Disclaimer: Don't own POTO yadda yadda…

A/N: So. I hope you all saw the Oscars. Not that it was a particularly wonderful year…but ERIK WAS THERE! I went berserk to say the least when the Phantom appeared out of the dark to escort Beyonce down the stairs. (Why did she sing like every song? Don't get me wrong I think she sang "Learn to Be Lonely" beautifully but really people… Josh Groban can hold his own). Anywho.

(hugs to all) (blushes) You guys make me soooo happy! I love all of the ideas and I will probably be using most of them (giving credit where credit is due of course). But yes…on to the phic!

PHANTOM PHAMILY

"Erik, will you ask the Bag for more toilet paper," Anna called out.

Erik didn't look up from Don Juan Triumphant. "The Bag doesn't listen to me. I asked it for arsenic once and it said buzz off."

"What was the arsenic for?" Brooke asked as she uncovered a mutilated newspaper photograph of Raoul de Changy.

"Nothing…Just a little…experiment."

"Right."

All at once Erik stood up and came striding into the sitting room where the girls sat scribbling away at some original fiction.

"I feel famished," he stated as though remarking on the weather.

"You haven't eaten for three days."

"Well…this whole business with Christine has me rather upset, you know." The girls saw his eyes dart anxiously toward the door to the Louis-Phillipe room. He had taken to wearing the mask around the house once more. Even then Christine avoided the poor Phantom like the plague. The girls called her nasty names under their breath and wrote random threat notes in their notebooks.

Anna watched Erik like a cat watching a mouse as he began to inch his way to the door. He stood beside it for a moment then cautiously leaned his ear against it. He fought the urge to run in and beg for the singer's forgiveness. The girls had already threatened to strap him down and force him to listen to the best of the Hansen Brothers if he ever did that again. Sighing heavily (he sighed so beautifully) he came to read over Brooke's shoulder.

"Why doesn't she come out? Maybe I should take her some dinner."

"Sure, why not," mumbled the brunette. Erik looked at Anna expectantly.

"I'll ask the Bag for some pizza," Anna grumbled, she stomped into Erik's room and he followed.

"I don't think she'll like pizza," he said softly.

"All righty then…Bag, we'd like to place an order for one large pizza with everything on it and one complete Thanksgiving dinner."

There you go.

"Thanks."

Anna and Brooke watched in painful silence as Erik tentatively opened the door to Christine's room, while balancing the impressive holiday feast with one hand.

"Some dinner, my dear?" he asked quietly.

"GO AWAY!" came the answering shriek. Erik bolted from the room as the bowl of stuffing sailed over his head, hitting the opposite wall.

"That little minx!" Brooke snarled. "That's the best part of the whole dinner!"

Ayesha set to work cleaning it up. Erik's beautiful, haunting blue eyes (authoress faints momentarily) glistened with threatening tears. The girls guided him over to the mahogany table where a hot pizza and ice-cold sodas waited for them. Erik only sat mindlessly picking the mushrooms off his pizza and passing them to the girls.

"Erik, dear, do want our olives?" Anna asked tenderly. He shook his head. That was a bad sign. Erik loved olives. Suddenly Christine threw open her bedroom door. Erik shot out of his chair.

"Is your dinner satisfactory, my dear," he asked, noble head bowed down. The girls hated to see him like that.

"Don't call me 'dear.' And the dinner is fair. The turkey was a bit dry. But, Erik, no one has come in to clean my room for the pass three days. The bathroom needs to be scrubbed down and the furniture needs dusting," she snapped.

"Anna? Brooke? If you would see to Mademoiselle Daaé's rooms, please," he whispered. He'd do anything for Christine and the girls would do anything for him (like any self-respecting PhanGirls). As they flew into the room Christine smirked and said, "Thank you."

Anna was scrubbing the gaudy Turkish bathtub with vicious force when Brooke stomped in, feather duster in one hand, a stack of papers in the other.

"Check this out." She shoved the papers into Anna's soapy hands.

"'I love Raoul. I love Raoul. I love Raoul.' Twenty whole pages. Perfect way to spend three days," Anna said dryly, handing them back to the fuming Brooke.

Anna continued, "Always thought she had bad taste in men."

"No! They have bad taste in women!" Brooke snarled and stormed out to resume her dusting.

"Erik," Christine's angelic voice disturbed a tense game of UNO. The Phantom was on his feet instantly, cards flying everywhere.

"Hmm, only one wild card," Brooke commented lazily.

"What is it, my…uh, Mademoiselle Daaé?"

"They forgot to empty the chamber pot."

Erik was completely torn. He would do anything to make Christine happy but if he turned around to look pleadingly at Anna and Brooke now…he simply stood frozen. All the females present knew what battle was being played out. Christine's bug-eyed face contorted with a horribly knowing grin. She timidly approached the trembling Phantom.

"Erik, please," she begged like an adorable child. She almost touched his sleeve. Erik thought he might faint. Breathing raggedly, he turned to the cousins. They stood tall and stiff, their hair and eyes blazed in the lamp light. They looked positively magnificent and terrible all at once. As Erik opened his mouth he knew there was going to be hell to pay for this…but he couldn't help it. If looks could kill, Christine Daaé's body would have combusted on the spot.

Anna and Brooke grasped the chamber pot brim with the very tips of their fingers, moving cautiously to the outer door.

"ERIK! Come open this door!"

The Phantom came at once, fumbling for a moment at the complicated counterweights under their wounded gazes.

"This is so unsanitary, I think I'll puke right here," Brooke said.

"Come now, it isn't that horrid," he said calmly as he trailed them to the edge of the lake.

"You don't have a nose!" Anna snapped as she whipped her head to the side and gasped for fresh, untainted air.

"Anna, don't move like that!" But it was too late. Brooke staggered on the slimy rocks and lost her hold on the despised article. The girls sprang back as the pot tumbled to the ground, splattering its revolting contents all over the bank. They came totally unhinged shrieking hysterically and wringing their hands frantically.

"EWW! EWW!"

"Calm down!" Erik thundered. Then the pot slipped and rolled to their feet.

"IT'S ALIVE!" Brooke bolted up the bank and even Erik jumped back, catching Anna as she leapt into his arms, clutching the train of her dress. Erik knew it would be cruel to make the poor girls clean it up. To be totally honest he didn't think he'd ever look at Christine again without remembering that spectacular splatter. He took them back to the room they now shared before attending to the gruesome matter himself.

As soon as the door closed on Erik's back, Brooke grabbed the Bag.

"Toilet paper!" she demanded fiercely.

But I gave you some earlier.

"NOW DAMN IT!"

Christine returned to her dressing room two weeks later. What a relief it would be to seem her old things about her. She locked the door against any intruders and turning around received a disturbing shock.

The entire room was curtained with unending reams of thin, cloth-like paper. She fought her way through the jungle of white streamers to the inner room where she found her beautiful opera gowns splashed with bleach, grape juice, black ink, and otherwise destroyed beyond recognition.

Wading back to her dressing table she discovered her personal articles covered in a goopy mass of sticky, sponge-like string. Swearing loudly the little soprano whirled around and that's when she saw it, written in sparkly pink lipstick on the Angel of Music's mirror:

THIS IS WAR!

A/N: BTW, is it just me or is Gerard Butler's voice incredibly sexy?