OK, I wrote this to get rid of my writers block, so don't read too much into this, oh, and a warning, if you love Raoul back out now. This is not a fic for you, and I don't want to be flamed for not giving warning for my out of control muse.

Really, I don't have anything against Raoul, this is just . . . fun. It's not serious, so don't read into it.

Disclaimer: POTO doesn't belong to me, and the song belongs too Right Said Fred.

This story is dedicated to my sister, and every other Phan who heard this song and immediately thought of Raoul.

By MiraJade

Oh, that fateful day. It had started out so promising to.

All peace and quiet in the home beyond the lake. Thoughts only interrupted by the sound of pen scratching against paper, and the pounding of the organ in the background.

Composing had been followed by stalking, and that by Christine's music lesson. That had ended beautifully, if not for leaving him a bit depressed, but hey. Since when was that something out of the ordinary?

The torture had started when he was walking back from Christine's dressing room. The strangest sound had hit him out of no where. Not strange in a good way. It had reminded him of the sound of fingernails scratching against slate. He raised his leather clad hands to his overly sensitive ears. What in the world was making that sound? And, more importantly, where was it so he could put the poor thing out of it's misery?

He stalked closer to the sound, and it became more clearer. It lost the high pitchness, and now sounded as if a alto tenor was trying to force his voice down into a low baritone. The result was a nauseating mockery of masculinity that would have made any other person break out laughing. Erik was not a laughing person, so he merely frowned in disdain.

The sounds turned into words, and a faint sense of terror swept over him as he turned the corner to come across the tunnels that led to the guest quarters. There in front of one of the one way mirrors was none other than Raoul de Chagny.

He was singing.

In front of the mirror.

Dancing too.

The words finally registered, and Erik blinked in shock with his mouth wide open.

"I'm too sexy for my shirt
too sexy for my shirt
So sexy it hurts "

Golden eyes turned naturally wide as he watched the horrific sight before him. Raoul strutted, and flipped his hair over his shoulder in a decidedly feminine movement. Erik did his best to not have a total melt down.

"I'm too sexy for my love,
too sexy for my love
Love's going to leave me

If only Christine could be so smart, Erik thought as he looked at the peacock strutting in front of the mirror. It was like reading a scene from a horror book. On one hand you were shocked and appalled by the blood and gore, and for some reason you couldn't make yourself look away.

"I'm a model you know what I mean
And I do my little turn on the catwalk
Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah
I do my little turn on the catwalk "

Erik shuddered, and felt vile rise in his throat as he watched Raoul wink and laugh merrily.

"I'm too sexy for my horse
too sexy for my horse
Too sexy of course."

Erik's stomach started to turn sickly, and a vein started to throb in his forehead. Distantly he found himself pitying then poor beast that had to carry the fruity noble around.

"And I'm too sexy for my hat
Too sexy for my hat
what do you think about that?"

Erik's answer wouldn't have been very nice at all. His pale face turned even more sickly, and his hand twitched on the rope at his side. Truly, he would be doing the world a favor if he killed the frilly fop. What court in it's right mind would convict him? This of course would be his first piece of evidence.

It would be called charity.

"I'm a model you know what I mean
And I do my little turn on the catwalk
Yeah on the catwalk on the catwalk yeah
I shake my little touche on the catwalk"

The Phantom watched in horror as his arch enemy actually shimmied and shook along to the imagined beat. He bristled at the unfairness at having to compete with such a frilly fop.

What would he do if he actually lost to this . . . thing?

"I'm too sexy for my too sexy for my too sexy for my "

Erik felt what little was left of his sanity shrivel up and fade away. If he said that horrid word one more time . . .

"I'm too sexy for my cat
too sexy for my cat
Poor pussy poor pussy cat"

Erik felt sorry for the poor thing as well. His vision started to swim as prancing Raoul's danced in his head. His spidery hands came up to cradle his head, and bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the grisly sight in front of him.

"I'm too sexy for my love
too sexy for my love
Love's going to leave me"

Unable to take any more Erik began crawling away. Slowly but surely making his escape. Yet the song just kept playing itself over and over in his head. He couldn't make it . . .

Erik, the feared Phantom of the Opera and Living Corpse, fainted at the overwhelm of fop upon his senses.

Inside his room Raoul smiled and finished.

"And I'm too sexy for this fic!"


Runs before the flames could catch her.

Oh, and I did change some of the words to the song to make it fit the time period.