Night of the Living Out of Character People
The Phantom of the Opera Menace
A.N.: So, I was going through the laborious process of trying to find some RC fanfiction, and through the search engine, I couldn't help noticing a pattern. What I found often involved Raoul sleeping with another woman so Christine runs back to Erik, or Raoul realizes far too late his true dream is to be a flamboyantly gay stripper at the local bar – because they had those in 19th century France, or, my personal favorite, Raoul randomly becomes an alcoholic, thus forcing Christine to go to Al-Anon meetings. I also noticed a second pattern. Some how, despite how thoroughly dead he was….Erik is somehow alive. My brain goes sploddy. So, I do this in honor of the fact that I'm sick and tired of watching Raoul be bashed. Watch as I'm sporked to hell.
It was a fine, calm night in the Paris Opera house. Everything was quiet seven basement floors down, so the corpse in the coffin was enjoying a nice, long sleep. No waking up for this boy, no sir. He was playing Parcheesi with the saints.
And then….it happened.
The random regeneration fairy suddenly popped out of nowhere, her glittering wings of glittery-ness making pale, sparkly light in the dank dungeon. With a wave of her wand, Erik, aka Corpse in the Coffin, suddenly opened his eyes.
"How odd!" he exclaimed, putting hands to his face to suddenly find his mask there. "I was most certain I was dead."
"Yeah, whatever," drawled the fairy, her personality not quite so sparkly. "Listen, I'm just doing this for the fifty bucks they paid me. Now, get up and get going, you've got to get to Sweden!"
"But why?" asked Erik, quite thoroughly puzzled, not only because he was alive, but because he was talking to a sparkly fairy. He didn't normally do that. "What's in Sweden?"
The fairy smiled maliciously. "Christine."
Christine de Chagny, happy wife of five years, was happily playing with her happy son in their happy little garden. It was a mess of happy. It was so happy that the author had to go to the hospital for over dosing on fluffy happiness. She is quite recovered, now, thank you for asking. However, continuing with the happy happiness.
Little Augustine had inherited his perfect parents perfect genes, so we all know exactly how cute and sickeningly lovable he'll grow up to be. Christine was just contemplating how happy she was in her happy life, when something very unhappy happened.
In fact, it was so unhappy, that she died- wait, no, wrong story. Moving on to the unhappiness formerly known as happy.
Christine nearly screamed, grabbing little Augustine and pulling him against her. "No, it can't be true!" she cried, gazing at the not so happy sight.
It was a very travel weary Erik, just in from Paris, having run there as fast as he could. Erik is terribly athletic like that, as you know. He's like Jesus, he can even run on water. Oh yes he can. He is very amazing.
"Christine, my love!" Erik exclaimed, falling against a garden bench, a bit winded from his long run. "I have returned to rescue you!"
"Rescue me? From what? And how are you here, Erik? You were dead."
"Was I really?"
"Yes, I saw you. You looked very dead." She paused, considering for a moment. "Well, you know….deader than usual."
Erik blinked for a moment, extremely puzzled by this. "How terribly odd….Nonetheless, here I am, come to sweep you off your feet!"
"But I do not wish to be swept!"
"No! Raoul and I are living out our happy lives in perfectly perfect happiness. This is Augustine," she pointed to her child, who was staring at Erik with wide eyes. "Augustine, darling, this is the bad man that abducted Mommy during her performance at the Opera House and nearly blew it up."
"You screw up one time!"
"Hello bad man that abducted Mommy during her performance at the Opera House and nearly blew it up," he quoted in what can only be called a cute to infinity manner. Such cuteness. The author then overdosed on little Augustine's cuteness, and had to go to the hospital yet again. But I believe they have a cream for that now, so she shall be alright.
Suddenly, from inside the house, came the sweet voice of none other than Christine's loving, perfect, happy husband. "Oh, sweetie pumpkin?"
Christine nervously tore her eyes away from Erik, calling back to her beloved. "Yes, sugar pie?"
Raoul walked happily out the door and to the garden, not noticing the resurrected Phantom of the Opera for a moment. "There's some Jehovah Witnesses at the door passing out fliers. Should I- Mary, Mother of God!" It was then that le vicomte noticed the masked man standing in the middle of his rose garden, and he instantly rushed to his wife and son's side, randomly convenient sword in hand. "What is he doing here! He is supposed to be dead!"
Erik, too, suddenly had a shiny sword, and drew it, pointing it menacingly. Indeed, it was the sword of menacing pointing. "Well….Well you're supposed to be….screw it. Bring it, sailor boy!" The two enemies were about to fly to vicious mortal combat when the author suddenly realized that monkeys had somehow gotten a hold of her computer. She has shooed them away now, allowing more in character events to take place. She is sorry, but does not have the time to wait and see if they will, in fact, type Shakespeare.
"Raoul," Christine scolded sternly, "I thought we agreed not to have weapons around Augustine."
"I'm sorry, angel face," Raoul apologized, sheathing his random sword. "I do not know what came over me."
Of course, the clever reader and the supremely talented author who will one day rule the world knew exactly what had happened! That's right! Phanbrats had gotten a hold of them, and were now forcing them to go through the out of character actions of their choice. But what are these actions, who are these phanbrats, and why do my palms never tan? Stay tuned for the next exciting chapter, Attack of the Trap Door Lover! Dun, dun, dun……