Summary: What if everyone's favorite Phantom opened a school of Phantoming? What chaos would ensue? Would Erik survive all the Phan Girl attacks? Well, lucky for you, this authoress has nothing better to do than create. So enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera
A/N: Warning: This was written out of pure boredom, because I'm a loser that has nothing better to do on a Friday night. So if insane teenage girls scare you, leave now!
We are please to inform you that you have passed our careful screening and have been accepted into our school. Your enrollment beings immediately. Please send your first month's tuition of 20,000 francs as soon as possible. We look forward to having you in our school.
Dean of admissions
The day this letter was received was the day an alleged "earthquake" occurred. However, our scientists have found the real disaster. We believe it was a large group of "Phantom Phanatics" screaming. This doesn't sound too disastrous, that is, if your name is not Erik Destler, who mistakenly enrolled this group of "Phantom Phans" in his academy for Phantoming and other Opera Ghastly things.
(Authoress randomly inserts herself) Ok, let's get on with this Phic already!
(Throat clears) Yes… of course. So, as the authoress said: On with the phic.
Erik looked at his class in utter horror. In the front row, every female student was crammed on the tiny seats. A few of them, he noticed, we were wearing a t-shirt featuring himself with the words "Number One Phan" written across the front.
Turning to his assistant he whispered, "Just how careful was our screening?"
The woman shrugged. "I think if they applied, we accepted them."
"Oh, yes… veery careful!" he cried sarcastically and possibly a little too loudly.
Then, as he looked toward the back, he saw the male students, causing his panic to grow. Screaming like a little girl, he cried, "Oh, my gosh! They're all fop clones!"
The boys were trading lip-gloss… I mean, fluffing their hair… I mean… I mean…
Erik: (looks up at authoress) It's ok… everyone knows how fops are (glares at a random version of Raoul, who happens to be fluffing his pink mini skirt)…
Authoress: Ok, I know not all Raouls are like that…
So to continue…
At that moment, Christine walked in. "Is this the right place? I'm looking for that one place that you go to buy things… uhh… what's it called?"
Authoress butts in again, saying, "A store?"
Christine stood for a few minutes thinking then said, "No, I don't think that's it… wait… what isn't it?" Then, shrugging her shoulders, she skipped merrily out the door with our pink-mini-skirt-wearing Raoul.
A/N: What did I tell you? Insane teenage girl with nothing better to do… well, review, but please don't flame.