Alright, one of my readers suggested Erik file for adoption instead of trying to take Victoire Vasser's unborn child, and I just had this funny scenario run through my head. I thought you might enjoy it if I shared it with you all. So here it is, just a little comedy one-shot on what would happen if Erik tried filing for adoption. (of course I don't own POTO)
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"They're certainly prying into very personal matters," Erik muttered angrily as he read over the application. "And these conditions for approval are absolutely ridiculous."
"What makes you say that?" Lenore asked, looking up from her book.
"One requirement is that one parent must be between the ages of 23 and 55," Erik replied. "Absolutely absurd. Does it matter if I exceed the age limit by a hundred years or so?"
"Probably not," Lenore said. "But then again, people get really picky about sticking to rules. You could always file anyway and see if we get approved."
"They also state that I may not be convicted of a crime."
"Well, you've never been on trial, right? So that takes care of it. They didn't say you couldn't commit crimes, just so long as you're not convicted," Lenore told him.
Erik turned the page and looked at the mass of boxes for information that he was required to fill out and sighed. "We lack a home phone number, fax, and email. And business phone numbers as well. We don't really have a street address either; we'd rather have to live at ground level for that," he commented.
"Just give them the address, phone, and fax for the Opera House," Lenore said, going back to her book.
"Why must they know my date of birth?" Erik snarled a few moments later. "I doubt they have records that can confirm my birth anyway. And how does my religion factor into whether or not I'm a suitable parent?"
Lenore rolled her eyes and shut her book. Getting off the couch, she walked over and began looking at the application. "Hm, your lack of health and life insurance might be a problem. Oh damn, there's a family health section. I hate those, now we'll have to attach sheaves of paper to explain all my health 'issues'."
"They require so much," Erik complained, glaring at the question about any past incidents of drug abuse. Did that one use of it just the other night count? After all, they couldn't hold him responsible for his addiction and abuse of morphine back in the 1800s, could they? "I don't understand all this paperwork just to see if we're even capable of raising a child. And a home study! What purpose does that serve? Can't we just meet the damn social worker at a café? Why must they come here?"
"They have to make sure we're not living in some run-down little shack that's barely fit for people to live in," Lenore answered.
"Motivation for wanting to adopt? What a ridiculous question! Obviously we want a child!" Erik huffed.
"At least we don't have to worry about most of the financial page. We don't have a mortgage, or car payments, or car insurance," Lenore said optimistically.
"This whole thing is preposterous," Erik mumbled. "It'd be far easier to just steal a child."
"And it would be morally wrong to steal a child," Lenore reminded him.
"Perhaps we should look into having you inseminated at a clinic," Erik proposed.
"They'd still want all this information."
"Government certainly complicates things," Erik griped.
"Oh, stop complaining and just fill out the form," Lenore snapped, going back to the couch and opening her book once more.
"That social worker will be a pain," Erik said as he began to fill in the boxes with perfect script. "They'll want us to install lights down here. And they'll look down their noses at my abode, I just know it. Especially the torture chamber."
"Maybe we can pass it off as a play room," Lenore suggested, not even bothering to take her eyes off her book. "Just be polite to the social worker, alright?"
"What am I supposed to do? Give them tea? "Would you like sconces with that, Madam?" I highly doubt they'll approve us just because I offer tea and sconces," Erik muttered.
"You know, you're making this an extremely difficult process," Lenore remarked.
"It already is extremely difficult," Erik countered.
Half an hour later, he called Lenore over from her reading to look over the application before he sent it in.
"Erik, you filled it out in cursive," Lenore said.
"Yes. Cursive is used for formal paperwork," he replied dismissively.
"But look at the directions. It says to clearly print all information," Lenore informed him, pointing to a line in the instructions that he had skipped over.
"So I have to get another application and fill it out all over again?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Damn," Erik swore. "To hell with children." That said, he strode into his bedroom and sat down at the organ, intending to write a piece about the evils of adoption agencies.