Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.

Poodles and Mischief

The Opera Ghost was crouching on a catwalk playing with his lasso.

Carefully, he lowered it down just enough that it wouldn't alert any passers-by and then he waited. When someone came by he swiftly dipped it down and then yanked it back up, catching various items in the process. These trophies he put in a small but growing pile next to him. Among his prizes were an array of hats, ballet slippers, a wrench, a scarf, and a pair of glasses.

His most prized of the bunch, though, was a fluffy fox fur wrap pulled right off of Carlotta's haughty shoulders.

Upon finding her precious "foxies" gone, she exploded into anger, storming around the stage, threatening to quit, and sending the ballet rats scurrying away in fright.

Once she had made an entire circuit of the main part of the theatre she stopped mid stage. Busy huffing, puffing, glaring, and slapping anyone who came near she didn't notice the little black ball of fluff that had somehow escaped its handler and came scampering towards her, intent on finding refuge with its mistress.

She felt something brush against her dress, and highly irritated, shooed it away with her foot. She turned, drawing in a breath in order to continue screeching, when she felt it again.

This time without hesitation she gave the annoyance a firm kick, sending the poodle slipping, sliding, and tumbling across the stage.

Shocked and confused, the animal slid to a stop and then sat there cowering as the handler came rushing onto the stage. Spotting her charge, she breezed past Carlotta & Co. and stopped in front of the little ball of fluff.

She reached for it.

Just as she was about to scoop it up, it looked at her with large watery brown eyes that seemed to say, I've had enough and then it bounded off, heading straight for Carlotta.

The diva, now aware of what was happening, watched the dog with trepidation.

It scooted up to her and stared.

Unsure of what the little pest wanted, she huffed out,

"Nice-a-doggy." and then made to turn away.

Before she could, however, the puffball calmly lifted its leg and let go a stream of yellow fluid right onto the front of her skirt.

Carlotta shrieked and started babbling incoherently as she watched, stunned, as her dress was ruined.

Unbeknownst to her and the rest of the audience of this little spectacle, a catwalk high above the stage was swaying dangerously to and fro.

The Phantom was kneeling with his mask pressed up against the rough wood underneath him, his arms wrapped around his middle, and his entire body shaking in silent laughter.

Finally something worthwhile to watch! I guess good things really do come to those who wait, or in this case, suffer.

He poked his head over the edge of the board, intent on observing the chaos below.

Carlotta was flanked by attendants, screaming at the top of her lungs in a combination of French and Italian about how she was going to leave the undeserving theatre, fire all of her attendants for not doing their jobs, and go on to greater fame and glory in either Vienna or London.

A stagehand was rushing around trying to catch the poodle, which was attempting to make a break for freedom by jogging through scenery and dodging various onlookers.

Maybe I should adopt that dog for its achievement.

The Phantom smirked and settled back into a more comfortable position.

Suddenly, there was a slam of doors and the managers appeared in the main entrance of the theatre. Quite out of breath, Andre and Firmin trotted up the isle and wheezed onto the stage. Firmin rushed to the irate singer,

"What has happened, my diva?"

Letting out an aggravated breath, Carlotta pointed at the stain on her dress.

"I 'ave a-just been HUMIL-I-A-TED!"

She turned towards the dog.

"I a-want-a that pest gone!"

"Yes, yes, whatever you wish, my lady."

Andre motioned for the stagehands to get to it. They all corned the puffball and one got a hold of its collar. It struggled valiantly, but in the end it was dragged towards the back of the stage and then out of sight.

Carlotta glared at her two employers.

"I am a-leaving thees theatre! Arivaderchi."

Abruptly, she about-faced and strode toward the makeshift stairs in front of the stage.

Watching from above, the Phantom almost cackled with glee. Oh happy day! That tone-deaf cow will finally rid herself of my opera house!

On the stage, Andre and Firmin shared a glance of exasperation and then hurried after her.

"Great diva! Do not leave us!" Andre shouted.

"Yes! We need you! You are our goddess of song," his partner added.

"Our shining star of beauty!"

"The light of the stage,"

"and the love of all of Paris!"

At this the diva turned around and waited for them to catch up. With arms crossed and foot a-tapping she bellowed,

"Well?"

Andre hovered around Carlotta and Firmin bowed.

"Please stay my lady." Firmin said, face still tilted towards the crimson carpeted isle to hide the almost pained expression on his face.

"Yes," Andre took the diva's arm and started to slowly nudge her back towards the stage,

"please!"

He leaned in and whispered in her ear,

"And there would be an increase in your salary, of course."

Firmin, who was listening attentively, started at this and from behind the pair's backs grimaced miserably at Andre. Begrudgingly but faithfully added,

"I wholly agree, you have performed beyond your best these past few operas, you most definitely are entitled to it."

Almost to the stage, now, Carlotta huffed yet again and then paused, clearly pretending to consider their flattery and promises. Then, with dramatic superiority, she said,

"I-a suppose-a that with a little comp-ra-mising something can-a be-a arranged."

Both managers knew without asking that they would be the ones doing the compromising.

"Hmm, with that-a figured out-a, I think I will retire to my-a dressing room, gentlemen. I am-a a bit-a tired from all of the hard work I 'ave been doing"

She paused to wave her hand in front of her face, but froze when she spotted something on her arm. Letting out a gasp she screeched,

"See! I sweat!"

Then she pushed her arm under the manager's noses.

They tried not to flinch but were unable to keep a trace of disgust off their faces because of the proximity of Carlotta's arm. They had sacrificed their ears for the sake of the opera, but were a little bit more unwilling to kill off their senses of smell due to the combination of Carlotta's cheap perfume and doggy urine.

The diva then let out a nonverbal screech and headed backstage, her entourage hesitantly following after her.

Up above, Erik was livid. It had started out to be such a good day, what with Nadir's visit, the poodle fiasco, and the prospect of Carlotta's resignation. Now, at least to the Opera Ghost, it felt as if Christmas had just been canceled. He stared down at the goings-on below and let out an aggravated sigh.

And it was going so well! I should have known.

Goodie pile forgotten, he hefted himself up and descended to the ground floor slowly.

It was a dreary trip home, and even the memory of the poodle urinating on Carlotta's dress could not lift the Phantom from his funk.

I will never be able to get rid of her. She is like a fat, wriggling leach in my side – very hard to get to and even harder to get out. And if I leave her alone for a minute her parasitic grasp will have deepened and strengthened.

He slunk into the sitting room where he immediately collapsed into a chair.

His head was completely empty – no music, no ideas – only a fading pain from his left wrist where he had gotten cloak burn.

Psychoanalysis of Erik 101: A warning to all Phans – most say that the Erik is truly dangerous only when he is in his psycho mode, when he is extremely angry, or when he feels threatened in any way. This is not so! The Erik can be very dangerous to himself and anyone or anything when he is completely clueless. No ideas equal Phantom mischief, Phantom mischief equals evil mischief. The Erik can be extremely nasty and inventive when his mind is not busy with the usual things, or anything, for that matter.

Suddenly, he jumped up, overcome by a thought.

He frantically raced around the room, searching for the items necessary to relieve him of his foul mood.

From various cabinets he collected a pile of bottles, bags, needles, and various paraphernalia that contained some of the vilest things the Phantom could think of.

Without bothering to sit down he grabbed a bottle, uncorked it, and paused,

"Bottoms up." he whispered to the silent lair, and then tilted his head back and took a massive swig.