Disclaimer: I own a larynx that makes a better evil laugh than Madame Giry's. Other than that, I own nothing.

I'm mad, because I actually procrastinated on my bioethics homework to finish a chapter yesterday, and the stupid thing wouldn't upload. It made me sad. Kept having problems.

Notes to reviewers:

free2befroody: I almost forgot about the French taunter! Blasphemy on my part, methinks. I'll put it into a scene, most likely when Erik's Punjabbing Raoul.

Robika: I have the Monty Python episode with Arthur "Two-Sheds" Jackson...I'll have to watch it again to see if I can fit it into somewhere, but I can't think of any way yet. Maybe I'll have a brief interlude from the plot to go back to my music history class and talk about Erik "OG" Gambolputty de von etc.

I'd love to hear ideas from people from what I should include...I'll see if I can fit it in.

And now...

ON WITH THE SHOW!

Meanwhile, Andre shuffled some papers with a worried look on his face. "Um...Firmin? Have you seen these numbers?"

"What numbers?"

"We sold out for tonight. Apparently, there's a lot of masochistic people who'd pay a lot to see this."

Firmin, always the greedy penny-pincher, screamed. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Mme Giry intervened before Firmin threw a temper tantrum. "By the way, gentlemen, I shall choose this inopportune time to tell you that I have a letter from the Opera Ghost--"

Firmin was sufficiently distracted. "Where'd you get the letter?"

"...What?"

"Well," Firmin reasoned, "he couldn't have handed it to you, since that would destroy the whole ghost effect. So how did you get it?"

"It fell to me from up there!" Mme Giry explained, pointing towards the ceiling.

"Are you saying that the Phantom flies?" Firmin scoffed.

Mme Giry spoke patiently as though talking to a young child. (It was very clear that she was a mother.) "The letter could have been carried by something that flies."

"What, a swallow or something?" Firmin asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Mme Giry considered this for a moment. "I think we'd notice a swallow in here, so I think more along the lines of...a mosquito!"

"What, a mosquito carrying a letter?"

"It could grip it by the wax seal!"

"It's not a question of where it grips it! It's a simple question of weight ratios! A tiny little mosquito could not carry a letter with that much wax on it!"

Mme Giry started to get fed up with this conversation. "Well, it doesn't matter. Will you please just read the letter?"

Apparently, he wouldn't. "Listen, in order to maintain air-speed velocity, a mosquito has to beat its wings--"

So much for the motherly patience. "Please! I am not interested! Will you just read the--"

Andre butted in at this moment with his own helpful contribution. "Wait, supposing two mosquitoes carried it together? They could put their proboscides in the seal!"

"What, into the eyes?" Firmin asked, frowning as he considered this theory.

"Well, why not?"

"AUUUUUUUUUUGH!" Mme Giry screamed and tore at her hair. "Look, I'll freaking read it to you! 'Greetings, and welcome to my opera house. Yeah, that's right, MINE. You think you bought it? HOW WRONG YOU ARE! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!'"

"That's a great evil laugh, Mom," Meg told her.

Mme Giry smiled proudly, cleared her throat, and continued. "'So anyway, just remember to chuck me the cash--'"

"What cash?" Andre interrupted.

Mme Giry gestured impatiently. "That's what I've been trying to tell you for freaking ages. You owe the Phantom twenty thousand francs a month--"

"TWENTY THOUSAND FRANCS?" Firmin screeched.

"Yup, and an opera box, too. Box five."

Firmin fumed and, like a mathematician (A/N: I can say this because my other major, besides music, is math), reduced it to a previous problem. (Which unfortunately hadn't been solved yet, so it was like a really sucky mathematician.) "Well, I don't see why the hell he'd want to watch it tonight, since we obviously can't have the show without someone singing the lead!"

Mme Giry, ever the problem-solver, pulled out a girl from the chorus. "Christine Daae's been taking lessons from a great teacher."

"Who?" Andre asked skeptically.

"Christine Daae."

"No, no, who's the teacher?" He this time addressed the shy blonde (read the book, darn it) who was trying to avoid attention by shrinking back into the group.

"I...don't know, sir," she said, glaring at Mme Giry for making her appear stupid.

"Then how have you been making out the checks?" Firmin asked, his one-track mind proving that it was stuck on money.

"I don't pay for lessons, either," Christine said. Great, now she appeared stupid AND poor.

Mme Giry smirked. "Nope, that's your job, Messieurs."

"WHAT?" Firmin exploded, seeing yet another expense.

"I repeat, twenty thousand francs a month." Gee, I wonder who the teacher could be, then?

Andre chose to ignore that comment. "Free singing lessons? What good are those?"

"Let her sing for you, monsieur. She has been well taught." Mme Giry motioned for Christine to audition.

Christine stepped nervously to the front of the stage. Reyer began conducting with mixed emotions. After all, she couldn't be worse than Carlotta...but then again...what if she WAS?

His fears were unfounded. From the moment Christine's mouth opened, it was clear that she surpassed any singer anyone in that room had ever heard. "Think of me...think of me fondly when we've said goodbye...remember me once in a while, please promise me you'll try..."

Everyone stared, entranced and shocked, at the chorus girl. Everyone except Erik, whose stare was drooling and lovesick instead.

"When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me!"

And then, quite suddenly, everyone in the room fell through a wormhole and landed in the future, where they realized that it was Act Three of the opera's performance and their clothes had changed. Christine was the most shocked of all, noticing that the audience's eyes were fixed on her. She recovered rather quickly, thinking to herself, "Well, at least I was already singing the song. I could have been in the bathroom or something embarrassing like that."

She sang the rest of the song beautifully. All that remains to be mentioned is that some stupid rich childhood boyfriend of hers suddenly noticed that she was female and gorgeous, and he made the mistake of cheering for her a bit too enthusiastically during an orchestral interlude. And this did not go unnoticed by a certain person with the initials E. G. d. v. A. s. s. c. d. d. d. d. d. B. v. k. t. a. b. h. t. g. k. s. g. g. s. k. h. b. g. B. e. n. b. g. m. w. l. h. g. s. k. m. a. v. H... o. U., who was very annoyed. Mainly because that stupid moron Raoul was sitting in his box, and even ghosts find that a bit cramped.