Heya, people! Sorry about the delay on this one, but I was… :Thinks for a bit: Nope, scratch that, no decent excuse. :D Just laziness. I have a vague idea of what I'm doing next chapter… Shouldn't take that long to type up, but knowing me... Who knows what could happen? Eh, whatever. I'll do what I can. But anyway! Onto the insane randomness!


Disclaimer: I do not own anything; I don't own Wicked, Phantom of the Opera, the cherry lip gloss thing (who came up with that, anyway?), iTunes, or the Rent CD I'm listening to right now (It belongs to the library, if anyone cares… And I have to give it back tomorrow :is sad:). I do, however, own about seven dollars, an iPod shuffle, and way too many CD's.


Chapter… (What are we on now? XXII? Something like that): Macarena-ing Through Life, Part II

We last left everyone at the Populaire just after Erik Punjabbed Piangi. So now we return to the Fop Following Herd. And Aradia.

"And now I must accessorize myself for Christine," Said Raoul, skipping (Yes, I said skipping) to a shop next to the Ozbucks Café. Coincidentally (and rather disturbingly) the shop appears to have an entire wall devoted to lip gloss, with an entire section of Fop-endorsed cherry lip gloss. The rest of the herd followed him into the store.

"What in Javert's name is this?" Aradia demanded, pointing at one of the only things in the store that wasn't pastel colored.

"Ew… It's so tacky! Black is SO out!"

"He disturbs me," Aradia stage-whispered to a cashier with a red vest.

"He comes here every day. It's not right," the guy replied.

"I agree."

Again, Raoul attempted a glare and snapped, "Ballet rats and cashiers with red vests should be seen and not heard."

"And fops should be Punjabbed and not saved, but that rarely actually happens," replied the cashier.

"Great. Now she has a sidekick," the Vicomte muttered.

"So why is a black mask in a shop like this?" A random Rat asked the Nameless Cashier.

"Heck if I know. I just work here."

"You know, I think I'm getting an idea," said Raoul.

"Alert the press," replied Aradia sarcastically.

After purchasing the hat and a lot of other stuff I'd rather not list, Raoul, the Fop-Following Herd, Aradia, and the cashier dude made their way across the street to the Opera Populaire. Honestly, though, you'd think these people had lives, but no. They're content with just following Raoul around and (in the Ballet Rats' cases) making fun of him. When they got to their destination, which happened to be Erik and Raoul's dorm, they were all curious as to what Raoul was trying to do. Everyone except one of the Rats, who had read Wicked and actually understood what was going on.

The Vicomte threw open the door and yelled, "Happy fiesta!" Then proceeded to perform the chicken dance. When he finished, he made his way into to the room, telling everyone that he was pretty sure the chicken dance wards off those scary ravens.

Meanwhile, Erik, who had been sitting on the other side of the room at his desk reading How to Punjab a Fop at the time of the intrusion, was now watching, unsure of whether he should be laughing or seriously frightened by the fact that this was his roommate.

"Listen, de Chaney, I was just going to go find you so that I could, erm…" He quickly hid his book in his cloak. "Uh, see how you would look with this fashionable new scarf around your neck!" He improvised, displaying his "Scarf" aka Punjab. Honestly, I think we would ALL like to see how it looks around Raoul's neck.

"Never mind that, I was just looking for you. I thought you might want to wear this mask to the masquerade tonight!"

He got a glance in return that clearly stated, "Um, okay."

"It's really, uh, a mask, dontcha think? You know black is this year's pink! You deserve each other, this mask and you, you're both so… lethal! You deserve each other, so here! Out of the goodness of my heart!"

With this, he tossed the mask to Erik, performed the chicken dance, and left the room. After a moment, Erik took the mask and replaced his white one with the black, more Leroux-ish one.

At the Masquerade

At the Masquerade, a whole bunch of random people were dancing, including a guy dressed as Batman. There was also a guy who we all know of as Furby Man who was dressed as, you guessed it, a furby! We Phans are so creative with our names. Anyway, Carlotta was there as well, attempting to serenade people. She was not doing too well as people kept running away from her. She wondered why.

Suddenly, a ghost descended the stairs. Everyone froze and started placing bets on what/who it was.

"It's a bird!"

"It's a plane!"

"It's the Opera Ghost!"

From the other side of the room, Erik cleared his throat. "Um, guys? Over here."

"Oh. Never mind."

Everyone turned back to the ghost. This time, they noted that he was a bit heavier-looking than Erik and was semi-transparent. As in, a real ghost. This caused a bit of chaos involving the stupider masqueraders (which would be about 93 percent of them) running around in circles screaming, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! IT'S THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT!"

"Um, guys? That's Piangi," Meg pointed out.

93 percent of the Masqueraders stopped in their tracks and felt like the idiots they are, and the other 7 percent started smacking their foreheads with their palms.

"Zo zat's where you went!" Screeched Carlotta.

Piangi, seemingly oblivious to the fact that everyone thought he was the Ghost of Christmas Present, held out an offering of a plastic cup of punch. "Punch?"

Carlotta took the punch and chugged it. Everyone else mobbed around and did that familiar "Chug! Chug! Chug!" chanting ritual that we all know so well from the school cafetorium.

"What's in the punch?" Asked Piangi.

"Do you WANT to know?" she asked as she looked like she was going to puke.

"Not really."

By this time, everyone else had gone back to dancing/attempting to dance/doing that weird dance that one guy does, you know in the middle of the staircase in the Masquerade scene an hour and nineteen minutes into the movie, yah that thing.

"Lizeen, Piangi?" Said Carlotta

"Si?"

"Uh, Piangi, I've got someding to- Wait. What de heck rhymez weed Piangi?"

"Pretty much nothing," he replied, oblivious to the fact that Carlotta was in the middle of dumping him.

Carlotta shrugged and picked up in a different spot. "Zee reason why, well, why I azked you 'ere tonieeght. Now, I know, eet eezent fair-,"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Piangi said.

"Yez you do."

"No I don't!"

"Yez you do."

"I'm not listening!" He put his fingers in his ears. "LALALALALALALALALA!"

"Are you een denial?"

"NO!"

"Hey, Piangi, you're acting like Raoul again," Aradia added.

"IS THERE NO JUSTICE IN THIS WORLD?"

"No, not really."

"I'm getteeng bored. Let's dance."

"What?"

"You can take your feengers out of your eears now."

"Okay."

And they began to dance. Woo-hoo. This is so exciting. Can you sense my sarcasm?


"Giry! What are you doing here?" Asked Raoul.

"That's MADAME Giry to you, bucko. I'm here to give you this." Giry handed him a letter.

Raoul took it and read it. "Why does this say that I get to be in the chorus as well as the Patron? Wait, doesn't that mean that pretty much I'm paying myself?" This confused Raoul.

"Don't ask me, ask your dorm mate. It was his idea."

"What? Erik?"

"No, you're other dorm mate! Of course it was Erik."

"But why?"

"I have no friggen clue. Honestly, I don't think you have what it takes. Especially if you really do sing like Patrick Wilson. Now, if you sing like Steve Barton, that is a completely different story because-,"

"Wait. Who is this Patrick of which you speak?"

"Never mind. I hope you'll prove me wrong. Although, I seriously doubt you will."

"Um, thanks, I guess," he replied, still confused. He admired his letter for a few more seconds as Giry turned on her heel and left.

"Yo, Raoul, what's up!" Called Christine, making her way through the crowd.

"I got into the chorus!"

"Um… Great?"

"Yep! Giry started talking about-,"

"Holy hamburger, who the heck is that?" Christine interrupted, gesturing to our masked murdering amigo.

"Oh, that's just my roommate. He's a bit fashion-retarded."

"I'll say. Black is SO last Masquerade."

By then, everyone had begun commenting on the mask. If not for his deformation, Erik would probably have taken it off like it says in the script he's supposed to. But, being Erik, he didn't, and instead he began to Macarena. Alone. Without music. And trust me, we all hate the Macarena, but it's even worse if everyone's staring at you and making fun of you. Which is what everyone was doing, except perhaps Christine.

"Raoul, you're rich! Go dance." She told him.

"What does being rich have to with anything?"

"Rich equals popular, remember?"

"But it's FUN watching and making him look like an idiot!"

"Raoul, if you go dance, I'll give you a limited edition Humphrey the Magenta Panther feather duster."

"Deal!"

And, as Christine expected, the moment Raoul went out to Macarena just as badly, everyone else decided that if Raoul was doing it, it must be cool. (Even though the Macarena will NEVER be cool! Ever!) And since I seriously doubt the Macarena had been invented at that time, they named it instead, the Fop.

"Fopping through life, down at the Masquerade, if only because masks are what we come to! But the bad thing, you're life could end up ending…" At this point everyone stared pointedly at Piangi. "While you're fopping through!"


So there you have it! Part two of Macarena-ing through Life! Not sure how well this chapter went, because the Fopping through Life theme is getting a bit overused. :shrugs: Oh, well. By now, I think Fopping through Life would be a better title. Maybe I'll change it, maybe I won't, depends on if I stay this lazy or not. Next up is Music of the Night. Mwahahahaha! I'm beginning to get an idea as to how I'm going to mess it up, and hopefully it will be weird enough.

Now on to the fun part...

DragonheartRAB: Yah, I think we all pity the poor people who have to deal with the Fop on a daily (or even every seven and a half yearly) basis. Only, it'd be worth it just to have a chance to make fun of him. : )

Alli Lynn: Wickeders… Hmm… Works for me! And I liked your WicPhic (That's what it would be, right? Wicked Phan Phiction:Shrugs: Close enough)! I hope you decide to continue it, I like your idea!

Ravensmyst: I like the "Elphans" thing… Only, some of the Wicked fans prefer G(a)linda, so I guess Elphan could refer to us Elphie fans! (Okay, is it sad that I'm having problems spelling fan without the ph?) And if people think that we're Legolas fangirls, we can just call them fops for not knowing the difference. :D

xRJLupinx: It seems you have stumbled upon my little phic… moohaha! I shall now proceed to suck out your brain with a straw! Just kidding... Yay! I'm glad you like it! I'm more entertained than I should be by writing it!

xRJLupinx: You see, now that I've written this completely random and utterly pointless parody to Little Lotte, if you ever end up singing (Or more like speaking) the Little Lotte track, you can use the taco lyrics! And everyone around you will stare at you! (It's always fun to make people stare.)

xRJLupinx: I can't remember if I credited Spench and the whole thing about the accent to my friend Carma or not, and so if not, Carma don't kill me, and I'm crediting it now. Spitallian, though, was all my doing. Thanks for reviewing! Reveiws make my day. Kind of like Phantom does... :D

:Passes out the cake and the ice cream that I think I owe you reviewers: Thanks for reviewing! Anyone who can tell me what we should call the G(a)linda fans gets a pet armadillo! Woot!

Yep, thanks to my readers, drop off a review on your way out, and now I will go kick my brother off of the computer so that I can go start my next chapter! Yay!