Disclaimer: I do not own POTO, just Frankish.
I awoke some time later, spread eagled across the farm animal carpet and very cold with a rather annoying breeze right beside my ear. What had suddenly woken me up?
"AHH! GRUBB! STOP IT!" I screamed, scrambling up, after I realized that the breeze was really Grubb, who had been sniffing me or maybe something worst…
I jumped up with the agility of a cat, looming over the Indian style seated Grubb, putting my hands on my hips once more.
"Just you wait until Erik hears about this, you crazy ass fiend!" I proclaimed in a sassy manner as Grubb merely stared blankly at me.
"Why would Erik care when he told me to keep you away from the beautifully furnished in the middle of no where lair?"
It was my turn to stare blankly at Grubb, but as staring at Grubb for too long makes you gage, I dramatically turned my head to the direction of the love cave, wondering if what he said was true.
"But he told Madame Mommy Giry that he was going to kidnap me…" I protested angrily, stamping my foot in the process, and then screaming "OWW!" as wasn't wearing shoes.
Grubb merely chuckled his creepy but in no way sexy laugh and looked up at me once more.
"It wasn't you he was going to kidnap, it's that Christine Daae," he replied mockingly.
My temper got the better of me at that point, so to make myself feel somewhat better, I began to seduce Grubb, led him beside the lake and kicked his stanky ass in, the stench of failure emanating from Grubb dispersing my furious anger.
I laughed as he drowned.
Later that night after I had sprinkled cucumber melon bath salts over Grubb's floating body, to make the job easier for the unfortunate souls who would eventually discover his water-logged corpse, I found myself stomping in a very elephantine manner to that Christine's dressing room, (which oddly enough looks exactly like Carlotta's but much smaller). I reached the end of the hall and made my way forward to have a bitch fest with her, when I noticed Meg Giry, or Barbie if you think that fits her better, "sneaking" into the dressing room.
I say "sneaking" because the girl was failing miserably! Come on, who wears a white fruffy tutu thing and repeatedly hisses "CHRISTINE!" over and over again and expects not to be noticed!
Anyway, I watched her as she unlocked the door and snuck in, which is weird when you wonder where she got the key from. It didn't seem to be Madame Mommy Giry because about five minutes later the previously mentioned Mommy goes into the room and returns with Barbie who is mumbling something along the lines of, "But I don't want to listen to Daddy Buquet's stories and I don't want to sit on his knee again!" while being yanked on the ear. So that rules out Mommy…
Was it the managers that gave her the key? Why would they give a dim-witted ballet rat the keys? Did she practice her "sick moves" in front of them?
Or Buquet? That is probably less of an explanation as no one in their right mind would give him the keys to the ladies' dressing rooms, or any dressing rooms for that matter. Not unless the management wants to be harassed by the health department because of the discovery of a whole slew o' little Buquets running around; greasier and drunker than the original.
Wow…that thought just made my soul barf.
As it was obvious that Christine wasn't there at the moment and I sure as hell did not want to participate in whatever sinful acts were to take place in the ballet dorms tonight, (it was whiskey Wednesday…) I decided to just borrow her dressing room as it's not even fair or makes any sense that she has one because she is only a ballet rat! I snuck in, threw all of that Christine's frilly clothes off of the sexy, leather divan, and settled myself in a position that would make me look like a desirable angel even if I started drooling and fell asleep…
I awoke the next morning to the sound of grunts and moans. My radiant eyes snapped open in shock as I realized the sounds were coming from the direction of the partially opened mirror door. As I did not want to be a witness to whatever unavoidable "coupling" was bound to take place on the divan that I happened to be lying on, and I seriously doubted that the individuals responsible for the previously mentioned sounds would allow me to partake in whatever they were about to do, I jumped up quickly, after thinking all of this out of course, and sprinted behind the Christine's dressing screen.
Before I could carry out my ingenious plan, however, I tripped over the fruffy dresses that I had tossed to the floor last night, successfully getting caught in the massive massiveness which was Elisa's white aria costume. As I was trying to free myself from its unforgiving grasp, the mirror door slid open forcing me to hide in the ridiculously poufy skirts.
I held my breath as the sound of feet entered the room, stomping around a bit before seating itself on the divan which I had so cleverly evaded moments before. Expecting to hear more of what took place outside the mirror door, my ears were disappointed to hear only the sound of silence…permeating silence…
Unable to suppress my curiosity, I dared a peak from beneath my covert hiding place, feeling extremely sneaky and a slight bit stalkerish. This time it was my bright eyes that were disappointed as the only sight that greeted me was not the ever satisfying act of love making, but Christine. Just Christine with a huge box of what was labeled "Torture Chamber" beside her. Even more disappointing was the fact that she wasn't doing something interesting like solving a rubics cube or ruffling through the box or sniffing dry erase markers, which would explain a lot…no. She was simply sitting there, staring at the wall before her, with the most vacant expression one could possibly imagine on her dull, uninspiring face, her mouth opened wide enough for one to stick one of those huge Otis Spunkmeyer's muffins in without even a "muhhh!"
After about an hour of her simply staring at that wall, and yes I did look over at it and there was not thing of much interest except a painting of a menacing looking Carbitcha holding a chopped off head on a silver platter, I was beginning to wonder if the girl was even still alive! I couldn't hear her breathing and she hadn't blinked in over 42.87 minutes, so says my trusty Rugrats watch from Burger King.
Just as I was ready to jump out from my silky prison to see if I could even get a reaction from her as I touched up my nipples using her products, the door loudly creaked open, Meg looking positively shifty at its entrance.
"Christine!" she "whispered" yet again, causing me to sigh loudly and obviously on purpose.
Neither ballet rat noticed, however, as they both were aglow with determination to remain oblivious to anything and everything which didn't have to do with chocolates, gossip, and booze. Oh and boys, of course.
"Christine!" Meg asked even though Christine was clearly sitting right before her, though still unresponsive even as Blondie shook her shoulders violently.
"Christine!"
With a slight moan, Christine stood up slowly from the divan, stretching and trudging over to her vanity, her red eyes gleaming.
"I'm sorry Meg," she said, shuffling through the vanity drawers, "I zoned out again."
"Christine," Meg said, as she started almost everything she said with "Christine", "I thought your medication stopped you from doing that!"
Bed head shrugged as she put drops of saline in her eyes.
"I spaced before I remembered to take it."
"Ohhhh, ok," Meg nodded, "So, Christine, where were you last night?"
Where I had previously been trying to block out this extremely lack luster conversation, my formerly disappointed ears perked as they reached a topic that I actually wanted to listen to.
Christine did not immediately her still shifty looking friend, but cast a dreamy expression towards the box on the divan before looking at her reflection in the mirror. Which wasn't nearly as attractive as mine!
"Well…" she began, interrupting my pleasant day dreaming, "do you remember what I told you last night about my Angel of Music?"
"You mean Monsieur Reyer?"
"No! He only makes me call him that when I…well never mind! The other Angel of Music. You know, here in this room he calls me softly? Somewhere inside, hiding?"
"Oh yeah!" Meg said slapping her hand to her forehead, "The one that makes your hands cold and face white?"
"Well…sort of. I'm always rather white, my dad always said that I don't get a tan, I get a pale. And it's always cold in this stupid opera house. Damn cheapskate managers! Anyway, you get the point."
Meg simply nodded as I began hitting my on the floor. Maybe if I killed myself, they would bury me in the dress!
"Ok, well, last night after Raoul asked me out and I said "no way!" and he ran out crying as I told him to save the drama for his Momma, who is also dead, the other Angel of Music came to me! Don't look at me like that Meg! It's not spelled that way! Anyway, he led me down this pretty hallway-"
"Hey!" Meg interrupted, "I went down that hallway, but it sucked ass! There were rats and everything!"
"That's because Erik a.k.a. the other Angel of Music knew you were going to go down it in a curiously stupid attempt to find out where I was. He put the rats out to make fun of the fact that you are and will always be a meager ballet rat."
"Oh…" Meg replied, looking rather put out.
Christine smirked and continued her fascinating recount of the events from the previous evening.
"When we got to his lair, which is extremely magazine-esk for being in the fugly cellars, he sang to me as I had yet another "zoning out" episode. I remember a lot of hip wagging and hand gestures, but that's about it. I woke up in a beautiful bed shaped like some sort of water fowl, as a creepy little monkey box woke me up. I think it was an alarm or Erik purposely turned it on so I would wake up as I had probably been snoring and my face was stuck to the pillow because of all the drool…"
Meg pulled a face, but Christine ignored her.
'Goddammit, fuzzy! Hurry up! This material is really itchy!' I thought angrily, glaring daggers at her and scratching myself.
"And then…I can't remember anything else! Something about a face in the mask, and I was called "little viper", which I took offense to because I my teeth are not that sharp, whatever he may say. He did have hickies on his neck…but maybe it was just a rash…but even if it was me, I didn't hear him complaining at the time! Jesus Christ Superstar! Ok…where was I? Oh yes, and then I remember being outside that mirror door over yonder and Erik tossing me that large box, telling me that he needed me to "'be a good little girl and not tell anyone what was in the box, because he would get it all sorted out,"' and after much grunting and moaning because the box is rather heavy, I sat down and then you came."
"Ohhhh, ok," Meg said simply as the story finished.
Then there was silence…I could hear both of their miniscule brains crash and burn as they tried to think of what to do next.
"Well, we've got practice, as we are performing an entirely new opera immediately after Hannibal with no break period whatsoever. You coming?" Meg asked, heading towards the door.
"Nah, I think I'll forget to take my medication again and space out some more," Christine answered jovially.
"Alright! Have fun!"
"You bet!"
They waved goodbye to each other and Meg closed the door, leaving Christine to her…sitting.
Not caring if I was discovered which seemed pretty unlikely as Christine looked very far gone already, I untagled myself from the dress, brushing off the excess glitter and exiting the room.
Extremely pleased to have escaped that hot air chamber, (get it?), I raced back to the dormitories eager to have a place to settle my troubling thoughts.
'How could Erik take her down to the "love nest"!' I screamed to myself, kicking one of the sheep from Il Muto in anger.
As the animal squealed, or made whatever noise sheep make when they are angry, and stampeded down the brightly lit hallway causing quite a ruckus, I tried to look at the good side of the situation.
"Well, at least he didn't dance for her," I whispered evilly to myself, earning several blank stares from the stage hands.
Sticking my tongue out at them, I completed the walk to the dormitories much more calmly than before. As I stepped over the still passed out ballet rats lying on the floor, clutching bottles of Jack Daniels to their bosoms as if their lives depended on it, I made my way to my bed to reminisce on the first time Erik brought me down to his lair.
It's so special that it deserves its own chapter!
Wahoo! I finally finished this chapter! The muffin bit was a nod to Random-Battlecry's Who's Lair is it Anyway, which I have always found hilarious even though half of it doesn't make sense. Well, that's the beauty of phiction, isn't it? Please review! Love and Peace! Kupo!