Night of the Living Out of Character People

Revenge of the Angel of Music

After five hours of being locked in the garden with his weepy counterpart, two very un-Raoul like Raouls and a slutty Christine who would not stop hitting on anything that moved, the real Erik had had enough.

"Where's your Punjab lasso when you need one?"

Shoving Smutstine off his arm for the umpteenth time that day, he finally went up to the de Chagny's back garden door and rapped on it, whimpering, "Um, can I come in now?"

Raoul said something through the door which came out a muffled mess to the trap door lover, and had to ask him to repeat. Raoul instead threw open and window and replied, "I said, 'no.'"

The Angel of Music paused, and asked, "Please?"

"Erik, you tried to kill me, my wife, and the occupants of the Paris Opera House! And don't think I've forgotten what you did to my brother! Excuse me if I'm just a tad bit annoyed at you."

"But look at them!" the Phantom of the Opera cried, pointing to the lunatics in the garden. "I'm going insane!"

"You already are insane."

"If I apologize for the whole torture chamber thing, can I come in?"

"No."

"Please?"

Raoul shut the window, and Erik sighed, settling down onto a garden bench.

"'s'all right, chap!" cried Rodney, still painfully drunk. "It's nice outside."

"I dislike outside. I'm a reclusive person."

"Reclusive! But, well, look, man, all the women are outside!" Rodney pointed out Smutstine, who was now hitting on the upset Rupert, and Erik simply stared at Rodney.

"Yeah, um, how about not?"

"Tsk, tsk," Rodney said, heaving his bottle back to his lips. "There's no accounting for taste."

"You can say that again."

…

"I said keep it down out there!"

A very annoyed Raoul slammed his garden door, storming back to his bedroom. Augustine was only barely asleep, and Christine was trying to patiently work on knitting.

"Raoul, darling, I don't think they'll listen."

"It's nearly eleven! They'll wake the neighbors!"

"There's only so many things you can throw at them, and they're still just as loud as before."

"But did you see me? I clipped the sobby Erik right on the head!"

"That's excellent, love."

Raoul crawled into bed next to his wife, rubbing at tired eyes. "I don't know if I can stand much more of this. I mean, just one Erik is one thing, but there's two of them! And there's two of me, and that…indelicately dressed female outside is-"

"Raoul, darling, stop now if you want to live to see grandchildren."

"Yes, dear."

Suddenly, at the bedroom doorway stood Augustine in his footy pajamas, clutching his teddy. "Mummy! The scary people outside are upsetting Mr. Boo," he whimpered, holding up the ratty stuffy. Christine quickly put down the knitting, rushing to her son and scooping him up, rocking him back and forth in her arms.

"There, there, little love!"

"Enough's enough, Christine," snarled Raoul, getting up. "I'm not having them wake up Augustine. God knows it takes two glasses of warm milk, four bedtimes stories, and a couple of good sound lullabies to get him unconscious in the first place."

Christine brushed a lock of limp blond hair from her eyes, sighing. The whole mess was straining on all of them. "Well…."

"Come on, love, please? I'll just get out my old naval p-"

"No! No violence! What sort of example is that for our son?"

"Umm…that his dad's a big macho guy who can take on the Phantom of the Opera?"

"We already know that, dear."

"So, um…that's still a no, isn't it?"

"It's still a no. However," she added, settling her baby boy into the bed, "if you can think of some other, more creative ways to get rid of them, that's alright by me."

"This isn't going to be like that time when I had to get the preacher to get rid of the mice in the walls because you didn't like the traps, did you?"

"A little love of God, and those things would have gone away!"

"Accept they didn't, and we had to eventually baptize them. But they still come around on Easter and Christmas." (Insert drum set sound here.)

"I don't care," Christine said, jaw firm, sapphire eyes sparkling. "I want them gone, but I don't want anybody hurt in the process."

"What about me? What if I'm hurt?"

She kissed him on the cheek. "Then I'll make up for it later."

Raoul sighed, there was no way to win against that sort of trick. "Alright, fine…I'll give it a week with the creative traps. But if they're still not gone, good example or bad example for Augustine, I am doing things my way, Christine."

"I wouldn't worry on it, dear heart. In a week, you'll have thought of something extremely clever."

Raoul climbed back into bed, rubbing his eyes. "I certainly hope so."

They turned out the light then, allowing Augustine to snuggle with them for the night.

Outside, however, was a different matter.

"Argh! Get her off! Get her off!"

"Oh, but Erik, you're so attract-"

The Phantom of the Opera had shoved Smutstine forcibly off of him, sending her colliding into Serik. "I swear," he twitched, "you sad little excuse for a ballet rat and a harlot, if you come within five feet of me with less on then you have now, I won't need a Punjab lasso to strangle you."

"'S'all right, darling," Rodney slurred, helping the perturbed girl to her feet. "I'm up for a round of strip hazard, even if he's not."

Would Erik escape any more of Smutstine's offers of undressing while playing wholesome card games? How would Rodney's hangover be in the morning? Would Rupert ever stop hyperventilating? Most important of all, how on earth was Raoul ever to get them out of there? Well, maybe you'll find out in the next exciting chapter….A New Erik!