I am continuing my one-shots and leaving my real fics dormant. Ah well, you know what they say, 'Live life while your alive' or some such useless crud. (I never really listen to them myself…)
It was the middle of the famed Don Juan Triumphant, and all of the Paris elite were there to be nosey (you didn't actually think they were coming for the performance, did you). Unfortunately, the girls in box two absolutely refused to stop talking.
"I feel sorry for poor old P-guy."
"You mean Pigani."
"Yeah, him. Not only does he have that unpronounceable name, he's on the Phantom's most wanted list there. Right under that Viscount feller. Doomity doom doom rains down like coconuts."
"First, Pigani is not unpronounceable. Second, what are you talking about?"
"What do you mean what am I talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"What in the name of Henry VIII's enormous undies and matching corset are you talking about?"
The saner (more sane? Eh, whatever) of the girls rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother having conversations with you?"
The other girl (who, strangely enough, has never been photographed with the slightly famous Slightly Angst Spirit) munched on her pop-corn reflectively for a moment. "You're one of those eternally hopeful saps apparently."
The sane one (or SO for short) tosses a popcorn kernel at the insane one's head (IO for short).
"Really, I think I should do something, but I'm worried about the Phantom Tollbooth."
"You mean the Phantom of the Opera."
"No, the Phantom Tollbooth is what worries me. Apparently, you have to pay a toll to see the Phantom. I'm low on cash…"
SO sighed. "The Phantom of the Opera and the Phantom Tollbooth are mutually exclusive."
"Oooooh. Well, that's handy!" And with a chipper wave, IO cried, "Tally ho the fop, Slightly Angsty away!"
SO grabbed IO's cloak before she could make it out of the box, however. "Really, we don't want another roof incident."
"Pish and posh and whatnot, I am a month wiser. Or, older at least…"
"Really J-" IO clamped her hand over SO's mouth.
"Do not reveal my secret identity fool!"
SO seemed annoyed for a moment, but then smiled. "So my choir-haunting fiend, what is your plan?"
IO gave an alarming smile. "Plan? What beith this plan of which you speak?" she questioned, and then whisked SO away.
Raoul gasped, hearing the conversation from box five. "They're going to get themselves killed!" He got up to save them or some such characteristic Raoul thing when a voice was heard, projected though-out the opera house, like the time that the Phantom (Ok, this is irritating, I'm calling him Erik) decided to grouse about the occupancy of his box.
"Dead men tell no tales."
"If you're not going to be serious-"
"Sorry, sorry, I simply couldn't help myself. I'll do it right this time."
"I surely hope so."
"Kay, here's the deal. Don't go killing anyone, cuz it's bad, immoral, and I have a gun fixed on Christine's head."
"WHAT!" Raoul and Erik cried in unison.
"Yeppers. Ya see, you put me between a rock, a hard place, and the iron giant, so I had to do something drastic. Rather diabolical of me, yes no?"
The Opera Populare stood a moment in silent shock.
"And, if you follow my easy instruction, everyone shall emerge unscathed. At least not by us. Well, everyone but that guy I accidentally kicked in the head on my way up…"
Erik snarled and pushed Christine behind him. "What is it you want, impudent child?"
"Lupines." There was muffled laughter. "Ok, no really, I want you and de Changny over there to shake hands, shut-up, and give poor Christine a choice."
"But we've given her a choice!" called out a perturbed Raoul.
The voice snorted. "Riiiight. You never gave her a choice. Erik just told her to go with him to the darkness and you're telling her all about all you ask is to love me, blablabla. Really, you two tend to corner her. No wonder she's mental."
"Now now, Christine is not mental, she's just confused. It's understandable," chided SO.
"Little voices are singing songs in her head. If I went around telling people that there were little singing voices in my head, I would be off to Bedlam so fast my head would spin."
A loud sigh was heard. It was interrupted, not by the voice, but by Raoul, who had hurried on to the stage and shook the Phantom's hand very quickly.
"Humph. No one listens till you're a big voice with a gun."
Raoul stared up at the ceiling, where the voice seemed to originate from. "Now will you lower your weapon?"
"My what?"
"Weapon, girl!" (Erik had realized the voice was young and female.) "Lower the gun you have pointed at Christine!"
"Oh. Forgot about that one, sorry. I made that up. But anywho, give Christine a choice or a disaster beyond Andre and Firmin's imaginations will occur!"
"Andre and Firmin's imaginations," questioned a befuddled Raoul. (Mostly in shock)
"Well, you two could probably think up something worse than I'm 'planning'…"
It was at this time that the previously silent opera-goers noticed Erik, striding towards the spot from where the voice was coming. (By ropes fool. He can't fly...)
"Nice try my tollbooth-less fiend, but we shall overcome and all that clichéd jazz!"
The Phantom's theme music suddenly blared and the voices were gone. And when I say the Phantom's theme, I mean that in the loosest terms. It was the same tune, but apparently played by Oomapa Loompas on various odd instruments.
Erik turned to Raoul and Christine and gave an exasperated sigh. "Who are they, and more importantly, how the heck do we get rid of these, these-"
"Phantom menaces?" suggested the voice, which then laughed and left once more.
Christine then turned, surveying the opera. "Wait, how did I get here? I was in Halfabrainastan just a scene ago…"
Oh my. I am weird. Oh well, one must write a senseless non sequier once and a while…
Review replies:
the sexy muffin- Incomprehensible funny is my specialty.
Baby-vixen- Dually noted dear. But remember, she who slaps last slaps the slapingnest!
Skywind- Oh dear. I hope neither reviewer nor ground was hurt. The ground continues to pelt me with frivolous lawsuits…
Grace- Why thank you. I was the age of the interlopers. Now, the interlopes and I hath aged. –Nod-
Maidenhair- True, true. I only make sense when I really feel like it, or it is truly imperative.
Calliope Foster- Ah the ever revered Muffin Man…
MagickAlianne- Velcome, velcome dahling. Puns are fun.
Moreen Cafell-Wow, I have absolutely no voice from yesterday… :D
Capin'Jack- Don't worry, you're only mostly dead. Which makes you slightly alive.
Rabid Gerbil 666- That would be scary… hides
SimplyElymas- The link didn't show up… But glad that the Muffin Man is so loved. :D
LittleMeg- sweatdrop I've put off my betaing to the point of… Well…. Heh….