Chapter III
When All Else Fails, Bring in the Comic Relief
Before we begin, I'd like to take the time to respond to several reviews that I couldn't ignore – not that I exactly ignore reviews to begin with.
Sideshow Sullen: Don't worry about it; headaches are a perfectly good reason to sound snippy. Oooh, you know of (Opera singing)? Are you part of the community or do you just know of the joke? Also, I'm pleased to hear that you thought I kept Erik in character. He's not the easiest guy to write. 9.6;
Kitsune Ryune: Honestly, parts of me were saying it was a bad idea, but they were quickly destroyed by the parts of me that said it was a good idea, which, incidentally, are the same parts that to push the shiny button even though the sign says not to. And I've always thought that Erik would bode well with the IZ cast. Glad to hear that somebody agrees. :D I think I always knew that I was gonna put him in the parody, but for a time I was somewhat uneasy with the idea because I figured that a lot of people would just go "Umm…WTF? Who IS this guy? This is stupid." So, yeah, in short, I'm relieved to know that everyone's okay with him being in the fic.
gryps incedio: I noticed that about Emmy Rossum, too, particularly during the line "…to put you from my mind." Her voice totally cracks on the word "my," making her sound like she said "my-eee" or something. I don't think Emmy has a terribly awful voice, just that her upper register is rather weak and that she should sing other songs aside from the ones in PotO. Gerard Butler…I can't really blame him at all, I mean, he could have turned down the job but that was about all he could have done. The never had a vocal lesson in his life and he smokes. But, OMG, that totally makes him the perfect Phantom. 9.9 I think I'm more annoyed by the annoying fangirls who claim that Emmy and Gerry are amazingly talented vocalists and that they're better than the people on Broadway and then jump on myself and others who try to tell them otherwise. Biyotch, please. Wow. That turned into a rant rather quickly, didn't it? Uh, sorry. Didn't mean to do that.
That said, one more thing before I leave you to the madness. Am I the only one who thinks that Tim Burton would make an excellent Phantom movie based on Leroux's book? I would love to see it in that wonderful claymation style of his, but Leroux's PotO isn't exactly a book for kids, thus I think it would do better if he got actual people for the cast. But that's just me. Anybody else wanna get in on this?
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It made absolutely no sense to Tyia. She had just been lounging about the ballet dormitories and minding her own business when suddenly the Vicomte de Dibier came barreling through the doors yelling for her. Tyia was puzzled at fist, but soon came to the conclusion that the viscount wanted to know where Silvie was since he obviously still thought the girl a witch. Being the good little sister that she was, Tyia had quickly karate chopped his enormous head and told him that he could just forget about Silvie cuz she wasn't interested and, quite frankly, neither was she. By 'she' I mean 'Tyia,' of course.
The viscount had at once launched into an explanation about pixies and Bigfoot and hearing voices in Silvie's room that didn't belong to Silvie. By now, Tyia was beginning to feel sympathetic for the poor kid, and so she patted his large cranium, telling him that everything was okay and asking if he would like to see Silvie's doctor or perhaps even borrow some of her pills?
The boy had shaken his gargantuan head and, sighing in frustration, dashed out of the room yelling for anyone who would come to his assistance. Tyia had simply shrugged and gone back to her lounging. She was just about to write in her super secret diary when she realized that she was missing something of extreme importance: her pencil. Surly everyone knows the importance of a pencil! Tyia let out a piercing shriek and ran around in circles for several minutes. Upon realizing that this was not doing her a bit of good, she promptly stopped and went about interrogating each and every dancer in the vicinity. No one had her pencil, although several offered to let her borrow theirs. Those imbeciles obviously did not know the importance of one's own, personal writing utensil. When none of the other dancers knew where her pencil was, Tyia knew that only once person could possibly be responsible for it's strange disappearance. And that was how Tyia came to find herself standing in the doorway of her sister's – formerly Calamari's – dressing room.
"Silvie? Yoo hooooo, Silvie? Have you seen my…good…pen…cil…"
Tyia stared around the darkened room, furrowing her brow in confusion. She was certain she had seen Silvie retire to her dressing room, and yet her sister was no where to be seen. The room was completely devoid of life save for the billions upon billions of germs that lived in the very air Tyia was breathing, but nobody counted them.
"Look, you don't have to hide, Silvie. It wasn't like I was accusingyou of stealing the pencil or anything. I just wanted to know if you'd seen it. You can come out now."
Her only response was silence.
With one hand on her hip and the other resting on the doorknob, Tyia narrowed her blue eyes in suspicion.
"Ohhh, oh, I get it," she declared knowingly. "You really did steal my pencil and now you're afraid to face me! Shame on you, Silvie! Shame on you!"
Not a soul tried to defend the accusation, which only angered Tyia further. She stomped her foot in indignation.
"Gosh, I can't believe you!" she exclaimed, storming defiantly into the room. "My own sister or all things… how could you?"
She paused in her tirade to search for the tacit Silvie, but her sister proved evasive. After looking under the feinting couch, behind a painting of Calamari, and a in a series of other implausible yet comical hiding places, Tyia was ready to call it quits and assume that her sister had gone off snogging with that young Vicomte when her eye caught something.
The mirror.
A soft light was emitting from around the edges of Silvie's gilded, full-length mirror.
"'Ello," Tyia whispered suspiciously. "Whot's all this, then…?"
Still in her ballet shoes and tutu, Tyia crept over to the massive looking-glass and, placing an index finger to her chin, contemplated the mysterious glow that seemed to surround it. Suddenly, striking the pose of a ninja, her arm shot out…
"Hi-yah!"
…and she karate chopped the mirror. It did not shatter into a thousands pieces as Tyia had hoped, but as the mirror shuddered from the impact, its left side broke free of its golden frame and moved away, sliding into the adjacent wall.
Tyia gaped.
"What the heck…?"
Curiosity overruling fear, she slid the mirror to the right until there was just enough space for a skinny ballerina to slip through. Without hesitation, Tyia began to walk through the small opening, pausing only to step on the discarded purple rose that lay in front of looking glass. Once on the other side, Tyia turned to look back at the mirror, only to be met with a solid wall. Confused, she reached out to touch it. The moment her fingers brushed against the rough grain of the wood, a square of violet appeared next to her hand. Her eyebrows arching in puzzlement, Tyia pressed a finger to the center of the pad and gasped. The wooden wall dissolved before her eyes, instantly replaced with…nothing. There was a wall, but it was clear. Even clearer than a window for, as we all know, even the most transparent windows have some blemishes.
"Oh my God…" Tyia breathed. "My sister's got a peeping Tom! Eww!" she shrieked, jumping away from the perfectly transparent wall. "And I'll bet he kidnapped Silvie! Darn it!" she cried, stomping her foot once again. "Now I'll never get my pencil back! Unless…" She peered down the dark and gloomy hallway behind her. "Eh. It's cold, damp, and unfamiliar, and I'm inappropriately dressed for exploring, but I don't see anything wrong with venturing down dark, spooky tunnels. Oooh," she squeaked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I'll bet it'd be even darker and spookier if I didn't bring a light! Heehee!"
No thoughts within her head but thoughts of seeking out Silvie's pervert, no dreams within her heart but dreams of getting back her pencil, Tyia turned on her heel and marched purposefully down the passageway.
Despite the muddy floor, lack of light, and nauseating smell, Tyia was happy to take part in this quest and even began to sing a cute little song.
"Hi ho, hi ho, to sniff out creeps I go – eee! Rat!"
Sure enough, too caught up in her mirth to notice much, Tyia had tripped over a rat that was busily gnawing on a moldy piece what might have once been bread or possibly cheese.
"Hi, Ratty!"
"Squeak!"
"I'm fine, thanks, but my sister's been kidnapped by some snarky pervert, so I'm going to find him!"
"Squeak!"
"Well, sure, I'd love to stay and chat, but my sister's been kidnapped by some snarky pervert, so I'm going to find him! I think I told you that already, but my memory's not too good, so I'm not sure… Hey, you didn't happen to see my pencil around here, did ya?"
"Squeak!"
"You did?" Tyia asked excitedly. "Where?"
"Squeak!"
"Heeey…wait a minute…is that my pencil? You're eating my pencil? Ratty, how could you?"
"Squeak!"
"Oh, don't gimme that," she spat angrily. "I know you don't mean it."
"Tyia…why are you talking to a rat?"
The ballerina spun around.
"Mlle. Gazette! How'd you get here?"
The small, purple-haired ballet instructor said nothing, merely grabbing Tyia roughly by the arm and shoving her down the hallway.
"Let's go."
"Aww," Tyia whined, "but I was talking to Ratty! Oh yeah, and some peeping Tom's got Silvie."
"Silvie's fine," Gaz replied, "which is more than I can say for you if you don't get moving."
"But aren't you the least bit curious as to why there's a secret passageway behind Silvie's – formerly Calamari's – mirror?"
"No."
"But aren't you worried that Silvie's been kidnapped?"
"No."
"But aren't you at least upset that somebody stole my good pencil?"
"No."
"But aren't –"
Mlle. Gazette glared up at her, one eye clenched shut, the other open and smoldering. Her hands were wrapped so tightly around her cane that it shook, threatening to snap in two. The mistress of the ballet may have been shorter than Tyia, but that had never prevented her from keeping the ballerina in line.
"If your carcass isn't in the ballet dormitory in the next ten seconds," she seethed very quietly, "I will tie you down, break both of your feet with a sledgehammer, and then set them so that they'll stick out and never point forward again."
"But won't I have perfect turn-out, then?" Tyia asked timidly.
Mlle. Gazette raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," she agreed calmly. "But people will make fun of you and say you walk like a duck, and you wouldn't like that, would you?"
Tyia gasped in horror.
"No! Not a duck! Not a duck! Waaaaaaaaaaah!"
And she took off for the mirror, screaming all the while.
♪ ♪ ♪
The euphoric sound of "Come on, guys!" met Tyia's ears as she pelted through the door of the ballet dormitory.
"Get lost, Keefé!" snapped a blonde ballerina, not looking up from combing her flaxen hair.
"But I made waffles!" Keefé cried happily.
"I don't care," the dancer shot back.
"Don't'cha like 'em, Sorelli?" he asked, utterly lost. What sort of person didn't like waffles? It was unheard of. Completely unnatural. In fact, the only person Keefé knew of who didn't like waffles was the ghost. Keefé was always trying to convince him to try some, but the ghost refused, deeming them "too filthy for his superior mouth." This didn't faze Keefé in the least, however, and he continued to try to get the ghost to sample his cooking. Thinking back on this now, though, Keefé took something into consideration. The dancer Sorelli didn't like waffles, and neither did the ghost. It wasn't hard to put two and two together come up with the solution: It was quite obvious that Sorelli was a ghost. But Keefé decided to keep that information to himself. After all, he had more important things to deal with.
"Even if I did like waffles, Keefé, I couldn't possibly eat them," sniffed Sorelli. "I'm a ballerina, therefore fattening things like waffles are out of the question."
"Aww, you don't really mean – hi Tyia! Ya want some waffles?" In an instant, Keefé was at the dancer's side and waving a plate of the breakfast food under her nose. Tyia forced a smile before shaking her head as politely as she could and hurrying away to the back of the room.
"C'mon, guys!" Keefé encouraged, instantly forgetting Tyia and turning to the other ballerinas.
"Hey!" one particularly squeaky dancer exclaimed, apparently having just thought of something. "I just thought of something! Keefé, you've seen the ghost, haven't you?"
"Uh…"
Now, the truth was, while they were bestest friends, Keefé had never actually seen the infamous Opéra Ghost. However, the dancers were all looking at him with the type of hunger they could never have for waffles or any other type of food substance. Needless to say, Keefé thought it would be wrong to disappoint them.
"Well…" he began slowly, scanning the room for inspiration. His eyes landed on something in the far corner of the room and he hastened to snatch it up. Holding up a hole-filled, mud-caked pair of galoshes proudly, he beamed at the troupe of dancers.
"He looks a lot like these old boots!
But with a nose so big there's hardly any room!
He's my bestest friend, you know.
He's constantly sending me garden gnomes of DOOM!"
Appearing seemingly out of thin air, as was her habit, Mlle. Gazette yanked the boots out of Keefé's hand and promptly threw them across the room. They collided with the head of the squeaky ballerina, causing her to fall over, hit her already severely bruised head on the hardwood floor, and laps into a coma. She was later hauled off to the local hospital where a long argument took place, debating whether or not the squeaky dancer should be taken off life support. Mlle. Gazette, however, could care less about this, for she still had an irksome stagehand to deal with.
"If you get any dumber
I'll have no choice but to kill you myself.
Stupid Keefé, shut your trap! "
She gave him a good whack upside the head.
"And go make your waffles for someone else!"
♪ ♪ ♪
The next chapter should be up much sooner, although I cannot make any promises. Skool is proving to be teh ebil once again and taking honors classes have actually decreased my respect for the human race if you can believe that.
NotesThere was a wall, but it was clear - think of the episode Tak the Hideous New Girl when Zim touches the front door of his house and the door turns into something of a two-way window. I thought it would fit very well here, considering how Erik used a two-way mirror to give Christine her singing lessons.
"No thoughts within her head...no dreams within her heart..." - an obvious reference to the song Christine sings in Erik's Don Juan Triumphant , but I thought I'd mention it all the same.
"Silvie's fine," - I always got the feeling that, in the movie at least, that Mme. Giry was a total E/C shipper. Either that, or she really didn't care about Christine's well-being.
Break feet so you'll have perfect turn-out - this can be done, creepy as it is. While I don't personally know anyone who has had their ankles broken and then set, a cousin of mine was seriously considering it for a good while. Luckily, she decided against it. However, this was only after she heard that it could cost her the use of her legs. 9.9;;
Sorelli - © Gaston Leroux. She might be somewhat OOC, but I kinda wanted her that way. She reminded me of a valley girl for some reason, so I just went with that.
One particularly squeaky dancer - you could say that she is based on Leroux's character little Jammes, although it is never mentioned.
...debating whether or not the squeaky dancer should be taken off life support - ahah...um...you could say that this is my way of poking fun at all the fuss people made about the formerly anorexic, comatose girl who apparently did not want life support. I think it was finding out that anorexia caused the heart attack which led to her vegetable state that really made me lose sympathy for her, although I, personally, do not support the idea of giving life support if someone does not want it. If this offended anyone, please do not hold it against me. After all, South Park did a lot worse.