Disclaimer: I don't own POTO.
A/N: Okay, this is a totally random phamily moment. It has no connection to the now existent plot. It's a non sequitur, if you please. (Thank you, Naomi). I just had to get it out…besides, it buys time while I fight writer's block on the shopping chapter.
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TOTALLY RANDOM
A Blipic
Christine had finally returned to the house by the lake. It was her first visit since her promotion to Prima Donna. Erik was rather surprised when he discovered that he wasn't ecstatic about it. Dealing with Christine's babyishness was getting tiresome. Needless to say, Anna and Brooke had very…hostile feelings about Christine's return.
The moment came. Erik poled the gondola across Lake Averne (whatever it's called) and fetched his Angel…and her luggage…and her poodle.
"Oh. My. Freakin'. A. What is…that?" Brooke said, jabbing a broomstick at the little ball of fluff resting in Christine's arms. The fluff ball snarled and snapped at the broomstick.
Christine jerked away, defensively cuddling the rabid fur ball. "Don't hurt Erikins!" she squealed. She babbled "ookie-pookie" nonsense to the poodle in a sugary baby-talk voice until it ceased snarling.
Anna stared at in her in shock. "Erikins?"
"Yes! I named him after my teacher," Christine said, sending Erik a sweet, angelic smile as he hauled her last trunk into the house.
"Christine, how long do you plan on staying?" Erik asked, eyeing the mass of luggage at his feet, contemplating whether or not to simply tossed it all into the lake and be done with it.
"Only for the weekend, my poor unhappy Erik," she chirped.
"Then why all of this?" He gestured to the trunks and hatboxes.
"I only packed what I couldn't do without."
"But I've already provided you with a wardrobe and toiletries."
"I know, but I just had to have these things to make me feel completely at home," Christine pouted. "Just put them in my room, please. Brooke, will you fetch something for Erikins and I to eat?"
Brooke stiffened. "Do you want to lick the same plate?"
"No, silly. Something for Erikins, preferably low fat. And a little something for me," Christine explained.
"You're stupid!" Brooke growled before stomping back into the kitchen. Christine happily ensconced herself in the armchair nearest the sitting room hearth and cuddled her white miniature poodle. Meanwhile, Anna helped Erik drag Christine's luggage into the Louis-Phillipe room.
"So…" The redhead's eyes danced with mischief. "How's it feel to be the proud namesake of a live cotton ball?"
"Don't! Ever talk to me about that…EVER!" Erik snapped. His dignity was thoroughly insulted, to say the least. He was the Phantom of the Opera! The Angel of Music! He was ERIK THE ALMIGHTY! How dare she debase him by naming that nasty work of fluff after him? It didn't help that Anna was laughing mercilessly at him.
The Phantom and his giggling companion returned to the sitting room where Brooke was serving up crackers and cheese to Christine and Erikins. The human Erik motioned for the cousins to leave him alone with Christine so they retreated to the kitchen.
"Anna, I've come to a decision about this whole Christine business," Brooke said solemnly, her pretty, round face as melancholy as a basset hound's.
"And what is that?" Anna asked, snapping a bite out of a shiny apple.
"We can't let her get to us. It's obvious that our men are becoming disillusioned with her," Brooke said.
Anna anxiously peered into the sitting room. "You really think so?"
"Albeit, your man is a littler slower on the uptake."
Anna sighed and plopped down on stack of empty bushels. "I know. I think he has an angst-complex. He has this need to complicate things for himself by angsting and being stubborn. But do you really think Raoul has lost interest in Christine?"
"He hasn't come to see her or sent her any notes or anything. So…yeah, I'd say he's lost interest."
"He seemed to really like you in Perros."
Brooke smiled wistfully, "Yesh…I noted that. It's a good thing, too, because I was ready to ruin your chances with Erik in order to make sure Christine didn't totally zero in on Raoul."
"What!" Anna leapt to her feet, staring at her cousin, mouth agape.
"I know. It's terrible, but I love Raoul so much…I couldn't help contemplating it. Are you gonna hate me now?" Brooke hung her head and ventured a fleeting glance at her best friend, awaiting her verdict.
"No, I don't hate you. I-I was actually thinking the same thing myself. You know, ruin you and Raoul so Christine wouldn't dive for Erik," Anna confessed, looking as shame-faced as a child who had found the cookie jar.
Brooke blinked incredulously. "Wow…we are so much alike it's scary."
"Twisted minds think alike."
"Indeed!"
"So…how do we make like Christine doesn't get on our nerves?" Anna asked.
"Be as obnoxious as possible."
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Erik had finally finished running Christine through her warm up vocal exercises. Devilish hard to do when she's distracted with tending to her irritable dog—if you could condescend to call it a dog. Having Ayesha in the room didn't help. The cat was positively furious that anything so revolting had entered her airspace. Erikins was apparently enough of a dog to know that he was supposed to chase cats.
On the verge of having a mental breakdown, Erik nearly screamed from frustration and wondered how the chaos could increase. And that's when the premonition hit him. Somehow, in his gut instinct, he knew the cousins were up to some thing. Sure enough, two seconds later a blast of twenty-first century music interrupted the tumult of the singing lesson.
The clamorous racket scared the crap out of little Erikins…literally.
Human Erik lost it.
"Get that animal the HELL out of here!" he roared. Erikins yelped and sought refuge in the arms of his indignant mistress.
Christine glared daggers at her teacher. "Don't yell at Erikins! It isn't his fault. They're the ones who scared him with that awful music." With that, the soprano marched out of the master bedroom and into the kitchen. Erik followed.
They found Anna sitting in the center of the huge oak table, cross-legged and picking an imaginary banjo. The computer, which sat in a dry, safe corner, was emitting the sounds of Five Iron Frenzy's "The Pants Song", a medley of spoofs on various music genres all dealing with…pants. Anna was currently drawling to the country spoof, hence the air banjo.
Oh, these are not my pants,
I don't know whose they are.
They smell a lot like Bobby's
Cuz he likes to fart.
These are not my pants.
How did they get in here?
Well, I'm filling up with fear,
Cuz these are not my pants.
Anna bowed to her audience, singing, Thank you, I'll be at the Gran' Ol' Opry tonight.
Christine blinked in shock. Erik wasn't shocked…he was beyond being shocked when it came to these two.
Christine demanded, "What are—"
She was cut off by a change in the music, from country to heavy metal. Brooke came flying out of nowhere, usurping the oak table in a single bound, her brown hair in wild disarray as she air guitared on her broom, head banged, and screamed.
These are not my pants!
Whose pants are these anyway?
These are not my pants!
Whose pants are these anyway?
Are they Bobby's or Timmy's or Billy's pants?
No! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!
These are not my pants.
Brooke howled in a guttural shriek:
BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Are you listening to what I say?
She ended with a violent smashing of the broom and several plates that happened to be in the way. The next song died when Erik taped the space bar on the computer.
"Hey! We're singing here!" cried the dynamic duo.
Erik stood with his hands clasped behind his back and calmly explained, "I can see that. However, if you continue with this shocking display little Erikins"—human Erik ground his teeth—"is bound to soil himself…again."
Anna gasped, "Again?"
"Yes, he already left a peace-offering on our bedroom carpet."
The girls blanched, knowing they would be the ones to clean it up. "Maybe he'll eat it, too," Brooke muttered.
Christine, tired of being left out of the conversation, hollered at the girls, "What on earth were you doing?"
"Singing."
"That wasn't singing! That was caterwauling!"
Anna arched a critical eyebrow, "I didn't know you knew such big words, much less the proper meaning."
Christine huffed and puffed like a bloated goat. "Well, I didn't know you thought you could sing."
"I don't think, I know," Anna argued pointedly, silently reminding Christine of the night in Perros when she and Brooke had won the approval of their fellow vacationers with their singing.
Erik watched the two of them banter back and forth, shrewdly observing the painful difference in intelligence levels. Brooke looked smugly proud of her cousin. At last Erik decided to aggravate the situation. He was bored…what could he do?
"Why don't you sing something…sweet for us, Anna?" he purred. All three women stared at him in absolute shock. Christine's bug-eyed face contorted in horror at Erik's bestowing such an honor on her rival. Anna was dumbfounded. Erik never asked her to sing anything. Brooke, though surprised, was gleefully watching the reactions of the other females.
After a few seconds' tense silence Anna nodded and numbly floated into the sitting room, where she settled herself at the piano. The others followed. Christine set Erikins on the floor and stood near the piano, determined to make Anna as nervous as possible by hovering. It was laughable really, but at least she tried. Erik took up position on the other side of the instrument as Anna warmed up her fingers with a few scales. Her skills as a pianist had definitely improved under his tutelage, however, the Phantom laid aside all criticisms, content to simply torment Christine by favoring Anna. It wasn't often that Erik had the chance to "play the field" and he was enjoying the opportunity.
Anna struck the first chords of her chosen song. To Erik's surprise he had never heard the piece before. The song took on the tinkling charm of a music box. Anna sang, cheerfully and boldly:
What do you see?
You people gazing at me?
You see a doll on a music box
That's wound by a key.
How can you tell I'm
Under a spell. I'm
Waiting for love's first kiss.
Anna stole a shy glance at Erik.
You cannot see,
How much I long to be free,
Turning around on this music box
That's wound by key.
Yearning! Yearning!
While
I'm
Turning around and around.
Anna ended the song with a flourish and gazed up at her audience with an impish grin.
Meanwhile, Brooke had been distracted with watching Erikins noisily clean himself. Her nose twitched in disgust and she fought the urge to drop kick him across the chamber. Suddenly, Christine turned away from the piano, frustrated and annoyed, and swept the little dog into her arms, seeking solace in the animal's affectionate kisses.
Brooke nearly died laughing.
"What's so funny?" Anna asked.
After gasping for air, Brooke replied in English so that Christine wouldn't understand, "That dog was just giving his butt a good bath!"
Anna squealed happily and broke down in a massive giggle fit. Soon both cousins were rolling on the floor. Erik, who understood English, stared at Christine with fascinated horror as Erikins continued to lick her face. And he thought it would be heaven to kiss her?
Brooke and Anna struggled to their feet, clutching their aching sides, staggered into the master bedroom and into the Lothlorien tent. There they changed into their PJ's and robes and sat down to watch (and make fun of) Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, equipped with ginger ale and Oreo cookies.
Erik stood a moment longer in Christine's company, torn between remaining with the woman he so desperately loved (right?) or spending the rest of the evening amused by antics of his hopelessly silly companions. The second Christine started in with the baby-talk, Erik made his decision and marched into the bedroom to join the slumber party. After he changed into his own robe, of course.
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YAY! Review replies are back…some one said they're banned? (shrugs…whatev.)
The Gerry: "Actually, my review replies are back seeing as poor Misty just got some cavity fillings done and the anesthesia hasn't worn off yet." (Pats a grumpy Misty on her head.)
Pleading Eyes: It was interesting, right after Misty typed out her technological frustrations the computer became compliant again.
Tian Sirki: It was for a six-hour car drive that commenced with an hour-long trek through windy mountain roads.
Captain Marianne Brandon: All the fun is I do believe the nude fop is indeed the Patrick version. I am personally offering him to you for your own amusement, use, what-have-you…after we catch him and clothe him, that is. Of course, if this offer doesn't appeal to you, I'm sure Misty will devise an alternative fate for Paddy.
Opaliana: Respect and awe taken. And I shall set the toe socks to work immediately (glares at den doorway). The cousins both have waist-length hair at this point…been some time between trips to the salon. Oh, and Misty would greatly appreciate it if you could either email the picture to her or point her in the direction of its location once it is completed. She's very flattered that you would undertake such a task.
Charlamange & MouetteHeartsErik: Your concerns for Misty's are greatly appreciated.
Sol: Note of nickname taken. The Fop Off is a good idea. Have you any extra bottles?
Ms. Cellaneous: (snatches up HQ Marauder's Map and bestows another kiss upon reviewer). Thank you my dear, you are invaluable.
Lady Willow Rose: I believe there are several minions interested in the position of bodyguard to myself, but Kat has a lot going for her—her reputation, namely. It should be…interesting.
Shinimegami14: Quite the imagination, haven't you? I'm sure Misty and the Captain will find good uses for your talents.
Silvermasque: (quirks eyebrow) Don't go giving Misty any ideas.
RocketQueen101: Misty was all giggles and delight over your very flattering review. I believe she particularly enjoyed the phrase "phreaking phantabulous."
naomipoe: You called it.
Melissa Aminta: The mercenary cookie crisps are dearly welcomed.
mrs. malfoy: We went to a lake in the mountains. Misty hadn't there in years…poor thing was nearly beside herself when she saw the ducks.
xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx: Heaven protect us against reproducing bags.
TheGreatSporkWielder: Behold the power of the Wal-Mart truck.
Masque of Chaos: (stares at the teleport mirrors in wonder) If I could, I would make Erik Leroux spontaneously glomp you. Thank you.
LiTTleLoTTe1991: (pulls on shirt) I think Misty will definitely approve.
Note to all: Still accepting any and all applications for minionship. Notice of deadline will be posted in Minion HQ when the appropriate time comes.
Disclaimer: "Doll on a Music Box" is from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and I don't own it.