The Parody of the Opera
By Serena Kenobi
Hello! This is my first real phanfic, a humorous parody. I hope you enjoy it. I also want to do a serious one, but I want to see how this goes first. There will be bashing of the characters... and expect some randomness. Just warning you!
Disclaimer: I own the Phantom of the Opera. The DVD counts... right?
It was a normal day in the Opera Populaire… Carlotta was screeching, Reyer was whining, Piangi was cowering, Madame Giry was rolling her eyes, and Christine was covering her ears.
"This really isn't fair," she complained to Meg. "Why can't my guardian angel just get rid of that old cow?"
Meg gave her a strange look. "Guardian angel?"
"Well DUH!" Christine retorted, slapping her forehead, "My angel of music! If he's an angel of music then he'll realize that it's a SIN to keep this ratfink the prima donna!"
Meg shrugged and went to go stretch.
Raoul De Chagny was a happy man. He had a huge house, coddling parents, money to boot, and good looks! "If I do say so myself," he said slyly, walking into the Opera house.
"Ah, we're so glad you could join us, Le Vicompte!" Firmin said, clapping his hands.
"You will be joining us for the gala tonight, won't you?" Andre gushed.
Raoul nodded. "Indeed! I want everyone to see my good looks!" He tossed his head, golden locks waving in the air.
They found Monsieur LeFevre, who showed them around the Opera. The cast and smyphony were rehearsing Hannibal when they entered onto the stage.
"What's the meaning of this!" Reyer stormed, "We are rehearsing!" he stomped his foot and pouted.
"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry," LeFevre said in an apologetic tone, "I know there have been rumors of my retirement, and I can now tell you these were all true, and I would like to show you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire. Monsieurs Firmin and Andre. "
There was a polite clapping. Most weren't really interested.
"Eh, managers come and go," Christine muttered.
"I'd like to see how long these two stay before the Phantom drives them to madness!" Meg chuckled, rubbing her hands together.
Christine raised an eyebrow. "Dude, you are obsessed with the Phantom, aren't you?"
"It comes and goes," her friend replied nonchalantly.
Meanwhile, Firmin was speaking. "And we'd like to introduce you to the Patron of the Populaire, the Vicompte de Chagny!"
There was more clapping for Raoul as he came, strutting onto the stage. "My parents and I are honored to support all the arts, especially the world renown Opera Populaire," he said in a dignified tone.
"This is Carlotta and Piangi," LeFevre introduced them in a bored voice. "They've been our leading lady and… man… for several seasons now."
Raoul nodded. "Very well," he answered, "But I think I'm keeping you from your rehearsal, so I'll just be leaving now."
"Please do," Mme. Giry muttered.
Raoul cast her an annoyed look before brushing right past Christine. She barely gave him a sideways glance.
"Christine, he's so handsome," Meg cooed.
Christine, however, shrugged. "Eh, he could be better," she retorted, "But he's to pansy-ish. He was a boy when he fetched my scarf, and he still looks like one now."
"You know him?" Meg gasped, eager to hear the details.
Christine nodded. "Yep. A long time ago, before Dad croaked. He was a complete self absorbed conceited boy, and it doesn't look like he's changed. No big deal." She abruptly walked away.
"Is he available then?" Meg called after her hopefully.
The managers had made Carlotta mad by staring at the dancing girls, so she was screaming at the top her lungs. "And I 'ate a my 'at!" she yelled, pointing to her headdress.
"You ate your hat?" Firmin asked, confused. She glared at him before bursting into crocodile tears.
"Please senora, sing for us!" Andre begged, getting on one knee. "Prima Donna, first lady of the stage, your devotees are their knees to–" Firmin abruptly socked him in the gut.
"You blasted fool, that song doesn't come until Act Five!" he hissed, yanking Andre off the floor.
"Three sir!" a stagehand called out.
"Three!" Firmin corrected himself, annoyed. "Wait, is it three?" he shrugged, neither knowing or caring.
"Please senora, sing for us, as a personal favor," Andre pleaded desperately.
Carlotta instantly brightened up. "If a my mangers command," she said, batting her eyelashes.
"If my diva commands," Reyer replied stiffly.
"Yes, I do," Carlotta snapped, and stormed off to the center stage. "Everybody be quiet!" she hollered.
Reyer sighed and said, "From the beginning of the aria then, please." He lifted his wand.
Carlotta began to sing. "Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said GOOOOD.. byeee!" The mangers, along with everyone else, cringed. "Remember me… once in a while, please promise me YOUUUUUU'LLL.. tryyy…"
Christine was staring up at the ceiling, muttering to herself, "Angel, now would be an EXCELLENT time for you to get your butt over here!..."
Suddenly, backdrop came crashing down on Carlotta, and she resorted to screeching. Nothing new.
"What's going on up there?" Firmin shouted angrily.
Meg was staring at the backdrop, transfixed. "It's the Phantom of the Opera," she trailed off. Mme. Giry walked over to a deserted part of the stage, glanced around her, and whisked out a Nextel walkie-talkie.
"This is Giry to OG, come in OG," she said in a low voice.
There was a slight pause before there was an answer on the other line. "OG to Giry, I read you," The Phantom replied. "Was the operation successful?"
"Yes, Operation Screeching Toad was successful," Mme Giry replied. "I repeat, Operation Screeching Toad was successful. Do you roger that?"
There was a crackling on the other end before she heard a muffled swearing.
"OG, are you all right?" she asked worriedly.
The Phantom growled. "I stubbed my toe on a door stop," he muttered into the walkie-talkie. "I'll be fine. Good work, Giry. Note will be arriving in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one… one and a half… one and three fourths… one and seven eighths… one and fifteen sixteenths…."
No note was coming down from the rafters, and Madame Giry was becoming very impatient. The Phantom's voice was growing more uncertain.
"One and four fifths… one and nineteen twentieths… one and– oh blast. I forgot the stupid note back in my other coat pocket. I should've made a few copies," he hissed angrily.
Mme Giry rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Never mind, I'll just write my own note," she replied into the Nextel. "I have some paper here with me. Tell me what you want it to say, and hurry up about it!"
The Phantom thought for a minute. "Let's see… 'Dear Mangers. Welcome to my Opera House. My salary is due, which is 20,000 francs a month. You will leave Box five empty for my use, courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Opera Ghost.'"
"That's fine," Mme Giry replied hurriedly, "Giry out." She quickly put the Nextel away and darted back onto the main stage, where Carlotta was leaving with her crew.
"Carlotta will be coming back, won't she?" Andre whined, fanning himself. Reyer shrugged helplessly.
Mme Giry hurried up to them, slightly panting. "Ihaveamessagefromtheoperaghost," she said in one breath. Everyone stared at her.
"Excuse me?" Firmin said, confused.
"Maybe she said that the Opera needs some new posts," Reyer guessed.
"Or that she needs a breath mint," Andre added randomly. Now everyone stared at him.
Mme Giry glared at him. "I said, I have a message from the Opera Ghost," she said more slowly.
Andre nervously chuckled. "Well, with that accent and how fast you were talking, you could have said anything," he replied.
"Shut up," Giry hissed. Andre closed his mouth.
That's the first chapter. I NOW COMMAND YOU TO REVIEW! Oh boy, I'm sounding like Carlotta... I'll try a different tactic.
Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.