Since the number of badfics in this genre has skyrocketed since the 2004 movie, I feel compelled to write a parody to show all these Sue authors just how ridiculous their writing is. This story is dedicated to all my fellow wankers and is in loving memory of our dear friends Grammar, Spelling and Canon Leroux. All of whom have been slaughtered in this horrible Mary Sue stories. Feel free to review or flame. I really don't care.
The French Country Side-18something. (Badfic writers are way to lazy to figure out dates)
It was a beautiful day in the French countryside. The sky was cayenne, blue, indigo, periwinkle and was being kissed by orange by the sun's last rays. In a random clearing in the random woods of the French countryside, was a small house. Everything about this house was perfect.
Inside, one of the most beautiful women ever to grace this planet was giving birth to what would be the most talented and beautiful baby girl. Because the mother was so perfect, she did not undergo labor pains and the wee baby girl just popped out of the womb. Even though she was covered with blood and placenta, the mother squealed at the sight of her perfect child.
All of a sudden, a bright light filled the house and a fairy appeared dressed in all pink. She held a wand over the baby's head and began to speak. "Oh perfect little child. You have a duty to fill from beyond. Your mother is going to die and so is your father. You will then be completely destitute. So you will go to Paris, one of the most expensive cities in all of Europe. You will meet a Madame Giry and she will house you in one of the non-existent dormitories in the Paris Opera House. There, you will fall in love with a deranged, obsessive walking corpse with no nose who stinks of death. You will make him fall in love with you and forget all about his true love the beautiful yet expressionless Christine Daae without the accent over the e. You will know it is him because Christine will call him her Angel of Music. You will have hot passionate sex together and make the most beautiful babies ever.
'But in order to show him you are a kindred spirit, I must give you a deformity." With a wave of her wand, the little baby's hands began to shake. Suddenly, rather large scars covered them. "Your name, fair one is Desmonda Olga Mitilda Cheryl Gretchen the Third. But they will all call you D for short."
The fairy left and years passed. Her prophecy came true.
Paris-1880 something
D entered the opulent opera house and was immediately smitten by the opulence of everything. It was perfect just like she would be if she didn't have the horrible scars on her hands. She was dressed in all rags. She entered the grand foyer and then walked into the auditorium. Once again the beauty of it all smote her.
"You there. What do you want?"
D looked up to see a lady clad all in black holding a very large stick. "Me?"
"Yes you."
"I—I was told to come here. This is where all destitute women come."
"Ah. I see. My name is Madame Giry. Welcome. I will put you into the fake dormitories after rehearsal. You look like a dancer even though you've probably never had a lesson in your life. Come. Dance."
D nervously walked to the dance floor and immediately picked up the steps. She was going to the be new prima ballerina. As she danced, she noticed a dark figure in the corner. When Madame Giry gave them a five-minute break, D cautiously approached the figure.
The figure seated in the corner was young Meg Giry. She was dressed all in black, with thick black eyeliner and black lipstick. Even though they weren't invented yet, she was wearing headphones and blasting Evanescence. She was studying her left wrist intently and holding a thumbtack to the vein.
"Hello!" D said cheerily. "I'm D. Who are you?"
"Fuck you."
"What?"
"I said fuck you. I'm busy hating my life right now okay? I have a loving mother who just wants what's best for me, but she's always doting on Christine not me. Christine gets everything. Including the deformed, walking corpse who stinks of death who stalks her and murders people for her. Me? What do I get? Nothing. I'm just Meg. Little Meg who, although loved by her mother and is a great dancer, has the worst life in the world. So be gone you and let me get back to my wangsting."
D was struck silent and watched as the thumbtack lightly caressed Meg's white wrist.
"Don't pay her any mind," said a voice.
D looked up and saw a girl who wore the same facial expression every second. "Hello."
"I'm Christine Daae (with no accent). That's Meg my best friend."
"Fuckin' whore," Meg said still caressing her wrist with the thumbtack.
"Wait you're the Christine Daae? Do you have an angel of music?"
"Yes I do," Christine replied. "How do you know that?"
"You see, there is this prophecy I must fulfill just because. And it involves you. What is this Angel's name?"
Christine shrugged. "I don't know. He just told me to call him Masterful Virgin and that he'd make my sleeping buds burst into bloom."
"Whore," said Meg.
"Masterful Virgin?" D asked.
Christine nodded. "Yes that's what I call him. My Masterful Virgin."
