Disclaimer: I don't own any of the POTO characters but Anna and Brooke did emerge from my brain.
Argentum Obsrurum: I love your name! It's very poetic. Christine-bashing…hmmm…let's just say that the girls are going to be very protective of their precious Phantom.
some random person: I'll take that as a compliment
Oh, yes…I'm a little new to all the FanFic lingo (figured out the phanphic stuff all right) but anywho could someone tell me what OOC means?
ERIK DISCOVERS ROCK 'N' ROLL
Erik decided to leave off haunting a little early today. Although he was certain that the ballet girls would be disappointed by the absence of spooky surprises he couldn't ignore that pull of curiosity. For two weeks now it irked him to no end that his house was in one piece, in perfect order each night he returned from his duties as the resident ghost. Those girls were not normal—they HAD to be up to something…he just knew it. Maybe if he slipped in unexpectedly….
He found Ayesha cowering in her bed. A ghastly noise came throbbing through the door to the sitting room. Cautiously, as though he were disarming a bomb, Erik peered into the room.
Anna was going to town on her air guitar, tossing her red hair to the beat of "Bohemian Rhapsody." Brooke banged on an imaginary drum set with a pair of new candles. The music was radiating from the strange white, glowing contraption sitting on the mahogany table. Both girls were singing at the top of their lungs and dancing like drunken gypsies. They had pinned their skirts up around their knees. They ran about barefoot, with their bustles bouncing to the music.
Their voices were truly wretched. Erik could hardly handle bad singing any better than a dog could handle a flute trilling on high C. He stomped out into the open, determined to silence the offenders but Anna held up one little palm to stop him dead in his tracks.
"Don't spoil it," she snapped. She closed her eyes as she and Brooke swayed to the final guitar riff. Erik waited until the strange racket faded away only to hear it replaced by the sound of a thundering organ. Brooke dashed to the laptop, taping the spacebar to stop the music. She discreetly quit the music program so Erik never saw the words "Phantom of the Opera" highlighted in purple.
"Anna! Brooke!" Erik growled.
"Yes?" they replied, gazing up at him with big, doey, innocent eyes.
"What…was that unholy racket?"
"It was music."
Erik's eyes blazed with indignation. "You dare to call that noxious screeching…MUSIC?" He spoke in a horrified whisper as though they had just committed the eighth deadly sin.
"That was Queen, dude!" Anna retorted. Somehow this information did nothing to smooth Erik's ruffled feathers.
"Just what exactly are you doing?" he demanded.
"We are saying farewell to Anna's laptop," Brooke said. She grabbed Erik's thin wrist and pulled him forward. "You see that little symbol?" She indicated the battery life in the top right hand corner.
"Yes."
"Very soon that little symbol will turn red, to signify its final breath, and then it will become totally empty…AND THE COMPUTER WILL DIE!"
There was a wild look of madness in the girls' eyes that worried him. He decided to humor them.
"But is this extravagant display necessary to send the com…computer to its grave? A nice requium instead…maybe?" he suggested tentatively.
"Not when we're gonna have to listen to Piangi and Carlotta squawk till someone drops dead!" Anna cried. She leapt to the table and restarted the program, though this time they were careful to avoid anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Erik sought refuge in his room with Ayesha, though he stood near the door, watching and listening like a nosy, disapproving neighbor. During the next hour he was introduced to bizarre variety of sounds: The Beatles, more Queen, an odd assortment of oldies, a few sweeping John Williams scores (Erik rather enjoyed "The Imperial March"), a little Danny Elfman, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," swing and jazz and celtic and on and on.
The girls put on a show that would have rivaled any opera production. They danced to "Piano Man," swayed hypnotically to the score from "Harry Potter," sang with all their hearts to "Summer Nights," did an amazing jig to "Lord of the Dance," whirled each other about to the swing tunes, and went to pieces over Puccini's "Nessun Dorma."
An hour later the final song faded to an end and the monitor blacked out.
"That's it," Anna said mournfully, slumping on to the sofa. Brooke shut the laptop like a captain shutting the eyes of his fallen soldiers, quietly humming taps under her breath. They were exhausted. Erik sauntered into the room.
"I liked that last song. What is it called?"
"'Music of the Night,'" Anna answered absentmindedly.
Brooke gasped, "You heard that?"
"Yes."
"And you liked it?" Anna stammered. She realized the mistake they had made, but as she ran over the song in her mind she remembered the words "Phantom" and "Christine" were never mentioned. They were in the clear.
"Yes, I liked it very much. It was very inspiring," he quipped cheerfully.
"I'll bet," Anna muttered sullenly. Brooke sniffled noisily.
"That's it…no more rock 'n' roll…just that horrid opera junk," she said, bitterly shaking a fist at the ceiling and the performers who stood more than five floors above them.
"I would like to point out that opera has far more musical merit than those heinous noises which you call…rock and roll," Erik said.
"Not when it's sung by a fat cow," Brooke snarled, flinging herself down beside her cousin.
"And a pompous pigeon," Anna added.
"You certainly have a valid point there."
The girls sat pouting for a while. Brooke's face suddenly lit up with a wondrous epiphany. Her green-eyed gaze zeroed in on her tall, black-clad prey.
"Erik," she purred slyly, moving to sidle up to the Phantom. "You could…"
"I will not."
Anna was on her feet and clinging to Erik's arm instantly. He swore they could read each other's minds at times.
"Oh, please, Erik! We know you can sing like an angel!"
"How could you possibly know?" he said. He shoved them away, glaring at their pale, pleading faces. He wouldn't sing for them. Yes, they were likable in a weird, annoying sort of way…and they had treated him with the more human curtesy than he had ever known but he only sang for one person now. For her alone…
He looked down at Anna and Brooke. They stood at an icy distance, not returning his gaze. His heart was besieged by a sudden tide of guilt…no matter he would not sing, but he could at least resurrect their own music. He moved to touch the silent, cool computer.
"What is the source of this machine's power?"
"Electricity." The girls became hopeful again. They remembered the unlimited wealth of Erik's knowledge and capabilities. "Erik, could you wire the computer to an electrical outlet?"
He gave a graceful shrug of his slender shoulders, "I could certainly try. The opera's management has installed some electrical wiring. I suppose that gas lamps will be obsolete someday."
"They will be," Brooke assured him as she handed him the computer's cord.
"Just don't destroy it," Anna warned.
It took all of Erik's self-control to keep himself from dismantling the computer to find out how it worked. The machine was utterly fascinating, even if it did commit the crime of producing awful music. But he mustn't betray Anna's trust. Apart from not wanting to upset her Erik had a sneaking suspicion that the girls would get their revenge in some frightful way that not even he could prevent.
A few nights later Erik asked the girls to his laboratory. He had managed it. There sat the computer glowing happily and fully charged. The cousins squealed with joy. Grabbing the laptop and the Phantom they raced to the sitting room where they spent the entire night teaching Erik to word process and forcing him to appreciate the finer points of rock 'n' roll.