Disclaimer: Well. Christmas might have come and past by the time you've read this. Or maybe it hasn't. Maybe I'll type it fast. Ah well. Merry X-mas if it hasn't!
If this is your second message about this chapter, you're not going crazy. I deleted the old one because of a very bad typo. Sorry!
Hey guys. I've got a bunch of plot bunnies that I want to try out. They're on the profile.
I have no snide remarks, but I do have a fun-fact!
If you've seen the movie Monster House (the pain…), you'll notice that children 1-3 fall into some…pit of toys. Yeah. Well, Chubby has a near heart-attack and water guns this little monkey toy.
Said monkey toy looks oddly similar to Erik's precious monkey clapper…thing.
Reviewer time.
Gerikslover: Updation! And yes, SNL. Can the code be broken?
Mrs. Gerard Butler: Yeah. It sucked. I was tempted to just put another Author's Note, but I figured I should knock off another quessie.
Luckii.Jinx: Yes. Very confusing. Like Prestige. Have fun stuffed in the cupboard/closet!
Angel of Music lover: Technically your stuck in a closet with them, but same thing. And thank you! Sorry about the name mix-up…homework. Sorry again.
Hmm. Feeding himself, seducing an under-aged girl, and tanning? Tsk, tsk, Erik, you sure seem busy!
Serey-Sass: Hmm. I knew I was a phangirl short. Tell Serey that I think both of you have problems, and need help. Fast. : D
FemmeLoki: It'll kill me inside, I'm sure.
PhantomoftheBasket: Ha. Grounded again. And THANKS FOR THE SHIRT. Geez. Yes everyone, blame Basket! She gave me the shirt! ;3
Lady Pendragon: SHE LIVES! LYKE, ONG! Ha. Haven't heard from you in a while. Thought you gave up on my funny.
Sha-ZAM!
LostBluePhantom: I have a large personal space bubble. And yay for iPods! I'm listening to mine now!
Happy belated Birthday!!
Supergirrl: Deal. But also tell her Small-and-Peppy wants it back after she's done. Try not to kill the nice reviewers.
Evanesce: It does sound like a very fun game. And what does you mean by "may you write?"
Moriko Csove Doyle: Ha. I know. It takes me a solid hour to get ready in the morning. And that is his name, but I'm absolutely awful with names, and I forgot how to spell it, so I eventually gave up and just called him Dargoa. Brakes might help.
AceGray: The stick of happiness! Bow down to it! And no, you're not a hypocrite unless you flame me for my quirky violence, or you don't allow me to make fun of you.
SpringDaze: Geez Dazey, it's like, ending in…a few chapters. We have this one, the next with no phangirls, the one for the special 200 reviewer, then the final chapter. So it's ending soon. Oh, and I like the story!
Lluna: I've been hugged! My personal space bubble! Ah:D Just kidding. I love House. I admit to wanting to take out his eyes and put them in a shrine.
I don't know if she's actually a porn star, but apparently Kloolky thinks so, and she's more POTO obsessed then me. I hope she isn't really. I liked her. Her singing was…prettiful.
MG OWNS!
Pawfoot: Straight jackets and Erik's shirt. They make this phic go 'round.
The Magic Pickle Fairy: I actually haven't read a lot of it. I did some…skimming. A lot of…skimming. Mostly to the interesting parts (Erik's death…). But I'll try.
No phangirls! They're all rotting away in the closet!
How does Erik know everything?
(And other hard-to-catch tidbits of questions)
0o0o0o0o0o0o
"Erik!!"
Well, that wasn't a happy voice. Then again, Madame Giry didn't really have a happy voice.
The soon-to-be victim, Erik, instantly sat up and pulled his mask back on, pushing the foil and the candles into his secret crevice.
"Uh, yes, Madame?"
She momentarily forgot what she was saying, noticing the foil and candles. "Where you just tanning by candlelight again?"
He 'thoughtlessly' (please not sarcasm) gripped his punjab. Mme. Giry remembered what she was going to say.
"Your rose just beeped." She shoved it into his face, and his features wrinkled up before he sneezed.
She stared at him.
"You're allergic to roses?"
"It's amazing all the things I do for my dear, dear Christine."
Meg, who was still on permanent Lair-Arrest, was going through all Erik's music, seeing if he ever wrote anything incredibly interesting for the ballet girls. She looked up.
"Why is there an antenna attached to the ribbon? That's a little pathetic, Monsieur."
Erik turned to glare at her. "Don't make me have to have you dance into the fire during Don Juan."
Meg went quiet, then went back to her searching. She began mumbling everything she found.
"Soprano, soprano, soprano, soprano."
"What were you saying, Woman-Who-Has-No-First-Name?"
The mumbling continued.
"Soprano, soprano, soprano, soprano."
Madame Giry absent-mindedly clicked her cane into the ground to the beat of her daughter's mumbling. "Your rose. It made a mechanic sound."
"…Is that all?"
"Soprano, soprano, soprano, soprano."
"'Is that all'?" Mme. Giry cried shrilly. "You have a bomb attached to a flower, and all you say is 'is that all'?"
Erik chuckled. "It isn't a bomb, Taller Giry. It's a-"
"Soprano, soprano, soprano, soprano."
Cut off, the man turned to stare at the blonde female still going through all his sheets. He waited a moment before continuing.
"..It's a-"
"Soprano, soprano, soprano, soprano."
Now very miffed, he took a deep breath through his nose before trying to continue again.
"It's-"
"Soprano, soprano, soprano, soprano."
Erik's face turned a very fun shade of red. He opened his mouth to speak, but, of course…
"Soprano, soprano, soprano, soprano."
He jumped up to punjab the annoying girl, but got smacked on the head with an ivory cane. That didn't stop him.
"Shut up or leave!"
Meg stopped, looking horribly offended. She got up and stalked over to a wall, which she pressed her palm against and said in an awful male-voice imitation, "Christine."
The wall instantly opened up, complete with the golden lights and hallelujah chorus. Sitting on a plush pillow were a pair of socks. She snatched them up and skipped to the lake.
Obviously the security technology sucked.
Erik seemed to be in a state of panic. "Th-the socks!"
She smiled evilly, posing to drop them into the dark waters.
Madame Giry just stared at her daughter. "Where did she learn about a secret compartment in your wall?"
"Well, it all started when a radioactive chipmunk ate her ballet slippers…"
Everyone stopped and looked around, trying to find the source of the deep, booming voice. Usually it was Erik. But this time it wasn't.
Meg snapped out of the trance first, and wiggled the socks. "Tell Mama what she wants to know, or these things are taking a little bath."
This is, of course, when the giant whirlpool kicked in.
Erik was turning white. He stuttered. "It-its uh, a-a," he paused to breathe. "It's a tracker camera."
Madame Giry gaped at him. "Tracker camera?"
"I-it, uh, allows me to know what's going on. Inside my Opera House."
"So these are everywhere?"
"Yes, they are. The infamous Phantom has hidden his trademark black-ribboned roses all over the old theatre."
"…Okay, seriously, where's that coming?" Meg asked, still holding Christine's socks over the giant whirlpool.
"I'm the narrator."
"Our narrator is a little 9-year-old girl," Madame Giry grumbled sourly.
"You locked her in a cupboard. I'm the replacement."
She brushed it off. She didn't actually care. "So he puts them all around?"
"Gosh, you're stupid. I already said that!"
"I was just making sure!"
"Riigghhttt."
Well, as Madame Giry continued to argue with a voice she couldn't against, Erik just stared at Meg.
"…I told her about the trackers, so can I have Chrissie's socks back? Please?"
"Oh course not!"
"…And why not?"
"I don't know!" Meg gave off the empty-headed I'm-a-blonde-ballet-brat-with-no-brains smile, continuing to wiggle the socks over the water. But then she accidentally dropped one.
"NOO!" Erik shrieked, giving no hesitation before he dove into the dark, forbidden water. There was a rough sucking before he was sucked into the lake.
The Whirlpool God subsided, content on what it was sacrificed.
Meg just stood there, frozen, still facing forward and holding a single sock, her mouth formed in a little 'o' of shock. Her eyes where much bigger. Like an 'O'.
Madame Giry took no noticing of her friend being fed to homicidal water. She was still arguing with the voice.
"Why don't you haunt someone as wrinkled and old as yourself?"
"You mean like yourself?"
"I was thinking someone like your Mother!"
The deep, booming voice gasped. "Don't bring my mother into this!"
Meg took this moment to slink off, wishing to escape when Mme. Giry finally realized her bestest best buddy being taken by H2O.
But for the next three hours, she would do nothing but argue. With the voice.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
A/N: Nooo phangirls! I did it! Ha. Review guys. Please?
Please? Eleven more reviews, then we hit 200!
Psssss. -pokes TheSecretAndStrangeAngel- I some property of this story is stolen from her parody the Accent. Tehe!