Disclaimer: I don't own POTO….Anywho.
Yeah! You guys are all soooo awesome!
Lady Brandybuck of the Shire: (winks) I love you too.
x g r e e n e y e s x: I shall definitely be on the look out for your phic.
Christy Day: Um, age levels….A, B & C (cute, huh?) are all twenty I figure. Erik on the other hand…according to Kay he dies at the age of fifty. The movie seems to place him at thirty-five (around Gerry's age), but I see him as ageless, like Santa Claus (snigger…there's a great comparison). I have no idea how long this is gonna continue but I figure Anna and Brooke are stuck with Erik in his time period. I like letting the episodes flow somewhat logically but at the same time I want to preserve some sense of randomness.
Sarita: Christine-bashing is part of the coming attractions for sure.
Aurora: Welcome to the Phamily. (Brooke offers an official pin shaped like the Poppins Bag) Thank you…I don't think I've ever been so flattered (shuffles feet) Oh, please email me your picture I'd love to see it! Thank you!
Random-Battlecry: (gasp) It's you! My hero! (falls at feet) Thanks for the info. And please please please come back and review.
Solecito: (sighs) If only daily updates were possible. But you know life—the greatest of adventures—beckons thus, daily updates are not always possible, but I shall try to keep this up for a while.
Jillybean: yeah, Brown-Paper Bag is my assessment of Patrick Wilson as Raoul. No expression until Phantom has him gagged and then he's a pathetic snot mess. Ew. Generally, speaking I actually like the character…poor kid, especially when Erik calls him Christine's "little fellow." I think Erik and Raoul should be drinking buddies and sing Hey ho to the bottle I go!
Three cheers for the Don Juan pants. It's a credit to Gerard Butler that he can wear those and look not just good but incredibly sexy. Not everyone can do that.
Anywho. This is gonna be a short update, but as it's title states, it is a prelude, to bigger and crazier things. However, there's a catch: I require ten creative answers to the question posed at the end of this chapter before I update again. Oh, yes, and to Erik for President here's an X-Men tribute but honestly, all I know about X-Men is that Hugh Jackman is really hot as Wolverine. But on with the show!
PRELUDE TO MADNESS
Anna and Brooke crept about the darkened halls of the empty opera house like hungry wildcats. In fact they were currently dressed in spectacular Cats costumes. Erik had long since stopped questioning their fetish for outlandish costumes. They were strange…but 'he was one to talk,' as Brooke put it. That was the end of that.
Anna gave her huge Rum Tum Tugger mane a gleeful thump as she stole across the vacant foyer. Brooke came skipping behind her, dressed as Rumpleteazer. Needless to say if Erik himself didn't scare some courageous opera employee, the girls definitely got the job done.
"Brooke, check this out!" Anna hissed excitedly. The kitty clad cousins peered up at a beautifully painted advertisement for the Opera Populaire's annual masquerade ball. They squealed with excitement. Elsewhere an overly inquisitive ballet rat fainted from sheer terror of rousing the wrath of the Phantomesses.
Back in the foyer, Brooke and Anna spun each other in circles, singing:
Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade…
"But we don't know how to ballroom dance," Anna cried, suddenly halting, fluffy mane thumping against her skull.
"No problem. We'll ask the Phantom to teach us." They were always careful to say 'the Phantom' when they were "in public", lest anyone should uncover Erik's identity.
"Does he know how to dance?"
"He knows everything. The real question is what shall we wear?" The girls paced the marble floor, brows furrowed, tails swishing.
"Well, it's gotta be better than the black domino Christine will be wearing," Anna mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.
"What is a black domino?"
"I have no idea."
"Sounds boring. Hey, how about the X-Men?" Brooke said brightly. Anyone could have sworn that her false cat ears pricked up.
Anna glared at her, "You really want to show up in black spandex?"
Brooke shrugged, "It was a thought. When is the ball?"
"Not for another month according to the poster. We have time. Let's go bug the Phantom for those dance lessons." With that the two cats slinked into the shadows.
A/N: Well, phans? What shall they wear? (I do have ideas, but let's hear yours)