Phantom of the Opera 1. Chapter 1

**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!"

"You don't?"

"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……


	2. Chapter 2

**Night of the Living Out of Character People**

**Attack of the Trap Door Lover**

As if the situation was not awkward enough – the reader will remember that Erik was suddenly not dead, and had random swords of menacing pointing – there came a second fairy, even more sparkly than the first.

"Hello!" she said sweetly, and all the people in the garden stared, certain that there must be too much fluoride in the water these days. "I am the Fairy of Random Out of Character-ness, and I'm bringing you all a present."

"Oh, goody!" Erik cried. "I love presents! What is it? Is it a new torture chamber?"

Raoul and Christine stared at him, drawing Augustine closer to them.

The fairy was also somewhat unnerved by this. "….No….. I've brought you friends to play with and love forever and ever!"

The reader may think, as many a reader often has, that the Fairy of Random Out of Character-ness was bringing puppies. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Instead, also appearing randomly in the garden, were four more people! First there came Sensative!Erik, who, upon seeing Christine, fell weeping at her feet, which made her feel very awkward. Sensative!Erik was followed by Raoul's evil twin brother, Rodney, who was drinking heavily, pistol in hand, and trying to fire at the sparrows perched on the picket fence. He was followed by their cousin, Rupert the Wimpy, who, at the sight of Erik, burst into tears, hiding behind Rodney, who promptly cuffed him in his drunken rage of drunkenness. To finish the happy party off, there came Slutty!Christine, complete with an opera costume that showed far more of her midriff than was appropriate, her bosom beginning to fall out.

After a very long, confused silence, the real Raoul managed to say, "Who are all of you and what on God's green earth are you doing in my rose garden!"

The drunken Raoul twin Rodney slung his arm around his good twin's shoulder, slurring, "No idea, chap. I don't suppose you have an ardent spirits to help a man? This little whore," he now grabbed the slutty Christine's wrist, giving it a vicious yank, "has been causing me nothing but trouble."

Raoul, being the good sweet man of good sweetness that he is, was instantly offended, shoving his evil twin off his shoulder. "Monster! How dare you touch my wife! I mean…um….the woman who….looks like my wife….sorta…." Confused, he paused a moment, glancing from Christine to Slutty Christine, who, from here on shall be referred to as Smutstine. Finally, he had to ask, "Who's what again?"

"Raoul, darling, I'm over here," his wife said, shaking her head.

"Oh, yes, of course, love."

Sensative!Erik, or, as we shall call him, Serik, had resumed making a weepy puddle at Christine's ankles. "Christine, I adore you, and you've broken my heart! But I am here to save you!" He then stared at Augustine, quite surprised. "Is he mine?"

Christine was both shocked and disgusted. "Good Heaven's, no! We never had any promiscuous behavior, Erik!"

Raoul had just had the shocker of his life, and grabbing his son, stalked over to the other side of the garden, crying. "Christine, you promised you didn't let him do anything!"

Christine was upset as well, not to mention confused. "I didn't, love, honest! You know better than anyone that it was you that took my virginity."

Rodney waggled a suggestive eyebrow. "And she's not the only one I've sprung."

Raoul, hearing this comment, rushed across the garden, seizing his twin by the throat like a fighting dog. "Brute! How dare you speak to the Vicomtess de Chagny so coarsely?"

And through all of this, while Rupert huddled in a corner in the fetal position and Smutstine hit on Serik, the real Erik just sort of stood there and blinked. pal, get in line," snarled Raoul, having released his evil twin's throat. Finally, he herded his family inside the house, locking the poorly conceived copies as well as the real Erik outside.

…

"Okay, can someone please explain what's going on?"

Christine blinked, shook her head, and said nothing. Augustine proceeded to flop onto the floor, playing with a small toy pony. "You know as well as we do, dear heart," Christine finally said.

"Maybe if we just ignore them, they'll go away?" Suggested her husband, taking a seat opposite her.

"Raoul, we can't keep them in the garden forever!"

"You're right, they're stepping on the begonias."

"That's not quite the reason I was thinking of, but I suppose it works…."

"What if we tie them in a bag and put them on a train far, far away?"

"They'd never fit in a bag?"

"Okay, sweetheart, I'm loath to do this, you know that, but I think this is the final solution: I'll get my pistol, take them out back one by one, and-"

"Raoul!"

"Well, it's a perfectly reasonable solution!"

Christine drew Augustine into her lap, quite resolute. "I will not have you firing guns around our son!"

"But, darling, we can't just-" he protested.

"I've spoken my piece," she replied, clamping her jaw.

"But-"

"No."

"I-"

"I've spoken my piece!"

They then just sat their in as bad of moods as they ever were around each other, pouting as was their want after a fight. "Well, then what do you propose we do?"

Christine smoothed her son's hair, planting a kiss on it. "Be good Christians and just put up with it for now."

"Put up with it?" he cried, flabbergasted. "Put up with two Eriks running here and there in my garden!"

"Darling, I don't like it either, but there doesn't seem to be anything we can do. Maybe eventually they'll just leave?"

"We can only hope, my love…we can only hope…."

But would the out of character people leave? Only God, and they enormously clever author know! The reader will have to wait for the next installment, Revenge of the Angel of Music!


	3. Chapter 3

**Night of the Living Out of Character People**

**Revenge of the Angel of Music**

After five hours of being locked in the garden with his weepy counterpart, two very un-Raoul like Raouls and a slutty Christine who would not stop hitting on anything that moved, the real Erik had had enough.

"Where's your Punjab lasso when you need one?"

Shoving Smutstine off his arm for the umpteenth time that day, he finally went up to the de Chagny's back garden door and rapped on it, whimpering, "Um, can I come in now?"

Raoul said something through the door which came out a muffled mess to the trap door lover, and had to ask him to repeat. Raoul instead threw open and window and replied, "I said, 'no.'"

The Angel of Music paused, and asked, "Please?"

"Erik, you tried to kill me, my wife, and the occupants of the Paris Opera House! And don't think I've forgotten what you did to my brother! Excuse me if I'm just a tad bit annoyed at you."

"But look at them!" the Phantom of the Opera cried, pointing to the lunatics in the garden. "I'm going insane!"

"You already are insane."

"If I apologize for the whole torture chamber thing, can I come in?"

"No."

"Please?"

Raoul shut the window, and Erik sighed, settling down onto a garden bench.

"'s'all right, chap!" cried Rodney, still painfully drunk. "It's nice outside."

"I dislike outside. I'm a reclusive person."

"Reclusive! But, well, look, man, all the women are outside!" Rodney pointed out Smutstine, who was now hitting on the upset Rupert, and Erik simply stared at Rodney.

"Yeah, um, how about not?"

"Tsk, tsk," Rodney said, heaving his bottle back to his lips. "There's no accounting for taste."

"You can say that again."

…

"I said keep it down out there!"

A very annoyed Raoul slammed his garden door, storming back to his bedroom. Augustine was only barely asleep, and Christine was trying to patiently work on knitting.

"Raoul, darling, I don't think they'll listen."

"It's nearly eleven! They'll wake the neighbors!"

"There's only so many things you can throw at them, and they're still just as loud as before."

"But did you see me? I clipped the sobby Erik right on the head!"

"That's excellent, love."

Raoul crawled into bed next to his wife, rubbing at tired eyes. "I don't know if I can stand much more of this. I mean, just one Erik is one thing, but there's two of them! And there's two of me, and that…indelicately dressed female outside is-"

"Raoul, darling, stop now if you want to live to see grandchildren."

"Yes, dear."

Suddenly, at the bedroom doorway stood Augustine in his footy pajamas, clutching his teddy. "Mummy! The scary people outside are upsetting Mr. Boo," he whimpered, holding up the ratty stuffy. Christine quickly put down the knitting, rushing to her son and scooping him up, rocking him back and forth in her arms.

"There, there, little love!"

"Enough's enough, Christine," snarled Raoul, getting up. "I'm not having them wake up Augustine. God knows it takes two glasses of warm milk, four bedtimes stories, and a couple of good sound lullabies to get him unconscious in the first place."

Christine brushed a lock of limp blond hair from her eyes, sighing. The whole mess was straining on all of them. "Well…."

"Come on, love, please? I'll just get out my old naval p-"

"No! No violence! What sort of example is that for our son?"

"Umm…that his dad's a big macho guy who can take on the Phantom of the Opera?"

"We already know that, dear."

"So, um…that's still a no, isn't it?"

"It's still a no. However," she added, settling her baby boy into the bed, "if you can think of some other, more creative ways to get rid of them, that's alright by me."

"This isn't going to be like that time when I had to get the preacher to get rid of the mice in the walls because you didn't like the traps, did you?"

"A little love of God, and those things would have gone away!"

"Accept they didn't, and we had to eventually baptize them. But they still come around on Easter and Christmas." (Insert drum set sound here.)

"I don't care," Christine said, jaw firm, sapphire eyes sparkling. "I want them gone, but I don't want anybody hurt in the process."

"What about me? What if I'm hurt?"

She kissed him on the cheek. "Then I'll make up for it later."

Raoul sighed, there was no way to win against that sort of trick. "Alright, fine…I'll give it a week with the creative traps. But if they're still not gone, good example or bad example for Augustine, I am doing things my way, Christine."

"I wouldn't worry on it, dear heart. In a week, you'll have thought of something extremely clever."

Raoul climbed back into bed, rubbing his eyes. "I certainly hope so."

They turned out the light then, allowing Augustine to snuggle with them for the night.

Outside, however, was a different matter.

"Argh! Get her off! Get her off!"

"Oh, but Erik, you're so attract-"

The Phantom of the Opera had shoved Smutstine forcibly off of him, sending her colliding into Serik. "I swear," he twitched, "you sad little excuse for a ballet rat and a harlot, if you come within five feet of me with less on then you have now, I won't need a Punjab lasso to strangle you."

"'S'all right, darling," Rodney slurred, helping the perturbed girl to her feet. "I'm up for a round of strip hazard, even if he's not."

Would Erik escape any more of Smutstine's offers of undressing while playing wholesome card games? How would Rodney's hangover be in the morning? Would Rupert ever stop hyperventilating? Most important of all, how on earth was Raoul ever to get them out of there? Well, maybe you'll find out in the next exciting chapter….A New Erik!


	4. Chapter 4

**Night of the Living Out of Character People**

**A New Erik**

**A.N.: This is in honor of the fact I accidentally bought the anti-Christ last night and can't return it. I might ceremonially burn it later. If you don't know what the anti-Christ is, you're about to find out. And I'm not even exaggerating any of this stuff.**

The entire de Changy family had been outside in the front lawn, happily playing – well, Christine and Augustine were. Raoul was glaring balefully at the people in his back garden – when something utterly extraordinary happened.

At least, it would have been if it hadn't already happened once before.

It was that self same second sparkly fairy. "Hello!" she cried gaily, and all of the original, in character people glared absolute daggers at her. Unflinching, she went on happily. "I realized I made a terrible mistake yesterday!"

Raoul, Christine, and Erik scarcely dared to hope.

"I forgot one of the friends I was supposed to bring you!" The cry of anguish that followed has remained unparalleled in the whole of human history. With a tap of her wand, a third Erik appeared, bearing a strangely decorative mask, a book and a sword. "It's the Yeston Kopit Phantom!" (A.N.: And I paid _money _for it. I want to kill myself).

"Hello," he said shyly before becoming ecstatic at the sight of Smutstine waving at him.

"Who the duce are you?" demanded Raoul, flabbergasted. "Listen," he demanded of the fairy, "they're already ruining my garden. I can't have another one here!"

"Too bad!" she said, still smiling. "Because he's here to stay to love you forever and ever!"

"Oh no…" moaned Erik.

"My name's Erik," the third Phantom said. "I like poetry and picnics! And I have a sword."

Erik stared at him. "I hate swords, they're for pansies. I like my Punjab lasso."

"_I _like swords," Serik sniffed.

"Who asked you, you fruit cake?"

"Erik, mind you manners!" Christine declared. "He's a new guest."

Erik was very unrepentant, and a drunk and jealous Rodney was growling at the new arrival who was trying to flirt with Smutstine. "I don't care if he's the Queen of Sheba, he's not getting my name!"

The third addition seemed rather confused. "But it's _my _name."

"No, it's mine, and if the Leroux estate knew how ghastly you were you wouldn't even be here. No, no, you're getting re-named. Instantly."

"I want to name him!" declared little Augustine sweetly. "And I shall keep him as my pet."

Raoul put a hand on his boy's shoulder and shook his head. "I'm afraid not, son. If you're good, I'll get you a puppy for Christmas instead."

Augustine thought this over carefully. "Puppies are better," he agreed with a nod of his head.

"Well," the Yeston Kopit Phantom said, "that's hurtful." He didn't have much more time for anything else as Smutstine was trying desperately to get him flirting again.

"We shall call you…Well, Yeston Kopit, I suppose. It's the closest thing to a name you'll get."

"But my name's E-" he began to protest, but the _real, unsullied, pure _Erik was drawing out his Punjab lasso. It didn't seem worth the argument.

…

"All bets are off now, Christine," Raoul declared with yarn wrapped around his fist, sitting perfectly still as his wife knitted. "This new arrival completely changes everything. No, I'm absolutely getting my naval pistols, and I'm taking them all to the back of the house one by one, and that will be the end of it."

Christine pursed her lips and didn't give him a very hard look, but it was certainly enough to make him wither. "No you will not."

"…Whatever you say, dear."

"Good. Now-"

"Mommy," Augustine piped in, tugging with a precious manner on her sleeve.

"Yes, sugar lump?"

"My pony is lonely!"

"It is? Have daddy give it a kiss, that'll fix it up."

This clearly was not what the child was aiming for, but he dutifully had his father kiss the toy horse. "That didn't do it, he's still lonely!"

"Well," sighed Raoul. "I could always give you a kiss, would that help?"

Augustine put his forehead out and the father kissed it, but it still wasn't enough. "He wants to have a baby brother."

Raoul and Christine looked at each other. At least Augustine wasn't asking for one.

"Pray tell, my little Augustine," Christine asked, "where would we get your pony a brother?"

Augustine's blue eyes turned desirous, and Raoul sighed, giving in. "He just wants a trip to the toy shop. Alright, he's been good with all the confusion going on, I'll take him."

"That's an excellent idea, love!" praised Christine. "Maybe you can find some creative traps while you're out."

Raoul sighed and shook his head as he untangled himself from the yarn, picked up his son, and was on his way.

…

As providence would have it, Augustine's eyes also caught a model train set, but Raoul dismissed that as possibly a birthday present; they were here to keep his pony from getting lonely, after all.

"But trains are so much neater than ponies, daddy," the child protested. "Wouldn't it be fun to get on one and never stop, just to see where we'd end up?"

"Yes, Augustine, I think it-" Raoul stopped dead in his tracks, wheeling to face his boy. The wheels in his head were turning like mad, and in an instant he'd tossed his son into the air and caught him gleefully. "You beautiful, beautiful boy! You're an absolute genius! I don't know why I didn't think of it myself!"

Augustine wasn't sure what he'd done or what a genius was, but it seemed like a good opportunity anyway.

"Does this mean I can have the train set?"

Raoul did, indeed, buy him the train set. But what was he plotting? The reader will find out in the next chapter, The Phantom of the Opera Strikes Back!


End file.

Phantom of the Opera, Humor, Parody