly roll of the tongue, does it?"

"Sure it does!"

"No one asked you, Marius."

"Whoa, where did Les Mis come from?"

"Some old dead French guy's brain."

"Never mind, let's just continue the song."

"Okay."

"The good man scorns the social reject!"

"Through their lives our children learn what we miss when we misbehave…"

"And goodness (aka money) knows the Phantom's life was lonely. Goodness (aka money) knows the Phantom died alone. It just shows when you murder, you're left only on your own." Continued Raoul in a monotone.

"Yes, goodness knows the Phantom's life was lonely. Goodness knows the Phantom cries alone. Nothing grows for the Phantom; he reaps only what he's sown..."


"Why are we discussing the planting habits of agriculture and its effect on the growth?"

"Beats me. Whoever wrote this song must have been running out of things to rhyme with 'alone.' "

"Are people born deformed?"

"Yes."


"Or do they have deformation thrust upon them? After all, he had a father. He had a mother, as so many do…"

The Overture to Phantom of the Opera began to play, and an overhead projector screen descended slowly from the ceiling. The lights turned off, and everyone told everyone else to shut up because the movie was starting.

"How I hate to go and leave you lonely," began the Auctioneer on the screen.

"That's alright; It's only just one night," Meg replied.

"But know that you're here in my heart while I'm out of your sight…"

"And like every family, they had their secrets." Everyone knew it was Raoul because he was the only one who still doesn't get that you're not supposed to talk during movies.

"Have another drink, my dark-eyed beauty. I've got one more night left here in town, so have another drink of green elixir, and we'll have ourselves a little mixer. Have another little swallow, little lady, and follow me down…" said Meg's lover.

"And of course, from the moment she was born, she was, well, different." It was Raoul again.

"It's coming," said the Porter. "Ha! I have more lines than 'showing here'!"

"Now?"

"No, I was kidding. It's coming next Tuesday!" replied the Porter sarcastically. "The baby's coming!"

"And how?"

"How do you think?"

"Hey, I'm just reading my lines. See, I'm not actually married to Meg, I just play the part!"

"Uh-huh. I see a nose, I see a curl, it's a healthy, perfect, lovely, little-"

"Holy crap!" Cried the Auctioneer.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"How can it be?"

"What does it mean?"


"It's atrocious!"

"It's obscene!"

"Like a froggy ferny cabbage, the baby is unnaturally-,"

"Deformed!" everyone screamed.

"Take it away! Take it away!"

"So you see, it couldn't have been easy!" Announced Raoul as the lights turned back on and everyone else said something along the lines of "Ah! My eyes! The light! It burns!"

"No one mourns the deformed, now at last, he's dead and gone. Now at last, there's joy throughout the land. And goodness knows we know what goodness is. Goodness knows the social rejects die alone, hence the term 'social reject'."

"He died alone…"


"Woe to those who spurn what goodnesses they are shown. No one mourns the homicidal!"

"Good news!"

"No one mourns the homicidal!"

"Good news!"

"No one mourns the homicidal!

Deformed!

Angel!"

"Hey, where did 'Angel' come from?"

"He was the Angel of Music. He deserves some credit for that, doesn't he?"

"Sure, why not. It's not like the song wasn't screwed up to begin with."

"Why are we even celebrating that he's dead, anyway? He made Carlotta croak! Literally. Not croak as in... You know what I mean!"

"Once again, Marius, no one asked you."

"Yah, well no one asked you, either!"

"No one asked you to say that no one asked me."

"No one asked you to say that no one asked me to say that no one asked you… or something like that."

"Just shut up. No one asked either of you."


((A/N: Okay. I'm done. Finally. I am kind of sick of the number of times I have written out this song. But I hope you liked it anyway! Please review so that I know to continue. And thanks to those of you who reviewed before! Anyone who reviews this time will get a reply next chapter! So yah. Review! Hey, do you think I've said the word 'review' enough? coughreviewcough))