Chapter 2: An Explanation

"There. At least my organ is safe now."

Erik stepped back to smugly admire his handiwork. PhantomPhanGurl was bound securely by layers of rope that restrained even the smallest movement. However, her reaction to being immobilized like a rodeo cow was far from the usual blubbering.

"Ooooh how totally kewl is this, im actually touching one of gerry's ropes, well it is a liltite but that chocolate piano thingy looked too good to i just had to taste it.."

Nearing the end of his limits, Erik placed his face within inches of hers and hissed, eyes blazing, "For the last time, my name is Erik, and if you don't have the decency to stay silent for even a second, I will be more than happy to reconsider using my rope for more sinister purposes."

PhantomPhanGurl let out a dreamy sigh before finally falling into a silent reverie, her doe eyes going blank as she began to plan her future as the next Mrs. Gerry Butler.

"You would think she would have enough wits about her to will the ropes into spaghetti or something," commented the Shoulder Angel wryly.

"Please, don't get her started again or I'll have to resort to rendering the girl unconscious," groaned Erik, "Besides, she believes that the mere thought of being tied up with one of my ropes is rather phascina – I mean, fascinating."

The Shoulder Angel let out a dry laugh, "As long as there is a Phantom, there will always be a phan."

"A fan?"

"Yes, Erik. Phan. You see, the world where this fille is from, where young girls like her are only too common, devoted female admirers are known collectively as phangirls. They congregate in online fan fiction communitites and forums with such pseudonyms as 'AngelicPhantomess' or 'ErikzBellaDiva'-"

"Or 'IHeartErik' and 'GerryzLuver'" muttered Erik.

"Precisely. But what's in a name anyway," the Shoulder Angel joked as he grew more animated, pacing from shoulder to shoulder, occasionally clambering over Erik's head. He continued, "So each one of these lovesick phangirls eventually imagines herself with her destined true love, who is embodied by the tall, dark, and sexy 'Gerik,' the name that you are often referred by. The whole idea of the underground lake with a reclusive genius brings out the wild side in these phangirls, and they begin to see themselves sharing your world. And sometimes the power of the imagination is so great that it knows no bounds, whether they be time or worlds. We have a perfect example right here."

"All right, then tell me – do they all talk the same way as she does? With all of the atrocious –" Erik grimaced, "all the atrocious 'omg this is so kewl' sayings?" his voice sounded angelic even when imitating a squealing piglet.

The Shoulder Angel let out a resigned sigh and sat back down on his favorite shoulder.

"Sadly, most of the do, especially the younger ones in their early teens who have not fully matured." He shook his head over the thought of giggly txt msgs. "In such an unrestrictive setting as a public online forum, many phangirls have fallen prey to sheer carelessness and laziness. They abuse the simple mechanics of punctuation and spelling to a state of indecency. They have the gall to call it a language, or 'slang' if you will, but this is nothing short of profanity!"

"Uh, I would prefer that you take out your anger on something other than my ear, Shoulder Angel." Erik pried the Shoulder Angel's death grip off his left ear, which began to redden immediately.

"My apologies, Monsieur."

Rubbing his ear, Erik stole another glance at PhantomPhanGurl, who had fallen asleep dreaming of how delicious an Erik-flavored ice cream would taste.

"How is it that you know so much about these phangirls despite the fact that I know nothing of them, yet we are one and the same?"

The Shoulder Angel crossed and uncrossed his legs impatiently.

"How would I know?" he huffed, "I would be more concerned with disposing of that bothersome girl before she completely undresses you with a snap of her fingers just as Christine happens to walk in!"

"Christine would never dare enter here alone!" retorted Erik. His expression changed to one of distress. "Oh, Christine," he wailed, "How can I see or even hear her with that girl and her incessant prattling? I'm beginning to hear phanspeak inside my head!"

"Easy," chirped the Shoulder Angel, "All you have to do is to remove any reason for that young girl's wanting to stay here."

Erik stared stupidly. "With me?"

"Yes, Erik. You have to make yourself so repulsive and unbearable in her eyes that she would rather eat guano before spending any time with you."

Erik rubbed his hands together. "That should not be too difficult. I'm the Phantom, the disfigured musical genius who lurks in the catacombs, the Opera Ghost!"

"May I suggest otherwise," spoke up another, if deeper, chipmunk voice, this time by Erik's right ear.

Another Shoulder Angel sat there, this time dressed from head to toe in red.

"Do you forget that she is a phangirl?" the tiny figure said pointedly, "One who is infatuated with the idea of a misunderstood, dark, and sinister being such as yourself?"

"And you are?" snapped Erik.

"I am your Shoulder Demon. I represent your dark, tormented, vengeful side." The little man reached out a button-sized hand. "Allow me to provide you with some very effective ways to rid all of us of this silly phangirl."