Happy Boxing Day, y'all! I hope you all had a great Christmas!

I got a Forensic Facial Reconstruction Kit! I'm so happy!

Erik got popcorn in a Spongebob tin…

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I got lots of great feedback! And Gasp, if you're actually reading these pointless A/N's, I kinda stole some stuff from your bio to write this chapter. Hope you don't mind!

Oh, and Mrs. Gerard Butler would like to make this little announcement:

"I HATE CHRISTINE! I AM NOT AN E/C SHIPPER! CHRISTINE MUST DIE!"

And there you have it… Onto the next chapter…

XxXxX

Fop-Torture for Dummies

I awoke to the sound of chaos… Big surprise…

"At this rate," I thought miserably, "I'm going to have to build a sound-proof room to sleep in with a dozen padlocks on the door… What's going on now?"

"Get off of me!" I heard Erik cry out. "It has claws! It scratches! Get it away!"

Then something furry jumped onto my back, digging in all four sets of razor sharp claws. I jumped in my chair, letting out a cry of pain. The thing on my back climbed upwards, using its claws, and then perched on my shoulder. I turned my head to look at it, but all I saw was a bunch of orange fuzz.

"Ginger!" I cried as my kitty jumped off my shoulder and sat gracefully on the edge of my desk. "How'd you get in here?"

"Is the other one yours, too?" VagrantCandy asked.

I looked around. Sure enough, a little calico cat was clinging to Erik's chest as the poor man struggled to pry her off.

"Cinnamon!" I cried. "Get off of Erik! Come here!"

Cinnamon paused and shot Erik a look that could only be described as evil. She retracted her claws and landed on the floor on her feet, then jogged over to me and leapt up onto the desk beside her brother.

"Those little demons are yours?" Erik cried. "They're freakin' evil!"

I stroked Cinnamon between the ears. "Don't you listen to that nasty, ugly man," I told her. "He doesn't know nothing… You're adorable! Yes, you are!"

Erik scoffed. "I detest furry things!"

"Then you won't like my trusty sidekick," Skibby said as she pulled a ball of grey fuzz out of her pocket.

"What is that thing?" Erik demanded as he stared at the little animal with a scrutinizing gaze.

"This is Snortleby, my vicious attack chinchilla."

Erik snorted. "Indeed. What does it do? Pee on people?"

Skibby shrugged. "No. But watch this!" She looked at the little ball of fuzz. "Snortleby? Attack!"

The little chinchilla growled and leapt, latching onto Erik's throat. Erik fell back onto the couch and grasped at the little animal.

"Get it off! Get it off!" he screamed.

"Snortleby?" Skibby said. "Heel."

The chinchilla released Erik and returned to its mistress. Skibby picked it up and placed it on my desk next to Cinnamon and Ginger. Cinnamon eyed the little rodent with mild interest, but then turned away quickly. All it did was sit still, and that was no fun! As for Ginger, he was too busy licking his butt to notice anything.

"That thing nearly killed me!" Erik cried indignantly. "What, do I need to get protection now?"

"Oh, I'll protect you!" A girl whom I have never seen before jumped forward. She had long, thick hair that fell all the way to her waist, and she carried a sword. She ran over to where Erik sat on the couch and knelt before him. "I am the Hair," she said humbly. Then she laid her sword in Erik's hands. "I offer you my service. I shall protect you and help you in any way I possibly can, until you escape or until death claims me… And as my first act of service, I shall make breakfast for everyone! Who feels like brownie pancakes?"

The Hair ran off to make breakfast and Erik just sat still on the couch. His left eye started twitching.

"Hey!" Mrs. Malfoy cried. "I wanted to make breakfast for Erik!" She followed the Hair to the kitchen. On her way out, she tripped over Hollom and Emma, who were both still asleep in a rather… compromising position… They both woke up and, upon realizing just how they were sleeping, blushed crimson and jumped away from each other.

"Um… uh… right…" Hollom muttered.

Then I noticed an odd structure in the corner. "What's that?" I asked.

"We made a tent out of sleeping bags last night," Opera Dove said proudly. "I think DarkSilverMaiden is still inside."

I peeked inside the 'tent' and sure enough, there was DarkSilverMaiden, curled up with her Fop-Doll.

Spongekid appeared on the scene. "Awwww!" she squealed. "They're so cute!"

DarkSilverMaiden stirred, snuggling closer to the doll. "Mmmm, Erik…" she muttered in her sleep. "You're so soft…"

Erik shuddered. "She's dreaming of me while cuddling the Fop!"

DarkSilverMaiden stirred a bit more. Then her eyes fluttered open. It took her a moment to register what exactly was in her arms. Then she shot upright, knocking over the tent as she did so. The sleeping bags collapsed on top of her. She thrashed around, trying to escape. Finally, a head with mussed hair emerged.

"Ew!" she cried. "I hate Raoul!" She began shuddering and twitching. "I never wanna see him first thing in the morning ever again!" She jumped to her feet, grabbing the doll and yanking it up. "Where's the torture chamber? I'm not a morning person, and I've got some anger to vent!"

"Oh, come now," Erik grinned. "Are you sure you want to do that to your beloved Fop?" He started making kissing sounds.

DarkSilverMaiden turned on him. "You know Erik, if you weren't giving me lessons on world domination, I would cut off your supply of sweets for good!"

I looked at Erik. "You're giving her lessons on what?"

"But," DarkSilverMaiden continued, "since you are giving me lessons, I suppose that you could have this large bar of extra dark chocolate." She held up a bar of dark Hershey chocolate.

Erik looked at the bar with awe. "Ooh… Can I touch the bar of extra dark chocolate? Can I hold the bar of extra dark chocolate?" He reached for it.

DarkSilverMaiden snatched it back. "On one condition!" She unwrapped the bar and broke it in two. "You give me half." She looked at a small group of rabid phans who were just a bit more rabid than the rest. "You can play with my Fop-Doll now…"

The rabid phans attacked the poor doll, and Spinner grimaced. "I'd pity Raoul if he actually showed up…"

Erik sat on the couch and watched with amusement as the Raoul-doll got the stuffing kicked out of it (literally). Lonemutant slid beside him.

"Ya know what?" she said. "I know a guy who reminds me of Raoul… his name is Scot."

"How interesting," Erik said, not really paying attention to her.

Lonemutant just sat and stared at him for the longest time. Finally, Erik grew restless. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

She continued to stare at him. "You know, I think you are not treated like you should be. Your whole life's purpose seems to be based entirely upon entertaining phan girls like myself. You deserve more."

Erik studied her intensely. "You're up to something…"

She looked offended. "I am not!"

"Are too!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

Lonemutant paused. "OK… I guess I am…" Lightning-quick she whipped out a lighter and lit it up, bringing it dangerously close to Erik's (synthetic) hair. He grabbed her wrists, holding her at bay.

"What in the name of all things holy do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"I just wanted to light your wig on fire," she said innocently.

"Just wanted… What? What is wrong with you?" He blew on her lighter, snuffing out the flame.

Lonemutant gasped. "Look what you did!" she shrieked. "You killed it!"

Another phan jumped on Erik. "You bad, bad man!" she cried, beating him with her fists. "What did that poor little flame do to you?"

"Who are you?" I asked.

She looked at me. "I'm Carla, the Hair's sister!" Then she turned and glared at Erik. "You are so cruel to your pyromaniac phans!"

"Oh, leave him alone!" Padme said, shoving the girl aside. "He's all mine!"

Erik shifted nervously on the couch as Padme crawled into his lap and linked her arms around his neck. She smiled at him sweetly. "You know what, Erik? We have a lot in common…"

Erik licked his lips nervously. "Mademoiselle? Can you…? Please… Off of me?"

Padme ignored him, as though she hadn't heard him. "Both of us want to kill someone…" She glared at MJ. "Goody-goody Jedi," she muttered. "Both of us are geniuses… Both of us are pyromaniacs…"

"What the–? I'm not a pyromaniac!"

"Then how do you explain all those candles in your lair, hmm?" Padme asked. She had a point. "Both of us are gorgeous beyond belief," she continued. "And… oh, whatever! We're soul mates!"

"Angel, help!" Erik shrieked.

"Marry me, Erik!" Padme cried, huggling him like a tent in typhoon.

"You don't understand!" Erik cried, prying her off his lap and dumping her on the floor. "Tadriendra said I have to stay single until all phans die of natural causes!"

"Besides," MJ said. "Aren't you hopelessly devoted to Darth Vader?" She indicated the tall dark Sith lord in the corner.

"Oh, yes, of course," Padme said seductively, sidling up close to Vader. "Let's make beautiful dark empires together."

"You do realize," Carla spoke up, "that 'Vader' is just Justin in a stupid space outfit?"

"What?" Padme ripped off Vader's helmet, and sure enough, there was the Insane Justin. Padme's eyes blazed. "You mean you're not really Darth Vader?"

"Um…" Justin mumbled. "Er… uh… um…"

Padme seethed. "Now I have no choice but to use my dark and powerful knowledge of the Force to punish you! You're doomed!" The cliché thunder and lighting sounded. Padme snapped her fingers and a furry little creature appeared by Justin's left foot.

"Squirrel!" he shrieked. Justin ran around the room, and the little squirrel chased after him. Ginger and Cinnamon jumped to life upon seeing the small furry animal run around the room. They leapt from my desk and chased after it. Justin leapt up onto the couch and the squirrel dove into the pantry, seeking an escape from the evil felines that chased it.

"Padme, make that poor squirrel disappear before my cats maul it," I said.

Padme obliged. With another snap of her fingers and more cliché thunder and lightning, the little squirrel disappeared. Justin curled up on the couch in the foetal position, slowly rocking himself back and forth.

"Padme, that wasn't nice," I reprimanded her. "Look at what you've done to poor Justin. He's foaming at the mouth. You've put him into a state of panic. That's not good at all." I moved over to the couch and rolled Justin over onto his stomach. "You need to relax," I told him as I began working my magic fingers on his back.

"Ew, Angel," Erik made a face. "Are you coming on to him?"

"Nonsense!" I said indignantly. "But eight out of ten Spirit Borne dancers find my massages immensely relaxing and soothing… If I can't calm this guy down, nothing will!" I paused. "Of course, it always helps to have a little background music… Hey, Erik? Can you sing something?"

"Oh, yes!" Robika cried. "Sing a musical! You could do something from Wicked and you could be Fiyero! Or Cats, as the Rum Tum Tugger! Or Les Miserables, as Jean Valjean! Or Rent, as Roger! Or Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, as Joseph! Or Beauty and the Beast, as the Beast! Or Grease, as Danny! Or–"

"Or The Phantom of the Opera," Erik cut her off rudely. "As myself!"

"Yes, do a play!" Padme cried. "And then maybe Meg will somehow wander into the closet, and she could act the heroine opposite your hero! Then you'll find yourself reluctantly falling for her, to the triumphant joy of all ErikxMeg fans!"

"Or you could do an opera," Robika continued. "Like Faust, or Aida, or Carmen, or La Forza del Destino!"

"We just need a little background music, not two-hour entertainment!" I cut in. "Just put Rent on your iPod and let Justin listen to it…"

"You know, I do a really good Carlotta impression," Mima said. "Wanna see? THIS TROOOOOOPHYYYYYYY FROM OUR SAVIOURS, FROM OUR SAAAAAAAAAAAAVIOURS!"

"My ears are bleeding!" Erik cried, shoving his head under a couch cushion.

"I have an alter ego named Etcy," Mima continued. "She does a really good Christine… Oh, we could sing Angel of Music! You know, the one with Meg and Christine?" She grinned. "EM forever…"

Erik pulled his head out from the pillow and scoffed. "Another schizo! Angel, your friends are weird!"

"Weird!" Gasp cried. She jumped into his lap with a big smile on her face. "I knew it! You like me! You really like me!" She twitched. "Tremble before the Sith!" she growled menacingly. She shook her head. "Whoa, what happened?" She twitched again. "Oh no! Every muse – except Raoul, of course – is in my mind again! NOOOOO!"

Erik drew back from her slightly. "Angel? Her eyes are rolling back into her head. Wow, this is almost exactly like this one scene from The Exorcist!"

"Evil Sith, you must turn back!" Gasp raged. "Volo, turn back!" She clutched her head. "Shut up! I need peace!" Then her eyes glazed over. "No more talk of darkness… Forget these wide-eyed… No! Raoul's gotten to me, too!" She beat her head against Erik's shoulder.

Erik looked scared. "Eep! Make it stop, Angel! Make it stop!"

Gasp paused. "Come back to the right side! You were the one!" She hesitated. "Who are you? I am you… I am too!" Gasp closed her eyes. "The dark aura around her is growing… NOOOOOO! She swore to destroy the evil she is now! She will come back!" Then she laughed out loud. "Think again! The Dark Side will triumph! Muhahaha!" She scowled. "Will you all keep it down? I am trying to compose… Dark! Light! Dark! Light! This is fun!" She turned and looked at Erik. "I am now utterly confuzzled… Who are you, again?"

Erik got an evil look and smiled. "Why… I'm your conscience…"

Gasp's eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Oh, yes," Erik replied. "We haven't spoken in a while… How've you been?"

Gasp shrugged. "Same old…"

Oh, no!" We heard a shriek from the kitchen. Mrs. Malfoy emerged a moment later. "This is terrible!" she cried. "Erik's out of coffee!"

I snapped my fingers. "Oops… Next time I go to Timmy's, I've gotta remember to pick up another one of those holiday coffee canisters…"

"This is terrible!" Mrs. Malfoy continued. "What are we going to do?"

"Well, I don't drink coffee anyway," Emma said. "But hot chocolate always gives me the evil boost I need every morning before I go torture Erik…"

"Oh, OK…" Moments later, Mrs. Malfoy and the Hair were passing out steaming cups of hot chocolate to everyone. The Hair dropped a small wrapped package into Erik's lap when she handed him his mug.

"What might this be?" Erik asked, eyeing the package warily.

"It's a belated Christmas present," the Hair said.

Erik opened it up. "It's skimpy lingerie!" he exclaimed.

"I know," the Hair grinned. "I thought you might like me to model them for you later this evening…"

Erik put the garments(?) back in the box and crossed his arms. "So was this supposed to be a Christmas gift to me or to you?"

The Hair shrugged. "Kind of to both of us…"

"Oh, no!" KZ suddenly cried. "Angel! I just realized something horrible! While we we've all been stuck in the closet, we missed Thanksgiving!"

I furrowed my brow. "No we didn't… Thanksgiving was in October…"

"What are you talking about? Thanksgiving was last month!"

"No it wasn't. It was…" I paused. "Oh… I get it… American Thanksgiving was last month… Sorry, you're in Canada… Our Thanksgiving was over long ago…"

"Canada!" a new girl happily shrieked. "I love Canada! Canada's cool! We've got Shania Twain! We've got Jim Carey! We've got Anne Murray! And… and… maple syrup!"

"Uh… Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm xAngelxofxMusicx!" she said gleefully.

"Oh… so should we call you Angel?"

"That won't do!" Shadow exclaimed. "Your name is Angel!"

"How about Music?" Blueflamewolf suggested.

"That'll work."

"Oh, great," Erik muttered from his place on the couch. "Another Eskimo-hugging Canuck from Ontario…"

"Hey!" Music cried. "What is so bad about being from Ontario? Ontario is cool! We have the capital of Canada! And Ottawa! And… a bunch of other cool places! And… we have Tim Horton's! Yes!"

"Oh, you just think you're better 'cause you can say 'eh' and 'aboot' and you can play hockey all year long outdoors," WanderingTeen accused. "I'm onto you!"

"Wait a minute…" Padme said. "Ottawa is the capital of Canada. Perhaps you're thinking of Toronto?"

"I hate Toronto!" Erik hissed.

"Why is that, Erik?" I asked.

"Why? Why? Let me sing you a song about it!" He turned to Robika. "Music cue, please."

Robika picked up Squiffie and started playing a tune.

"I hate the Skydome and the CN Tower too," Erik began. "I hate Nathan Phillips Square and the Ontario Zoo. The rent's too high, the air's unclean, the beaches are dirty and the people are mean, and the women are big, and the men are dumb, and the children are loopy 'cause they live in a slum. The water is polluted and the mayor's a dork. They dress real bad and they think they're New York in Toronto, Ontario…"

I shrugged. "I guess you hold a valid point…"

Erik paused thoughtfully. "You know, actually, I think I hate all of Ontario…" He continued. "I hate Thunder Bay and Ottawa, Kitchener, Windsor, and Oshawa. London sucks and the Great Lakes suck, and Sarnia sucks and Turkey Point sucks. I took a trip to Ontario to visit Brian Mulrooney. He beat me up and he stole my pants and he put me in a tree. I went to see the Maple Leafs and got hit in the head with a puck…" Erik paused. "I don't even know how they did it… I was playing the organ at the time!" He shrugged. "Ontario sucks!"

"I love the Maple Leafs!" I squealed. "Only they really suck this season… The Sens are doing better than us!"

Then Erik stood up on the couch. "Actually, now that I really think about it, I think I pretty much hate every gosh darn province and territory in this country! Except Alberta. Yeah, I love Alberta… Lots of cows, trees, rocks, dirt…"

"Oh, sure," VagrantCandy said. "Let's hear your reasons!"

Erik smirked. "OK… I hate Newfoundland 'cause they talk so weird and Prince Edward Island is too small. Nova Scotia's dumb 'cause it's the name of a bank. New Brunswick doesn't have a good mall. Quebec is revolting and it makes me mad. Ontario sucks, Ontario sucks!"

"Hey!" Estelle said. "Manitoba's population density is 1.9 people per square kilometre. Now isn't that stupid?"

Erik looked at her irritably. "As I was saying… Saskatchewan is boring and the people are old. And as for the territories, they're too cold! And the only really good thing about the province of British Columbia is that it's right next to the US, 'cause America doesn't suck! But Washington does…"

"Hah, you see?" Invaderoperaghost said. "Straight from Erik's mouth… all of Canada sucks!"

I smiled evilly. "Shall I sing an song, now? How about one the War of 1812!"

Erik looked scared. "Uh, Angel? I don't think that's such a good idea. You might get killed…" Then he paused. "Wait a minute… that's not a bad thing! In that case, sing Angel!"

I began slowly. "Oh come back, proud Canadians, to before you had TV. No hockey night in Canada, there was no CBC…"

InThisLabyrinth looked shocked. "No way! No CBC? What the Hell is CBC, anyway?"

I continued. "In 1812, Madison was mad. He was the president, you know. Well, he thought he'd tell the British where they ought to go. He thought he'd invade Canada. He thought that he was tough. Instead we went to Washingtoooooooooooonnnnnnnnn…" I paused dramatically. "And burned down all his stuff! And the White House burned, burned, burned, and we're the ones that did it! It burned, burned, burned, while the president ran and cried! It burned, burned, burned, and things were very historical! And the Americans ran and cried like a bunch of little babies, wah-wah-wah, in the War of 1812!"

KZ frowned. "Hey… that's not how I heard it in history class!"

I kept on singing, not caring that all the phans who live south of the border were starting to look a little annoyed.

"Those hillbillies from Kentucky dressed in green and red. Left home to fight in Canada, but they returned home dead! It's the only war the Yankees lost except for Vietnam, and also the Alomo and the Bay of Ham! The loser was America, the winner was ourselves. So join right in and gloat about the War of 1812!"

Tad crossed her arms. "I don't like this song…"

Music belted out the next verse like a drunken farmer. "In 1812 we were just sitting around, minding our own business, putting crops into the ground. We heard the soldiers coming, and we didn't like that sound. So we took a boat to Washington and burned it to the ground!"

Padme took over the next verse. "Oh, we fired our guns but the Yankees kept on a-coming. There wasn't quite as many as there was a while ago. We fired once more and the Yankees started running down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico!"

VagrantCandy sang the next part. "They ran through the snow and they ran through the forest! They ran through the bushes where the beavers wouldn't go! They ran so fast they forgot to take their culture! Back to America, and Gulf and Mexico!" The tempo slowed. "So if you go to Washington, it's building's clean and nice. Bring a pack of matches…"

Then all the Canadian phans sang. "And we'll burn the White House twice!"

Mrs. Butler looked absolutely homicidal. "Now we know you're making that up! It totally didn't go that way!"

"And the White House burned, burned, burned, but the Americans won't admit it! It burned, burned, burned, it burned and burned and burned, it burned, burned, burned, I bet that made them mad! And the Americans ran and cried like a bunch of little babies, wah-wah-wah, in the War of 1812!"

"That's it!" Carla said. "You're gonna pay for that one!"

"Yes!" Erik said jumping up from the couch. "I have the perfect plan! Let us seat her in…" He paused as more cliché thunder and lightning sounded. "The Chair of Impending Doom!"

"The Chair?" Don Juanita squealed. "Yes! Now we learn what the Chair really does!"

Erik hit the red button on the wall, revealing his torture chamber. Before I knew it, a dozen hands grabbed me and sat me down in the Chair. My hands and feet were restrained with leather straps and my head was secured in a strange metal restraining device that kept my face tilted up somewhat. I spotted a strange-looking apparatus above my head. I was starting to get worried.

Erik rubbed his hands together and laughed evilly. "Angel, you have annoyed me incessantly from the moment you bought me off E-Bay. I must say, I don't think I'll ever taste a sweeter revenge…" He moved over to a large switch at the opposite wall. "Prepare to meet your doom!" Then he pulled the switch.

At first, I felt nothing. Then, I felt something. Something cold and wet on my forehead. There it was again! I felt a little bit of water trickle down my face. I looked up and saw the strange apparatus that I had noticed earlier. It was steadily dripping water onto my forehead.

The rabid phans watched in silence for a moment. Finally, Don Juanita spoke up. "When does the torture begin?"

Erik smirked. "The torture has already begun!"

The Crickets of Impending Doom filled the silence left by the other phans. Then Erik of the Mask spoke. "That's it?"

"What do you mean, that's it?" Erik demanded. "Angel will be writhing and begging for mercy in no time!"

"But all you're doing is dripping water on her head," Darklady pointed out.

"Ah, yes," Erik said. "But just watch… the pressure of a single drop of water will build and build to the point of total agony. Soon, every drop that hits her forehead will feel like a hammer pounding nails into her skull." Erik smiled proudly. "It's called Chinese water-torture."

DarkSilverMaiden crossed her arms. "I think an Evil Grapefruit Spoon of Impending Doom would be more effective."

Twenty minutes passed and nothing really happened, other than I found my annoyance growing from the constant dripping on my head. Erik looked at his watch and shrugged.

"It's a slow process, but I'm sure the end result is well worth the wait," he said. "I think I'll grab some popcorn while we're waiting…" He turned around and froze when he saw a pine branch standing upright in the middle of the room. It was decorated with lights and bits of garland. "Where did that thing come from?"

"It's a Christmas tree!" Opera Dove said proudly. "We got bored waiting for Angel to start screaming so we set it up when you weren't looking."

"Yeah, this is taking forever," Music agreed as she sat down in front of the TV and started surfing. "Oh, The Red Green Show is on!"

Erik scowled. "That show sucks!"

Music stuck her tongue out at him. "What do you know? Red Green kicks Canadian Arse! Crispers?" She offered him a bag of crispers.

Tad was pretty bored too, so she started a dance class. They did the Cha-Cha, a conga line, tap, jazz, and ballet, while Skibby's ultra-sparkly disco ball lit up the room. I just sat in the Chair. The water was started to pound a bit, but it was nothing compared to the torture of watching the chaos that continued within the closet.

"Oh, you know who I'd like to dance off with?" Annie giggled. "Someone whose name rhymes with Larc Tayne!"

As if by magic, my PC did its glowy-smoky routine. Then Marc Wayne landed in the middle of the closet with a thump.

"Huh?" He looked around. "Where am I?"

"Oh, Mr. Wayne!" Tad waved at him. "Wanna dance?"

Unfortunately, when Marc hears those words, he can't resist spending the next two hours trying to teach everyone within sight a ridiculously complex hip-hop dance. It didn't take long for everyone to get annoyed with him, and soon Marc was getting shoved into the torture chamber with me.

"What to use on the annoying Mr. Wayne?" Erik mused as his eyes scanned his vast array of torture-tools.

"I know!" KZ said. "Let's duck-tape him to the wall and light a fire under him!"

Marc looked scared. I glared at him. "That's what you get for shaking your booty in front of my mother!" I growled.

"I swear I didn't see her!" he cried. "Oh, to heck with this bunch! I'm outta here!" He tore free from the group and dove through my PC's monitor.

"Damn," Erik muttered. "I could have had fun with him…"

"Oh, well," Phantasy said, pulling out her laptop. "Angel can be my captive audience." She set up the laptop in front of me. "I'm going to force you to watch several hours worth of video and pictures of Hugh Panaro, including my personal favourite… his entire final Broadway performance as the Phantom that someone, uh… coughillegallycough shot for me." She pressed play on the laptop.

"NOOOO!" I shrieked. "Anything but that! Make it stop! Make it stop!"

Erik scowled. "She's immune to classic Chinese water-torture, but she can't stand a stupid chick flick?"

Spinner perked up. "Phantom of the Opera? A chick flick? I didn't know chick flicks had Punjab lassos!"

Well, the closet crew grew bored listening to my moans of pain at watching Hugh Panaro, so while they waited for the hard-core torture to kick in, they started a game of poker… not just regular poker, though…

Strip poker…

"Hah! Royal Flush!" Skibby cried triumphantly as she laid her hand down. She grinned cheekily at Erik. "Now get your gear off, loser…"

Erik blushed, looking down at his current apparel… He wasn't very good at poker, and all he had on was a pair of black boxers and his mask and wig. Most of the girls least resistant to the image of Erik half-naked had already swooned and fainted. With a resigned sigh, Erik gave up his wig.

"I hate this game," he muttered.

"You're doing all your phans a favour," Elly said helpfully. "What phan-girl hasn't fantasized about their favourite masked grouch undressing?"

Tad glanced over at me in the torture chamber. "Are you sure that Chair of Doom works?" she asked Erik.

"No," he said gruffly.

Tad gave him a look. "You don't?"

"No, I don't… Because it's not the 'Chair of Doom.'" He rolled his eyes. "It's the Chair of Impending Doom! Get it right!"

Tad frowned. "Well, excuuuuse me!" She paused. "Do you think that after you let Angel out of that Chair she'll let me summon Achilles to the closet and try the Chair on him?"

Erik snorted. "I doubt it… When I'm done with her, she'll be a pathetic, whimpering puddle of human refuse…"

Tad sighed and propped her head up on her hand. "Achilles hasn't talked to me in three weeks… He's in the underground closet-room I built for him, but he's avoiding me… So are Hector, Paris, and all the Boys from Troy… I don't get it…"

"Maybe they're mad at you for holding them captive in an underground room," Erik suggested.

"Or maybe they're planning a special surprise party for you," Erik of the Mask said.

"Or maybe they're making plans to overthrow you and take over the world!" Elly cried.

Tad thought that last one over. "Nah, I doubt they're that ambitious…" Her face lit up and she laid down her hand. "Full House! Take it off, Erik!"

Erik threw down his cards. "That's it! I'm sick of this game! The lot of you must be cheating!" He started searching the floor. "Hey… Where'd my clothes go?"

Skibby stood up on the couch, brandishing a pair of socks. "Looking for these?"

Erik looked up at her. "Hey! Those mine! Give them back!"

"Make me!" Then Skibby got an evil look. She threw the socks to the side and jumped off the couch, landing directly on top of Erik, pinning him to the floor.

"You're cute when you have no clothes on!" Skibby smiled. Then she did something really weird. She leaned down and licked Erik's nose.

"What the–? You're insane!" Erik raised a hand, trying to push her off, but then Skibby bit his fingers.

"Ouch! Get it off of me!" Erik cried as Skibby gnawed on his fingers.

"Outta my way!" KZ shoved Skibby aside. "I'm in a glomping mood!" Then she glomped Erik.

"I just want my clothes back!" Erik cried, crawling away from the strip poker phans. He paused when he came upon another group of the phans, who were huddled close together, whispering and giggling.

"Dare I ask what's going on here?" Erik asked. "Does anyone know what happened to my pants?"

Mrs. Butler turned and, upon seeing Erik in such a state of undress, nearly passed out.

"We're having a drawing contest," Justin said. He held up a piece of paper. "See? It's a rock…"

"And people say I have no imagination…" I muttered from my spot in the Chair.

Erik glared at me. "Shut up and writhe in agony like a good girl!"

"Look what I drew," Hollom said. "It's a moo-fish…"

"A what?" Mrs. Butler said. "That's not a real animal!"

"Yes, it is!" Hollom protested. "I've been a sailor for a good long time… Moo-fish are possibly the most violent creatures of the water! Have you ever been minding your own business sailing a ship when a pod of moo-fish attack? It's not pretty!"

Erik glanced at the page. "It's a cow with fins!"

Hollom nodded vehemently. "Don't be fooled by their seemingly-passive exterior… They kill on sight!"

"Well, look what I drew!" Padme said, holding her picture up with a triumphant smile. "It's a squirrel!"

"AAAAAAHHH!" Justin dove behind the couch.

"Oh, don't worry, Justin," Darklady said. "The squirrels don't pose a threat anymore… It's the polka-dot piggies that are gonna take over! And I'm their leader! Bow to me!"

"You're crazy!" Erik cried. "Every single last one of you is completely crazy! Where are my clothes?" Erik grabbed a blanket off the floor and tied it around his waist – a pitiful attempt at modesty.

It was about this time that Sophie appeared. She was wearing a cross between a dominatrix outfit, an underworld outfit, and a phantom outfit, and was carrying a large box. She set it down and cleared her throat.

Erik paused to look at Sophie, a little weirded out by her outfit. Sophie placed her hands on her hips and looked at him defiantly.

"This box is full of all the music Mozart ever composed," she informed him. "And I am prepared to hand it over to you…"

"Great," Erik said warily. "What's the catch?"

Sophie smirked. "All this will be yours, if you can defeat me in a duel." She held up two bolkins.

"Fight a woman?" Erik laughed. "You are mad!"

Sophie tossed one of the swords to him. "Mad like a fox!" She twirled her own weapon and gave him a cheeky smile. "Now are you a coward, or will you give me the honour of battling with the great Phantom of the Opera?"

XxXxX

Hope you all liked that!

Please review! And remember, if you can think of something funny for me to include in the next chapter, please send me your suggestions! I know I don't always use everything, but sometimes I hold onto stuff for later chapters. Just keep sending me your ideas, I always love them!

Happy holidays, folks!