A/N: I do solemnly swear that this will be hilarious if you are annoyed by the super-insane phangirls that you find often here on fan fiction. please, read on.
It was one week later, and no 'curse' had followed. Erik considered it now an empty threat made by a pink bubble.
He was playing on his organ...again. The voices in his lair had gently subsided, and he only heard every now and then some kid snorting and laughing about France. Blasting organ music, again, solved that problem.
He suddenly and mysteriously began to get that feeling he was being watched. He didn't know why. After a week of being stalked by invisible Munchkins, he reasonably chose to ignore it for his sanity's sake.
Suddenly, he heard a voice, which made him jump five feet in the air off his organ bench and then hit twelve wrong notes.
"Well, dearie, prepare yourself, for the curse is now at hand!"
"You know, you never quite explained this curse," he said.
"It needs no explanation! Good-bye!!" she shrieked quickly. Glinda then laughed maniacally and said no more.
Erik sat there in silence for a moment, and then shook his head and continued playing.
Yup, she was a crazy one, all right, he thought.
Suddenly, he heard someone coming across the lake on the boat. He turned around, highly alarmed.
What is this, Intrude On Erik's Privacy Week? he thought in exasperation. I'll never get anything done around here if people keep deciding to drop by for a visit.
Erik sighed loudly, rolling his eyes, and proceeded to hide himself with a lasso, of course, in hand.
The boat docked, and a girl dressed very oddly came out.
'Dressed very oddly' meant she was covered head to toe with Phantom of the Opera memorabilia.
"Oh my gosh," she said, shaking in awe of the dusty and somewhat dirty lair. "I have a feeling I'm not in Kansas anymore. I'm here. I'm in his lair. Oh my gosh, this isn't happening. This isn't happening! Oh, my gosh, oh, my gosh, Oh, MY GOSH!!!! THIS IS LIKE, THE BEST FREAKING DAY OF MY LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!"
Erik frowned as he proceeded to hear excited squeals and see some disturbing dancing.
"Okay, I don't know what she thinks she's seeing, but this has got to stop, now."
Erik came out of hiding just in time to stop her from playing on his organ.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!!" he bellowed, threateningly holding the lasso. She fell over and just as quickly hopped back up and into his arms.
"Oh my gosh. Oh, my GOSH!!! IT'S YOU! AUGH!!! IT'S GERRY!!!"
Erik frowned and tried to pry her off with a surprising amount of difficulty. "I am not 'Gerry', I am--"
"Come on, Gerry, you Scot, I know you're so hot underneath that mask, and like, you tooooootally love me now, because I am a fan fiction writer and I looooooove the 2004 movie with Andrew Lloyd Webber, and I say so."
Before Erik could say anything to her, some strange Supreme Author Power granted by fan fiction to this girl forced him to say in a robotic monotone, "You are right, Tracie, I love you, and so much more than Christine, and you are so hot, and you can sing just like Christine if not better, and--"
"Oh, Gerry!" she then proceeded to 'make out' with him, against his will.
Time seemed to stop for Erik as he broke down the strange chain of events that just occurred. For one, he didn't even know who she was—he thought he said her name was Tracie, but really, it could have been anything. He had almost no control over himself. He secondly was confused by her choice in apparel. Images of his mask were plastered all over her. And so many people thought he was the creepy stalker. Three, he didn't know what fan fiction was, or what a movie was. Finally, who was this 'Gerry', who she referred to as a Scot? He didn't really want to take the time to find out. He just wanted this all to end--NOW.
Erik knew there was only one way of saving himself from this—this deranged maniac. However, she did it for him. She ripped off his mask to get a better look at his 'hotness' (as she described it) as she was attacking him, and then fully beheld him.
Instead of seeing 'Gerry' (whoever that is, Erik thought), she saw a head that looked more like a skull. He took great pleasure as she screamed and shrunk in horror to the other side of the lair. Erik laughed, regaining the power of volition once more.
"Stupid, foolish girl! I don't know who you think you are to sneak down here, or how you managed to, but you--"
Suddenly, he felt arms wrap around him from behind which prevented him from lassoing Tracie.
"GERRY!!!" the second assailant screeched, "YOU ARE LIKE, SO HOT!!!!"
"Another one?" he said mostly to himself, trying to pry her off.
Tracie tried giving her a pleading look from the corner, but the poor phangirl was completely oblivious to her warnings, thinking only of Gerard Butler and how she was going to replace the role of Emmy Rossum.
When Erik turned around in a rather violent and quick manner, the phangirl immediately planted a huge kiss on him before he could react and before she saw his face.
He finally threw her off of him and she then saw his face. She also screamed bloody murder, and now that she was looking at everything else other than the Phantom, she noticed Tracie and scurried over to her for safety. The two phangirls huddled next to each other for safety.
Erik was becoming less and less amused at this situation, and he wasn't amused to begin with.
"Alright, this madness has to stop. I--"
"GERRY!!" said a chorus of girls behind him.
Ok, how many this time? he thought, trying to be rational.
He slowly turned around and saw the lair totally, absolutely, completely filled with them, as far as the eye can see.
Words could not describe exactly how he felt, but the words he swore are not suitable to repeat for the rating of this story.
Amazingly, the phangirl mob was not yet looking at him directly. They were all fighting each other trying to get to him first, splashing around in the lake, and arguing who he liked best.
Upon perceiving all this, he did the one thing he could: he fled to a backroom, but as he was going, he grabbed a hostage, Tracie, by the wrist and dragged her along. This was going to end, no matter what it took.
Once safely inside, he skillfully bolted the door shut several times and lit a candle.
"Sit," he ordered her fiercely. She obeyed, fear flickering in her eyes.
"Who are you?" he spat vilely. "And who are they?"
"Um… we're all from We're all phangirls. My name is Tracie."
"What is fan fiction dot net? And what are fan girls?"
"Well, phangirls are like, fans of the Phantom of the opera, like, the actual Phantom, not just like, the story. It's spelled with a 'ph' instead of an 'f'… it's like a pun."
Erik didn't look amused. Tracie gulped and continued. "And is, like, a writing site. We're all writers. I tried getting you to fall in love with me in my phanphic... spelled with 'ph', not 'f', of course..."
"So I see," he said, wishing he had some soap or something to wash his mouth out with. "Do these 'phanphics' happen a lot on there?"
"Uh… kind of," she said quietly.
Erik blinked and then began massaging his forehead while again swearing under his breath. His forehead had been in splitting pain ever since he over-exerted his frowning muscles during his meeting with Glinda last week, and this stress was making it worse.
"By the way, why am I being called 'Gerry'?"
"Oh, Gerard Butler," she giggled, blushing. Erik gave her a sharp look and her joviality ceased. "He played you in a movie."
"And what on earth is a movie?"
"It's pretty much, like, a play you can, like, watch in your own house, on a box called a television… or like, in my case, on my cell phone."
Erik blinked, not comprehending practically anything she said. He decided to move on.
"And this Andrew Lloyd…uh..."
"Webber—he wrote all the music for the movie and the London and Broadway productions."
"Really," he said, sidetracked. "I'm a production? Why on earth—whatever. Is the music any good?"
"We, like, think so, especially when Gerry and Emmy sing it!"
"Emmy?" he asked with a frown.
"She, like, played Christine."
At the sound of her name, he subconsciously clenched his fist, which Tracie picked up on, simply because it's just always good to notice subtleties when someone is possibly going to kill you.
"I'm sorry she left you! We all, like, hate Raoul! He's such a fop. But we all, like—"
"Can you use one sentence without the word 'like' in it?" he asked impatiently, fidgeting with his lasso and massaging his forehead.
"I'll, like—sorry. I'll li--try. But as I was saying, we li--try to write stories where you two get together."
"That doesn't change reality," he grumbled. He stared at Tracie coldly for a moment. It was exactly then that the 'best freaking day of her life' transitioned into the worst one of Tracie's existence.
"Well, dearie, you'd better get on that door!" cackled Glinda suddenly out of the blue (or, rather, the black), surprising Erik again, causing him to knock over the candle, causing it to go out, causing the two people in the room to temporarily go blind due to the lack of light. The door suddenly was being pounded on from the other side.
"Let me in there!" begged one.
"Gerry! Gerry!" one cooed, and many others chanted.
"SAY YOU LOVE ME!" screamed one desperate phangirl.
"Well, dearie?" Glinda said, cackling.
"I'm getting there, you witch!" Erik roared impatiently, his eyesight returning to him.
"Oh, that's the nicest thing you've said all day," Glinda giggled, for a split second almost becoming good.
"I didn't mean it as a compliment, you twit," Erik blurted out before he realized what he said.
"Oh." Glinda became wicked again. "Then prepare for a wrath even worse!"
Erik felt like banging his head against the wall for being stupid as Glinda cackled.
"Who is talking?" Tracie asked, knowing that Erik didn't have a P.A. system in his lair for a fact, since she had watched the movie 567,899 times exactly.
"It's none of your business, dearie!"
"WOULD YOU STOP CALLING US ALL 'DEARIE'?!!!" Erik shouted with a raised fist.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Then of course not, dearie! Heeheehee!"
And then Glinda's voice was gone.
"I really, really hate her," Erik grumbled, clenching his teeth.
"Who was that?"
"Glinda, the Bimbo Queen of the North, that's who."
"Glinda? You mean, as in the Good Witch of the North?"
Erik sharply looked at Tracie. "You know her?"
"Well… she was lik--in a movie that practically the whole world has seen, The Wizard of Oz. It's a classic, duh."
Erik blinked. "I think you see too many movies."
"Well, it's a thing. Everybody watches them."
Erik suddenly got an idea. He then grinned most creepily and wickedly at Tracie. Tracie wouldn't have been too fond of that smile if her eyes had already adjusted to see it in the dark.
"Do you think they will all pretty much do the same thing if pressured?"
"Only if it involves The Phantom of the Opera movie with Gerard Butler."
The door was beginning to splinter and the voices were becoming louder, more desperate.
"LET ME IIIIIIIIINNNN!!!!"
"OUT OF MY WAY!"
"I don't have much time for this," Erik said with an annoyed sigh, taking out his Punjab lasso.
"What are you going to do with that?" Tracie asked, feeling the rope around her neck.
"Be silent and still if you want to live."
Tracie did both as she was tied up by Erik.
"Now, you say you have that movie on your... phone?"
"The Wizard of Oz? No, but--"
"NO! I—oh, my... Why, just why? Why me? The Phantom of the Opera!"
Erik suddenly felt weird talking about himself in the third person.
"Oh, yeah… um… I need to get to my phone, which is that shiny silver thing in my pocket."
Erik stared at her.
"I can't get it. You tied me up."
Erik rolled his eyes and handed it to her after taking it from her pocket.
"Get that movie on there, now."
"Ok, hold on."
"You have 10 seconds."
"What?! Are you crazy?"
Erik wondered if he should take that as a rhetorical question or as a sign of disrespect. Tracie didn't say anything else but instead focused on getting that movie up on her phone.
The door finally was broken down and opened and a torrential flood of soaked, scratched, and crazed girls came in. Erik took his cue and quickly retreated into the darkness of the room. He needed to get to his supply closet in the back where all the spare lassoes were, anyway.
"Where is Gerry?" one crazed girl demanded of Tracie, who was all tied up in the noose and all the works. She apparently did not notice all the rope work.
"He'll be, uh, right back, but he said watch the movie… here."
She turned her phone around which was playing the movie.
"Are you kidding me?" one chubby girl remarked, her hands on her hips. "I have the DVD with me."
"AND I HAVE A DVD PLAYER!!!" another squealed. "WE CAN SO WATCH IT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!"
All the twenty or fifty phangirls agreed that it was a wonderful idea, since 'Gerry' was no where to be found. They all plopped down in front of the small screen.
It was then that Tracie decided she was no longer a phangirl and put her phone back in her pocket with some difficulty, considering the fact that she was tied up and no one was taking notice of her now.
Erik came back from the supply closet and found the fifty to one hundred girls sitting in front of a DVD player, totally absorbed in the film.
He was about to easily claim his first lasso victim when he heard Gerard Butler sing. It was like hearing fingernails on a blackboard to him.
"They chose him to play me?! He can't even sing! Furthermore, he doesn't even look like me!"
Not only was it Invade Erik's Privacy Week, but today was Stupid Day, in more ways than one, for Erik. Before he could slap his forehead at the fatuity of his thoughtless remark, the hundred to two hundred phangirls quickly whirled around in creepily simultaneous fashion at the sound of his voice. Since it was dark, they could not see his face.
"Actually, 'it is he' is the correct grammar," said Erik, not knowing why he didn't just lasso the whole bunch of them right then and there instead.
"OH, MY GOSH, HE CORRECTED MY GRAMMAR!!! HE LIKES ME BEST!!! AHHHHHH!"
The girl fainted. By then, no one was paying attention to her, though.
"GET HIM!!!!" the rest shouted in a chorus. They began to sing, "Track down this hot Gerry! He must be mine!"
This is almost as bad as that mob that wanted to kill me, Erik thought.
He heard a cackling above.
No. I take that back. This is a thousand times worse. I think I'd rather be dead right now. This truly is a curse worse than the one I have.
Suddenly, Erik felt some pity for Gerard Butler.
"No one to save you now, dearie! Heheheheheheheheehe!"
"That's where you're wrong!" said a static voice coming from the door.
"Anakin! I thought you were at Oz!" Erik said in surprise, but was then quickly buried by the phangirls.
"I was," Vader began calmly, "but you see, I finished reading that article, and my Storm Troopers are raiding her castle now. I'll set up my Death Star Base Thing-y in Oz once I am victorious, and I'll give you your shoes back once you take care of... this interesting problem you've got there," Vader said, unsure of what exactly to call it, though 'brouhaha' might have worked nicely.
Erik lassoed some girls, some of which were staring at Darth Vader at the time and didn't notice a thing. He couldn't do it very well, though, and some of them escaped the loose nooses; this was mostly because he was being tackled mercilessly, which made this whole activity a little more difficult.
"You know," Erik said, trying to keep his head above them all and lasso a few at the same time. "You could help me, if you really wanted to."
"Oh," Vader said. "Sure."
He took out his red light saber.
At the sight of the glowing, red saber, half the girls in the room flooded out in mass exodus and jumped into the lake in an attempt to escape. The rest that continued suffocating Erik had a less happy fate: Erik's monkey music box began to play (as it did every day at 4 o'clock), and all fifty rabid phangirls left lifted up their heads—simultaneously, nonetheless—like the moles on a whack-a-mole game, and in that brief moment of distraction they were all trapped in invisible Punjab lassos, all thanks to Darth Vader.
Erik stood up (for he had just recently been finally and fully tackled to the ground) and patted the dirt off his clothes. He went over to Vader and patted him on the shoulder.
"Alright. Now that that is settled, let's just lock them up in here and deal with them later. I have quite a headache."
"Sounds good to me," Vader said, letting Erik leave the room first, and then stepping out himself.
"Wait, Erik, what about me?" Tracie cried frantically. "Don't leave me stranded here with--with them!"
Erik stood for a moment in indecision. He was, after all, a murderer. He was not supposed to have pity on his victims. For a split second, her pleading eyes reminded him of Christine...
He therefore told Vader to lock the door on them all. Once the door was locked, all the girls were taken out of their invisible lassoes, and the ones that Erik lassoed just simply walked out of the nooses, and the girls began to fight amongst themselves as to who Erik liked best once more… all except for Tracie, that is, who was still expertly roped down. Tracie, left in the dark with a bunch of crazed, gasping, fighting phangirls, vowed revenge on her once-beloved Erik at all costs.
"Well," Glinda said, back to her regular self, "I suppose I can accept your apology, especially since you're wearing shoes again... they're really shiny. I approve."
"I suppose they would be 'really shiny', since they were doused in water for about a week," Erik replied with clenched teeth which held back his true feelings, "And my apologies are heartfelt and sincere, on the condition that every single last one of these..." Erik searched for a word, but found none satisfactory. "Only if every last one of these returns to Bimboland—I mean, Oz—with you, or wherever they came from, and they don't ever ever come back...ever."
"It's agreed," she said, giggling. "Well, I guess I'm off to Oz… I hope I don't end up here again, no offense. That monkey over there is positively weird, I must say," she said, pointing over to the music box.
Oh, the irony, Erik thought, rolling his eyes. But it didn't matter. She was finally leaving, and hopefully never coming back.
"Anyway, there's no place like Oz, but unfortunately, I just can't seem to get to Oz on the first try! At least on Tuesdays, that is."
"I likewise hope that you don't end up back here again," Erik said, smiling so she mistook it for a friendly notion. It was easier to fake since he was wearing his mask again.
Without a further word, she pulled on a rope which Erik handed her. On it were all the phangirls that had been rounded up. Glinda became a giggling pink bubble and the girls floated on in little pink bubbles behind her. They never did get to see their Gerry without a mask on, besides two of them, much to their obsessive and creepy dismay.
Erik watched the bubbles float off in silent satisfaction, until he noticed that the last one was green. He frowned.
"Odd," he commented to Vader.
"Yes," Darth Vader replied, polishing his light saber's hilt on his cape. "That Glinda is quite… a character," he said, for lack of better words.
Erik was about to tell him that's not what he meant, but instead, he came up with an idea.
"Say, Raoul and Christine are supposed to be married in another week or so, and I have not yet been able to come up with any good ideas to stop the wedding and get Christine to see that she should marry me instead. Perhaps you can help me."
"A splendid notion," Vader said, sheathing his saber. "My Storm Troopers can handle setting up a base in Oz without me. I told them to convince Glinda that she was made Queen of the Universe. She'll be thrilled and won't interfere with the power shift, one can only hope. Oz is soon going to be renamed the Emerald Empire. Maybe you can visit someday, now that you have your shoes back."
"Yeah," Erik said, still not understanding what was so important about his shoes. "Now, you really have to teach me that invisible Punjab lasso trick."
"Ah," he said, "so you wish to become my apprentice?" Vader chuckled like the evil master he always wanted to be. "I always wanted an apprentice... but alas, poor Luke, I knew him well... ok, not really, he died before I ever got to know him. I have a feeling that he wouldn't have joined me anyway, since I read the original script that we didn't follow. Oh, well, who needs an apprentice with a pink saber, anyway? Let the training begin."
Together, Darth Vader and Erik shared an evil, maniacal laugh.
Tracie sat down at her computer, having just been brought back to reality from a horrible day in the Munchkinland equivalent to Ellis Island. Her feeling of vengeance and hate was still strong, and she needed to write something devastating to get it out of her system.
She was crossing over to the Dark Side of phanphic writing. She now hated the Phantom as much as she hated Raoul. It was time for payback, and in the biggest way she could think of. She needed to write about a disaster beyond anyone's imagination that killed both Phantom and Raoul so fantastically, no one could mistake the fact that they were ultimately dead and NEVER coming back, ever... ever. Ever.
She smiled wickedly as a dark muse inspired her to write a new fan fiction story. Erik would not live to see another day. And neither would Raoul. She laughed maniacally and began to type...
Read and Review, dearies! There is more to come! As I said before, I'm thinking about adding some Harry Potter and High School Musical... if you think of anything else I can throw in to parody, then you're welcome to send in suggestions!