HELLO! I have now updated, so please, stop sharpening your virtual pitchforks, and put down your graphically-enhanced torches, for I am back, with CHAPTA FOUER! XD XD XD XD SCREWED UP SPELLING INTENDED! XD XD XD XD
Disclaiming Carlotta: *is talking on a cell-phone* REALLY? YOU'D-A REALLY TAKE ME! OKAY! *closes phone, and turns to me* YOU! I do notta have-a to worka for you anymore!
Me: Whattaya talkin' bout woman?
Disclaiming Carlotta: I have just been accepted to the Fancy-Pants School Of Opera And Other Artsy Stuffs.
Me: *trying to act surprised* Wow! An offer to an oddly-named school that sounds like it doesn't exist that comes to a cell-phone that I gave you. And the weirdest thing is, it was PERFECTLY timed, since I'm getting pretty sick of you anyway.
Disclaiming Carlotta: *snobbishly* Yes, that is what-a happens when you are the best singer in the world! Goodbye-a! *walks out snootishly*
Erique Claudin: *walks in with a cell-phone in hand* Is she gone?
Me: Yup. Thanks for helping me rid myself of one of the worst pests in the world: Carlotta.
Erique Claudin: Any time dear, any time.
Disclaimer: *runs in, literally jumping and screaming for joy.* OH BOY OH BOY! I AM THE ONLY PERSON WHO DISCLAIMS AROUND THIS JOINT! WE DON'T OWN PHANTOM OF THE OPERA! NOT A SINGLE VERSION OF IT! BOOYAH!
Le Parody de l'Opera: 2004 Edition. YES!
*Alright, we now return to exactly the point where we were so rudely interrupted...*
Erik: [Thinking to self:-CLIFHANGER! No, wait, that wasn't what I was going to say. I was going to say nothing could ruin the moment except for a pack of extraterrestrial flying rabid rabbits that drool ectoplasmic slime. I at least think that was what I was going to say, but for some reason, I feel like I've just been interrupted, then put on pause for a long period of time. Oh well, I guess life does that to you.]
*outside the dressing room.*
Raoul: *walks to the door and tries to open it. He fails.* Aw crap! *starts yanking on the door handle and banging on the door.* WHY CAN'T I OPEN THIS CRUDDY DOOR! *bangs head against door, then falls over. Thud. There, see, I made a sound effect. TAKE THAT HARVARD!*
*back inside the dressing room.*
Christine: *hears the thud, and looks around.* Did you hear something?
Erik:...No.*starts walking sequence.*
Christine: Oh. Alright. *singing.* Beneath the opera house, I know he's there-
Erik: *stops for a moment.* Uh, I don't think those are the right words, dear.
Christine: Oh. I knew that.
Erik: *resumes walking sequence.*
Christine: *singing.* Saaaaaay you'll share with me one looooove, one lifetime. Saaaaaay-
Erik: *stops again.* Wrong again.
Christine: *frustratedly.* I know this, don't tell me!
Erik: *resumes walking sequence.*
Christine: *singing.* Iiiiin the twilight, glow, I see her-
Erik: *stops for like, the 100th time. YAY! I'VE PROVEN MY LACK OF MATHEMATICAL KNOWLEDGE!.* No no no!
Christine: *glares at him.* Well, I guess somebody doesn't know how to respect a song that's been recorded by Elvis, Hank Williams, and Willie Nelson!
Erik:...Okay...well, why don't I help you. The song starts with, In sleep, he saaaang to meeeee. *begins walking sequence.*
Christine: Okay. *singing.* In sleep, he saaaaaang to meeeeeee. In dreams he caaaaaame. That voice which caaalls to meeee, and speaks my naaaaame. And do I dreeeaaam agaaaain, for now I fiiiiiiiiiind: The Phaaaaaaaaantom of the Opera is there: Inside my miiiiind.
Erik: *singing.* Sing once again with me, our strange duet *approaches a giraffe that has been spray-painted black. Oh, it also wears a pair of cool-dude sunshades.* My power over you, grows stronger ye-
Christine: OH MY 3RD-DEGREE BURNT BUTTER CHURNER FROM MOUNT OLYMPUS! WHAT IS THAT THING? *points to the giraffe.*
Giraffe: *just stands there, doing absolutely nothing. I don't even know if it's breathing! Who gives, it's not like this is gonna be performed or anything, right? Right? RIGHT?*
Erik: Uh, yeah, I lost the horse a few days ago after I was force-feeding it a potato, and like, the next day, I found this thing just standing there in my closet. So, I just decided to make it look even schweeter by painting it and giving it sunglasses.
Christine: What does schweeter mean?
Erik:...
*after a few moments of just standing there while background music just plays, Erik helps Christine onto the giraffe, and they commence their walking sequence once more.*
Phans who prefer the play rather than the movie (yes, I probably changed you name a bit. DON'T JUDGE ME! DX): Really? Really now? What's with this? A freaggin ride through the cellars? WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?
Phans who prefer the original book:...Ahem...
Phans who prefer the play:...Oh. We knew that.
*the duo continues to walk until they reach the lake with A GIANT YACTH IN THE MIDDLE...NOT! No, you would think Erik would have that, you know, since he gets a huge freaggin sum of money every month for doing absolutely nothing but terrorizing the simple-minded opera peoples. But, instead, there was a MOTOR BOAT in the middle of the lake.*
Christine: OOOH! LAKEY! *jumps into motor boat.*
Erik: *jumps in with and cranks the engine.*
Motor Boat: RUMM NIMIENIMEIENIMIENIMIE... *continues doing that.*
Lit Candles: *coming from the water.* YAY! IT'S FUN TO DEFY THE COMMON LAWS OF LOGIC AND SCIENCE! WHEEEE! WATCH US DO IT NOW, THEREFORE CREATING PARADOXES THAT WILL ONE DAY DESTROY THE EARTH! WHEEEEEEE!
Motor Boat: *getting close to the gate thingy.*
Erik: SING FOR MEH!
Christine: THE SUNN'LL COME OUT! TOMORROW! BET YOUR BOTTOM DOLLAR THAT TOMORROW, THERE'LL BE SUUUUUUUN!
Erik: *pinches the bridge of his nose.* Never mind.
Gate Thingy: *slowly goes up.* Lift. Lift. Lift. Lift. Lift. LIIIIFT...Lift.
Motor Boat: *reaches the shore, then stops.*
Christine: *watching with awe.*
Erik: *quickly jumps out of boat when it stops. He then attempts to throw off his awesome cape of pure phantomness...but it won't come off.*
Christine: * still watching with the same amount of awe*
Erik: *continues to struggle with cape.* Come on you stupid freaggin- *finally is able to throw cape off, and sends it flying.*
Cape: WHEEEEEE! I LAV BEING AIRBORNE! OH NOOOOO! *lands in a pile of lit candles.*
Candles: PWN 73H N008Y C4P3 (meaning, PAWN/OWN THE NOOBY CAPE, a phrase that, in this case, means DESTROY THE LOWLY CAPE!)
Erik: *stares in disbelief, then turns to Christine, regaining his suaveness.* I have brought you...to the seat of sweet music's throne. To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music...MUSIC! YOU HAVE COME HERE! FOR ONE PURPO-
Christine: *interrupting Erik.* Oh, hey, yeah, doesn't that mean you're NOT the Angel of Music?
Erik:...No...
Christine: Okay. I'll just continue to gaze at you in awe. *resumes gazing.*
Erik: Okay... YOU HAVE COME HERE! FOR ONE PURPO-
Christine: *interrupting again.* Hey, wait, are you sure you're the Angel of Music?
Erik:...Yes...
Christine: *starting to stare at him suspiciously.* You sure do look an awful lot like the Angel of Geography.
Erik:...Uh, what?
Christine: The Angel of Geography. You know, the angel that's dedicated to teaching geography! Just like the Angel of Literature, the Angel of Science, and the Angel of Quantum Mechainics.
Erik: Alright, so what's this "Angel of Geography" like?
Christine: Oh, he used to be so much fun...but uh, nowadays, he's sorta, uh, you know, *does the "koo koo" hand gesture*
Erik: Uh yeah.
Christine: *sighs.* And nowadays, the only thing he ever does is take out a map of ancient Greece, point to a specific place in the southern Peloponnesian Peninsula, and yell "THIS...IS...SPARTA!"
Erik:...O_O...
Christine: Yeah, but still, the other Angels are pretty cool! You should meet them. Anyway, back to what you were going to do.
Erik:...Let's just skip it.
Christine: *casually shrugs.* Okay.
Erik: *helps Christine out of the motor boat.*
Christine: *looks around.* Wow, nice place you got here.
Erik: Thanks, I try to keep it in good condition. In fact, I just cleared out my basement today.
Christine: You have a basement?
Erik: *becomes dazed and confused.* That's exactly the question I've been asking myself all day...O_e
Christine: *looks around, then sees Erik's trademark organ. Why does he get a trademark organ while I DON'T! IT AIN'T FAIR! IT! AIN'T! FAIR!* What's this?
Erik: *snaps out of his "trance"* That's my organ of a thousand awesomes.
Christine: Cool. *plays a key, which randomly makes confetti shoot out of one of the pipe-thingies.*
Erik: Uh, I think I have to call the organ repair man soon. But, anyway- *is cut off by Christine's excited squealing.*
Christine:OOOH! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU LIKED DOLLS! *points to Erik's doll set-erm, I mean model of the opera house.*
Erik: *one eye twitches.* Okay okay look, I know there are probably all kinds of rumors about me that float around this Godforsaken opera, but I do not, I repeat, NOT, I repeat again, NOT, I repeat once more, NOT play with dolls!
Christine: Um, okay?
Erik: Alright then. Let's continue...*leads her around his home again.*
Christine: Ooh...Ahhh...Oh...AAAAAH! Heheh.
Erik: *walking with her, looking back at her every now & then.*
*the two finally approach the room-place with the mannequin.*
Erik: *shows her the mannequin with the wedding dress.*
Christine:...Wow...wedding dress...white..
Erik: *lovingly.* Yes, my love, it is a sign that I only love you, and shall love you forever.
Christine: Pretty...me...doll...wow...I...don't...look...fat...in...that...dress...
Erik: *concerned.* Uh, are you okay there?
Christine: Though...Carlotta... totally...would...and...so...would...Meg...but...I...shouldn't...tell...her...anything...
getting...sleepy...stayed...up...past...bedtime...yawn. *slowly starts falling asleep, laying on the floor.*
Erik:...Okay then...*picks Christine up and brings her to the swan bed, and lays her down.*
Christine: *mumbles and turns a little, then is motionless.
Erik: [Thinking: FINALLY! I JUST KNOW NOTHING WILL INTERRUPT ME NOW!] Help me make, the music of the, Niii...*continues the note while walking backwards, but accidentally slips on a randomly and conveniently placed banana peel and falls down.* This isn't my day...
*Alright, uh, some time later, coz I can't tell. It seems like daytime, coz I think I saw daylight, but the scene after this sorta makes it seem like nightime, but I guess it really would be daytime, so let's just say that, okay. Anyway, Meg is at Christine's door.*
Meg: *tries to open door, but sees that it's locked.* Oh darn, I wish I had a key. Oh well, better make do with what I do have. *takes out a paper clip, unwinds it to where it's one long steel rod thingy, and messes with Christine's lock.*
Door: CLICK! I'M OPEN! YAY! LET'S HAVE A PARTY!
Meg: *opens door.*
Door: *knob/nose gets twisted.* OUCHIES! DON'T YOU KNOW THAT HURTS ME?
Meg: *walks inside the dark dressing room.* Christine? Christine, are you there? You're not going to be mad at me for sneaking into your room, are you? *closes door.* Christine? *sees rose that was randomly placed there and picks it up.* What's this doing here?
Rose: OH THE HORROR! OH THE MANDESS! OH THE RANDOMNESS! JUST DESTROY ME NOW! *randomly perishes, creating a burst of colored eggshells and dust mites.*
Meg:...Even I don't get that joke, and I doubt the author does too... *moves mirror out of the way and begins walking down the passage.*
Rats: *look up at Meg.* Sup m'lady?
Meg: OH MY GOD! IT'S A BLACK-PLAGUE SPREADER! I'M PROBABLY GOING TO BLOW MY COVER BY SCREAMING, BUT OH MY OPERA GHOST THAT MANY PEOPLE SAY IS MY FATHER EVEN THOUGH THAT WOULD BE ILLOGICAL IN THE PLAY BECAUSE PHANTOM OF MANHATTAN SAID I SAW HIM WHEN I WAS SIX AND ALREADY HERE AND MANHATTAN CAME BEFORE THE MOVIE AND LOVE NEVER DIES! BLACK-PLAGUE SPREADERS! *grabs a bottle of rat-repellent and sprays it at the rats.*
Rats: FLEE! *all run away.*
Madame Giry: *puts her hand on Meg's shoulder.*
Meg: *quickly and paranoidly turns around.* OHMYGOD PLAGUE SPREADER! *sprays Madame Giry without realizing it's Madame Giry.*
Madame Giry: *...is sprayed with rat-repellent.* ACK! MY EYES! MY EYES! THEY STING!
Meg: OH MAMA, I'M SO SORRY! *hugs Madame Giry.*
Madame Giry: *fearfully and in pain.* GET SOME WATER, NOW MEG! PLEASE, BEFORE I DECIDE TO END IT ALL!
Meg: *hurries to the lake, puts some water in her hands, and splashes it on Madame Giry's face.*
Madame Giry: AH! IT STILL STINGS! MORE MEG, MORE WATER, PLEASE!
Meg: *panicks, turns around, and is about to head for Christine's dressing room (to grab one of Christine's water bottles), but is blocked by Salieri.*
Salieri: *has a bucket of water for Madame Giry, and splashes it on her (Madame Giry's) head.*
Madame Giry: *relieved.* Ah...thank you...wait, weren't you supposed to have left the story/set?
Salieri:...Yes...but I didn't want to! I like it here better! Besides, I don't actually have to kill anyone here! I mean yes, Mozart is still my enemy, but here, I can just write as I please and once again become famous because he's already dead!
Meg: Then who killed him?
Salieri:...I haven't a clue. He is dead right?
Meg: Yes.
Salieri: Well then, I guess I'll never know... O_o
Madame Giry: Let's just go...
Salieri: WAIT! Don't let me forget my new friend! *runs out of lair-passage way to get his "new friend"*
*Scene changes. We are now in the ballet dorms. Joseph Buquet is attempting to scare the living crap out of the ballet girls.*
Joseph Buquet: *acting like Frankenstein...'s monster. Yeah, it ain't Frankenstein, it's his MONSTA!*
Ballet Girls: *scream in fear.*
Joseph Buquet: *acting like a mummy.*
Ballet Girls: *scream in fear.*
Joseph Buquet: *acting like a chicken.*
Ballet Girls: *scream in fear*
Joseph Buquet: *acting like a racecar.*
Ballet Girls: *scream in fear.*
Joseph Buquet: *acting like the Thinker statue.*
Ballet Girls: *scream in fear.*
*While Joseph Buquet does an impression of a boom-box (scaring the Ballet Girls), Madame Giry, Meg, and Salieri (who's holding Gustave/Charles/Bob Daae's portrait) enter the room.*
Madame Giry: *looks at Salieri skeptically* Why again, Antonio, did you take that *points to Gustave/Charles/Bob Daae* with you?
Salieri: *offended* He's my friend, and I think he'd appreciate it if you didn't call him "it"!
Madame Giry: *groans.*
Meg: *goes and sits down on her bed.*
Salieri: *sits down beside her.*
Joseph Buquet *FINALLY doing his impression of Erik.* Like yellow parchment, is his skin! A great black hole serves as the nose that, never grew-
Meg: *interrupting.* Hey, wait, aren't you referring to the original, Gaston Leroux creation, rather than the current Phantom?
Jospeh Buquet:...I'm not going to die anytime soon.
Madame Giry: *rolls her eyes.* Dude, just keep your hand at the level of your eyes.
*scene changes again, for like the 9001st time. IT'S OVER NINE THOUSAND! Anyway, Christine's still asleep in the swan bed.*
Christine: *mumbling in her sleep.* No...no mum, I don't want the fish-flavored teabags...Why are you a chicken-headed monster...Where are you going...No...NO *starts tossing and turning agitatedly...OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON'T KILL ME WITH DEER-RABIES! Oh, wait, that's a false statement *calms down.*...okay...Go away Raoul, you look like an even stupider and less hotter Lucius Malfoy...wait, he never was hot...Lucius that is...
Monkey Music Box: *starts playing.*
Christine: *grabs a randomly placed pillow and covers her head and ears.* No, give me five more minutes!
Monkey Music Box: *plays even louder.*
Christine: Ah, shaddap! *continues to cover her head and ears with pillow.*
Monkey Music Box: *stops playing for a sec, rubs cymbals together, then begins playing as loud as it can.*
Christine: *gets up irkedly (yes, Virginia, irkedly is a word. For explanation, see Meg Annoys Erik from my Random Phantom Phunnies.).* Grrr. *picks up music box and begins examining it for awhile, then puts it down irkedly.* You've got to be kidding me. Who invents an alarm clock without a snooze button? *groans, gets out of bed, and walks out of the bedroom-place.*
Erik: *is playing organ and writing music/opera. He's also wearing *
Christine: *rubs head.* Where the heck am I?
Erik: *turns and sees Christine, then turns back to organ and music.*
Christine: *looks around.* What is this place? What time is it? Who am I?
Erik: *mumbles something about Alzheimer's medicine.*
Christine: Oh wait, I remember! *eyes dilate, and she begins to run around the lair.* AAAAAH! MIST! MOTOR BOATS! CANDLES! LAKES! MEN WITH MASKS! ORGANS! DOLLS! CONFETTI! RAT POSION SPLASHED IN MADAME GIRY'S FACE! *stops running and thinks for a minute.* Oh, wait, I think that only happened in a dream. Where was I? Oh, right. *continues running and screaming.*
Erik: *grabs Christine's arm, concerned.* Are you alright, dear?
Christine: Yes. I just feel weird. *looks down and sees that stockings are missing.* Hey! WHERE ARE MY STOCKINGS?
Erik: Uh...I dunno...
Christine: Did you steal them? TELL ME NOW!
Erik:...No...
Christine:You better not have! They had 20 carrat gold, jewel-encrusted leg-braces, and equal strands of platinum, silver, gold, and bronze embroidered into them. AND THEY BELONGED TO MY GRANDMA!
Erik:...No...
Christine: *crosses arms.* Alright then.
Erik:...Anyway, why do you feel weird?
Christine: I dunno. I just do. IS THERE A PROBLEM WITH THAT MR. Mr...Uh, what's your name?
Erik:...Erik, though nobody calls me by that, so just call me by the annoyingly and unnecessarily longer name of "The Phantom of the Opera". Kapeesh?
Christine: Yeah. And what does Kapeesh mean?
Erik:...I seriously don't know...
Christine: Well, anyway, I better get going.
Erik: No! Don't Go!
Phans who prefer the play: *angrily.* YOU SAID THAT AT THE WRONG TIME, DOFUS!
Erik:...Sorry...
Christine: *puts hands on hips irkedly.* Why can't I go? I have rights! This is a free country!
Erik: Uh, I hate to break it to you, but this is France, not America. We're not free. And besides, women like you don't have rights yet...
Christine: *suddenly enraged.* OH NOW IT'S THE WHOLE "WOMEN DON'T HAVE RIGHTS BECAUSE THEY'RE CONSIDERED DUMBER, WEAKER, LESS ABLE, AND MORE USELESS THAN MEN" DEAL! THAT'S IT! *suddenly rips off Erik's mask. Upon seeing his face, Christine is no longer enraged, and lets out a little squeak/yelp/squeal/?*
Erik: *is suddenly enraged. He covers his face* WHY DO YOU HAVE TO GO PRYING OFF PEOPLE'S MASKS LIKE THAT? HUH? WHY IN THIS OLD-TIMEY YET COLORED DEPICTION OF PARIS, FRANCE WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING? NOW I'M NEVER LETTING YOU GO! NEVER! NEVER! NEVER! NEVER!
Christine: *is silently cowering in fear.*
Erik: *sighs, still covering face.* Yes, it's true, I have a horrible face and all that. It's oh so horrible. So horrible, in fact, that I've been tormented by circus freaks and people because of it. Oh. So. Horrible.
Phans who prefer the play: *sarcastically, putting hands on hips* Yes, it's so horrible, even though we don't see a swollen lip, or any facial disformity, peeking from your mask like we could with Micheal Crawford and others.
Christine: *slowly hands Erik his mask.*
Erik: *takes it, puts it on, looks at Christine, and speaks.* Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you.
*as the scene fades into a sheet of paper containing the script, Phans who prefer the play abruptly stop the fading process.*
Phans who prefer the play: *ranting.* We can't believe it! We just can't believe it! It's only been part of the first act, and they've already managed to screw up a bunch of the plot! Why didn't Erik sing that last part? Why didn't the ballet girl & Buquet scene occur AFTER the part where Christine wakes up? WHY DOESN'T GERARD BUTLER DO ANY JUSTICE TO MICHAEL CRAWFORD?
Random moviegoers: O_o...o_O
Phans who prefer the book: *to Phans who prefer the play.* Hey, at least you now know how we felt when the ALW play came out.
Phans who prefer the play: *turn to Phans who prefer the book.* Why we oughta...
*Phans who prefer the play and Phans who prefer the book get into an argument that soon turns into a watergun fight.*
Random moviegoers:...O_O
*the scene finally fades as the different Phan groups fight.*
Me: Alright! Yet another chapter complete! This phiction might actually be finished! IT MIGHT JUST BE MY FIRST MULTI-CHAPTER PHIC AND FIC TO BE COMPLETED! XD
Erique Claudin: Well, good luck with that, dear. *pats me on back.*
Me: *smiles at him.* And the next parody I do (if I do one again.) might be one of the 1943 POTO.
Erique Claudin: O_O You mean MY MOVIE?
Me: Aw, cheer up! I won't make you look that stupid.
Erique Claudin: *sarcastically.* Gee, thanks.
Me: I'll make Raoul and second-Raoul look even stupider!
Erique:...And that idiot who stole my concerto?
Me: He'll probably be the stupidest one in the phic. That is, if I end up writing it...
Disclaimer: *happily reading the reviews.* OOOOH! PEOPLES HAVE REVIEWED! XD
Me: *reads the reviews that reference the finding of the lost 1916 POTO* Aheheheh, yeah, we did end up finding the reel, even though we received no flames. Sadly, though, the reel actually turned out to be a phail. A MAJOR phail. *puts the reel in.*
After a black and white 3, 2, 1 circle the screen, a scene opens. A man with long hair and a thin mustache (Raoul) is dressed in a fairy-princess costume. He is presumably singing some kind of song.
Raoul: [title card.] LALALALALALALA! I'M SO FREAGGIN AWESOME! LALALALALA! PEOPLE CAN'T STAND I! LALALALALALA! I'M SO FREAGGIN COOL! LALALALAALALALA! ….IT'S A CRIME! YA! I LAV HANNAH MONTANA !
*Film reel cuts off.*
Me: So, yes, though this movie is very, very phail, at least it proves that TIME TRAVEL EXISTS!
So, without further ado, BEETS (Be ecstatic; evaluate this story). GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD-erm, I mean FAIR READERS!