Andromeda's Lament

~Andromeda's Lament~

~A Reflection of "Clash of the Titans" from the diaries of legendary ladies~

I was engaged to this Greek guy, who was the son of a goddess but he was always pissing Zeus off. So he was horribly deformed as a punishment from the gods. Personally, in my opinion it was more than justified. So I called off the engagement and he put a curse on any suitors asking for my hand. Seriously he's a psycho. Again, Zeus wasn't playing around but let the bastard continue to terrorize me. That I will take issue with till the end of time. 

 

So the next thing I know, I have to take a crash course in riddle-reading, and all these bonfires, and vultures are stinking up the place! What the fuck's wrong with these people? I get dragged to the swamp to learn new riddles after ambitious men have been burned alive by failing the riddle test. It's just another typical outburst from Deformed Greek Guy. I have chosen not to attend the burnings and I've not eaten in days in protest of this barbaric ritual. Have quit all barbecue events, as well. 

 

This man shows up out of nowhere, calling himself Perseus. Asking for me, and then asks for the riddle. I tell him and he gets the right answer which includes a dismembered hand for some reason. Gross chopped hand with a ring. Ironic isn't it? I mean, a riddle about a ring from a dismembered hand so that I may give my hand in marriage whereas I will be the next one to be wearing a gifted ring? Oh well. So I accept this scruffy-looking Perseus as the man who will be betrothed to me. Fair enough. I was put off my food anyway and barbecue was out of the question.

 

Perseus tells me he's in love with me and says he saw me sleeping. Strange fellow. And the nerve of him! Who watches a person sleep for Christ sake? I suppose he's seen the vulture that hangs out on the balcony. Why couldn't he shoo it away? It just doesn't make any sense. What is he, chicken? Yeah well, a vulture versus a chicken. Not a good outcome, I guess. Anyway, the wedding day comes. As I'm standing there smiling sweetly, minding my own fucking business, the statue's head of the goddess that graces the palace's main room starts cracking and comes tumbling down almost killing all my guests. How rude! Then the head comes alive and starts spouting off all this jealous rage bullshit about my beauty being compared to hers and yak, yak, yak.

 

Suddenly the dismembered head starts saying something about me being sacrificed to the monster that lives in the sea. That's a new one. Then yaks that I'm to be unknown to man. Like a virgin? What the. . .? Shows how much the bitch knows about me, don't it? So then Perseus takes off to save me from this fate. The doom from a now headless piece of marble that sounded rather pissed off at everybody, least of all me! Perseus heads off with some new friends and myself since I wasn't about to stick around with the disembodied talking head rolling around on the temple floor. There's this goddamned golden owl flying around calling all kinds of attention to us when we're supposed to be traveling in secret, on a secret royal mission. In secrecy. I have to take over because the stupid jerks are all lost and the owl is annoying.

 

They finally find these three blind witches which will then inform Perseus on how to kill the sea monster. Then I smell something cooking, something almost like BBQ. I'm starving at this point and watching those idiots climb up a cliff and almost falling to their deaths because none of them know what they're doing. The fucking owl is only blaring away letting the witches know we are all there and ruining any chance of us doing this quiet-like.

 

Later on from what I understand, Perseus was playing around with the witches' eyeball. I'm not even going to ask. I'm bored to tears as the traveling bard, the poet dude that hangs around, keeps telling all these long stories about the gods. There's one about Medusa and how she got cursed. Good grief! What the hell is their damage already?

 

So then I'm watching the team prepare to head to the river Styx and then off to the lair of Medusa. I pretend to be asleep so I won't have to go. My plan works. Then on the way home I hoped, sincerely, in my heart that Perseus and his buddies would make it out okay. The poet dude rattled on all the way home. He's just not right in the head and now my head hurts! 

 

So the day comes when I am to be fed to the sea monster. I'm all like get this over with already. Drums are pounding, people are grieving and this is supposed to make me feel better? They chain me to the stone there and this monster jumps up and takes his fucking time milking the terror from the crowd and the awe he's supposed to invoke. He's not really scary looking but he's ugly and needs to put some clothes on. No matter, I'm about to be Greek Princess paté and served up with a touch of iron cuffs, which they put on me too goddamn tight. No chance for escape, especially in these shoes. Fucking bastards.

 

Suddenly, a flying horse with Perseus and a dismembered head full of snakes comes flying into view. Oh gods kill me now, I prayed. But to my surprise, the sea monster turned to stone due to Perseus distracting it to look at the head of what I assumed was Medusa. The owl knocked itself out, the horse dove into the sea and I was rescued. Then the owl woke up, the horse emerged and I realized Perseus was carrying me away from the stone where I was about to be lunch meat. After a few steps I made him put me down because I really need some time to catch my breath and process how this man is always bringing dismembered things around me! Hmm. And I really wonder what the hell that sea monster's problem was.

 

Later the city celebrated, the wedding (take two) went without a hitch and then we were hitched. The stars were charted by the gods and Perseus, Cassiopeia and myself got named in them. That was nice of them to do that. A list of things I got signed up for was presented to me after that. What the fuck? I didn't agree to any of this shit. Not sure I wanted to be a star constellation either. I know that somehow it'll make me look fat. Gods!

Genre: Adventure/Comedy Spoof
Rating: PG-13, language
Written: 2005

Eowyn's Lament

~Eowyn's Lament~

~A Reflection of "The Two Towers" from the diaries of legendary ladies~

Just as I had suspected, orcs had decided to run amuck all over Rohan and some of the riders got sidetracked, strangled, squished, sworded, ran off the path and de-saddled. I have been crying my eyes out over the death of King Theoden's heir cause he was a nice guy, while King Theoden kinda just sits there with an eerie glow in his eyes. What a jerk!

The next day to follow, I've been keeping close to Theoden for comfort and Eomer has been there for Rohan's people. Grima however has been creeping me out. I keep telling myself that Grima has those tears in his bloodshot eyes for the great sorrow on our lands but I'm pretty it's from me poking his eyes. He looks kinda pale and unnatural, like he's really just drunk. But what am I saying? For certain Theoden looks even worse. As a matter of fact he just looks plain dead.

I'm troubled and I look out across the lands and feel a warm breeze from the West. Then all at once I spy some newcomers riding up. I see that they brought a wizard. I'm trying to just observe when this Gandalf drives out Theoden's demon which I discover was actually Saruman! That piece of shit's gonna pay! Hello King Theoden, glad to have you back. By the way, your son has perished and you ordered some unholy, god-awful skin cream and you gotta send it back. Grima also managed to grime his mitts all over me, and we're fresh out of dairy products because all the cows are missing.

Aragorn is acting really weird. I suppose I should smile and pretend that I know why the hell he's hanging out with an elf and a dwarf. He's kinda cute. I'm a little fascinated. To a certain extent. At least Grima isn't still hanging around. I'm gonna patch up these holes in my bower walls and take a much needed hot bath.

The day of the King's son funeral arrives. I'm not speaking to anyone and I've been crying all day and feel so empty. Theoden is beside himself. Such grief upon the land, in this kingdom, at this time. Still, at least, Grima isn't hanging around. Aragorn is starting to piss me off.

A half-assed plan to head for Helm's Deep is underway and I'll be damned if wargs didn't eat some of the riders. Aragorn went over a cliffside. I'm stuck here in this cave. This is the time to really consider taking my chances in the embrace of Grima's obsessive gnarly arms and camp out at Saruman's fortress, or just hang out in this cave until the buzzards or Nazguls find a way in. . .Nah!

Theoden is still possessed, I'm sure of it! I'm wondering why he's getting all geared up. All is hopeless. No wait, Aragorn did seem to come back from the dead. He took a spill and came into Helm's Deep before this great battle we're supposed to have. Maybe if someone can fall from a cliff and survive, there's a good chance that a small number of people, backed into a cave with pitiful military means can defeat thousands of angry monster orcs and win the day? Ah what am I saying? Of course we're doomed! If the Riders and the Wizard were around it would be different. It would be believable. But they're just not here. It figures. It's so dark outside. Yeah, we're pretty screwed. So long cruel world.

Lastest entry in my diary: I could never understand what Grima saw in that long-haired freak from Isengard. Why did I get stuck with Aragorn?

~Eowyn's Lament II~
~A Reflection of "The Return of the King" from the diaries of legendary ladies~

Still a little fuzzy, can't remember when we got back to King Theoden's Hall but somehow we're all there. I'm taking notes on the fact that we all seem to be celebrating something. I hand Aragorn a strong drink in hopes he shuts up before Gimli notices and asks me where I got the booze. Legolas is being weird and drinking Gimli under the table. Then that elf starts dancing around and asking me if I will let him style my hair and then winks at me! What a weirdie.

News of Saruman's death reaches a lot of people. I can't understand why I wasn't invited to the scene. Met a couple little hairy-footed friends; Merry and Pippin. They're funny. Aragorn seems to be rather annoyed having to hunt them down for a long time and then finding them eating and smoking at the battle scene in front of Saruman's Ent-infested place. Gandalf just has problems everywhere with Pippin and there's an odd struggle over a damned crystal ball.

We head out to Gondor and I have to dress like every other guy, kidnap Merry and ride like hell to get there in time for some much needed orc-killing. Aragorn, the dwarf and the elf head onto Gondor by taking the scenic route. I seriously wonder about their sanity and their sense of direction. What the fuck?

Huge battle underway and where the friggin' hell did they get those mammoth creatures? Holy shit! And here we thought ten thousand orcs were noisy. Hmmph! Not even! Saruman really has missed out on the big picture, because this is where he needed to be, in Minas Tirith and possessing these jokers! What the hell did he ever see in our little nowhere place? The mind boggles.

Merry is almost smushed to death and I get in a few good ones on that shithead witch-king bad guy. I'm wondering if whether or not the bad guys got these Nazgul flying lizards from the Loch Ness supply. I got into an intense battle with the stupid witch-king. I stabbed his face after he made a stupid comment about my gender. What a pervert!

His head imploded. That's right IMPLODED! As in condensed itself into nothing. As if he had really been from the center of the earth where the air pressure can crush skulls. It was kinda neat how he did that. Of course, now I'm wounded. I pass out.

I awake and there's this guy just staring at me. I walk around at night looking for any kind of a map that will explain this set-up called Minas Tirith. I wonder if that's Esperanto for Many Turns. Might as well be called the Spiraling Stair Street and Wall Tilt-A-Whril. It's given me the whirly-goddamnits! No wonder that Stewart guy just flung himself off the side. He couldn't find a way out of the maze!

Still weak and I suspect that I have something wrong with my back, shoulder, hip and kneecaps. The guy who keeps staring at me is acting really weird. I wonder what he wants. I see Aragorn made it and he's crowned the king of Gondor. I know there was a volcanic eruption and I missed it. I come all this way and miss the really good stuff. That pisses me off to no end! It's fucking retarded.

Genre: Adventure/Comedy Spoof
Rating: PG-13, language
Written: 2005

Helen's Lament

~Helen's Lament~

~A Reflection of "Helen of Troy" from the diaries of legendary ladies~

As I cannot even fathom why I'm in this strange group of people who keep talking about the gods as if the statues of them being worshiped wasn't bad enough. I have had it with these freaks!

The countryside is scenic if you're not used to much, and there are servants all over the place, showing they're not used to much. I have to wear fine linens and silks but I want to climb mountains and ride across the land and have adventures, in stylish blue jeans. I usually stay away from the boring fortress. One day, I see my future love. I don't know his name but I'm getting the name of a town somewhere in France.

While minding my own damn business, Theseus comes along and kidnaps me and I'm stuck out in, gods know where, and I'm quite sure a swarm of some really nasty bugs are following us. Apparently Peirithous is a turn-coat and cut-throat. And I can see up his skirt! Eeewwww! I'm blinded for life. Get me outta here! What the hell? Wasn't I supposed to have a freakin' horse? Where's my horse?! My kingdom for. . . .ah nevermind! Zeusus Hades Ajax!

I try to tell my captors to let me go, that I'm Helen of Sparta and somehow it just doesn't impress them much. Ransom seems out of the question, since I'm not even sure what the angle is here. I suspect treachery. Or foul play.

Since I'm not dead, I'd venture to guess it's more treachery than foul play. No ransom was even brought up in discussion. I'm certainly not gonna be handing over any brass coins to buy my way out of this. Maybe some brass knuckles though.

They're twits to have the nerve to kidnap me and forget to bring my goddamn luggage. I'm gonna remember this. To top it off, I'm stuck with Theseus. Theseus has supporters, family and all.

Life seems okay at the moment. You know that Theseus isn't that bad. He's kind of decent in his own batshit way although his comrades are surely aiding and abetting a kidnapper! What a bunch of maroons! Anyway, as you can see, it's not going well for me. I'm hating it. I guess this life isn't so bad. I'd rather be sailing on the sea trying to outrun the Kraken, but whatever. I'm developing a liking for Theseus. I bring him honeycomb and flirt a bit. I must have been drugged. But he's still making some armor and acting all weird. I make the moves on him and the stupid git turns me down. Go figure. I guess he knew I was trying to steal his boat and escape.

Then when Castor and Pollux finally find me and try to rescue me, Theseus fights them, and he gets killed. Castor and Pollux also get rubbed out. I lose my potential lover and my kinsmen! This really sucks. What a bummer. Oh well.

Then after returning home, the old man is still a sour old bag. I get put on the auctioning block. How the hector did that happen? Suddenly I'm the wife of Menelaus. Paris shows up at around this time and now I'm really trying to figure out how to slide on outta here. It didn't really help matters that I was paraded like some trophy and Paris sees me at one of the most awkward of times. Paris! That's who I was thinking of. Yeah, that's my boyfriend. So I run away with Paris and leave that mess behind. Off to Troy. It's like Sparta only further North. A little dry.

Naturally a war breaks out. They've followed us. There's no sense in trying to talk any sense into anyone. The first long, dragged-out months where a thousand ships are parked on the shore with spears wagging around are tiresome but Paris and I find things to do. Hector fights and gets killed. Aw, what a pisser. That is a shame. That sucks in so many ways. Achilles fights and gets killed. Agamemnon fights and almost gets killed. Everybody fights and either gets killed or limps away. A giant horse is wheeled into Troy. All these idiots jump out and kill everyone. No matter how much we all tried to end this stupid war, Agamemnon kept getting everyone else killed. Then he gets killed FINALLY!

Menelaus seems to be more mellow than he used to be. You know, I'm still kinda baffled as to why there was all this kidnapping in the first place. I mean, what was wrong with just offering a paid vacation? I always said I liked adventure. . .what would have been wrong with just a simple "Get away and see new lands!" offer in a brochure? What was with the long-assed war?! What exactly was the point?


Genre: Greek Mythology/Comedy Spoof
Rating: PG-13, language
Written: 2005

The Phantom of the Drama

The Phantom of the Drama

Her name was Kristine Klawsus Daae. She came to the Paris Opera House and carried only a few belongings in a bag. She was looking for the Count D'Oblong, otherwise known as Raghoul. She inquired of him at the box office window, and the gatekeeper who stood nearby told her that she'd best wait inside for the new managers to arrive. The new management had just relieved Monsieur Gerard of his managing position. The new managers being Monsieur Dewit Nitwit and his aspiring opera singing wife Bridget Carlotta.

Carlotta had sent a new worker down into the catacombs because she wanted to know what the opera house held, in way of hidden treasure, that she may also grab possession of. Naturally the worker did not return, for he had run into. . .the Phantom! A legendary opera ghost who stalked the opera house and was feared because of the rumor that his face was a sight of horror. His name was Edrik Drisseloin.

And now the tale of "The Phantom of the Drama"

Kristine had sung such sweet little melodies when she was a child. And in the firelight of many gatherings of her fellow servants, they'd sing all these songs - in French. They were from a small farm town outside of Paris. This would explain why.

When Gerard heard Kristine singing at a country fair he invited her to Paris for singing lessons because he thought she should really do well in opera because of the beauty and strength of her singing voice. But she really didn't want to leave the countryside and the firelight of an outdoor gathering because it always made her feel good. But Gerard insisted and she really didn't want to keep mopping floors for the rest of her life.

Gerard, of course, would travel with Count D'Oblong as a talent scouting team. They worked on keeping the Paris Opera House a success through finding fresh talent. One of the main reasons why it went so smoothly over the years was because of the Phantom. He would send notes and talk through the walls to them and if they obeyed his orders, they were not cursed and nobody ended up downstream from underneath the catacombs, which is where the Phantom lived, but apparently where everyone else who crossed him would die.

Upon Kristine's arrival to Paris she found that Gerard had been relieved of his job. The promising singing career of Kristine sank as she sat at the opera house quietly distraught. But after a while
the gatekeeper came up to her from his post. "Maybe the new managers will help you, but I can't promise you anything." he said.

So Kristine waited inside the foyer outside the manager's office. The new director had already signed up Carlotta as the Diva and gave her all the power over who would be singing in any of the operas they'd premiere. Of course that meant that Carlotta was going to be doing all of the operas and all of the singing. Except for the leading male roles and whatever mute cast she could find.

Monsieur Dewit had power over the director André and therefore Carlotta would be an overnight success. In her and Dewit's delusional minds, anyway. The Phantom, who was spying out Carlotta, was not happy with any of these arrangements at all. Notes began to fall from the walls and Gerard would give Monsieur Dewit the notes. Dewit was angry, wrathful, and broke out in hives upon each disturbing note. Gerard kept a straight face throughout each of the Phantom's notes. It was hilarious.

Gerard told Monsieur Dewit to not go down below. That the opera house is indeed haunted by an opera ghost. "If this is a joke, it isn't funny." Monsieur Dewit snapped at Gerard. "I assure you, it is not a joke." Gerard then went on. "The ghost has been here as long as I have. He moves everywhere, he moves through doors, he moves through walls. Sometimes it can be frightening. But we obeyed his rules, and all went well."

A heavy picture that hung on the wall came crashing down and startled the new manager. Without missing a beat, Gerard continued. "Rumor has it he lives far below the opera house," Gerard said without flinching. "on the edge of a lagoon. During the days of the Paris Commune there were torture chambers down there. That's his territory. That's his domain. That's where he lives, and anyone who goes down there, does not return. He calls himself the Phantom of the Drama."
"The Drama?" Dewit asked.
"Well, you know, he lives in a place that was formerly a torture chamber. It's gotta be the vibe of the decor or something like that." Monsieur Dewit scooted off and mumbled something obscene and something about not believing in ghosts.

Gerard shook his head as he watched the poor chump run off all blustered. The phantom's voice spoke quietly through the walls to Gerard, who was now left alone in one of the foyers.

"What is going on?" the Phantom asked. A secret panel in the wall opened and Gerard went in to tell the Phantom everything. Gerard was now deep within the winding tomb-like corridors of the opera house. He spoke with the Phantom about the new situation.

"If I had let that stagehand go, he'd have gone right back up. And they'd be down after me in a second. He found out where I live." The Phantom paced as he spoke. Gerard had practically given a map and directions to the Phantom's living quarters to Dewit earlier, but whatever.
"And he saw my face! Why did you let him go down there?"
"I didn't know he was going down." Gerard said, knowing that the worker Carlotta had sent down was probably hanging from some rafter over the stage, stiff dead and messy.
"But that's your job to know who's sneaking about!" The Phantom said as if shocked at Gerard's blatant disregard to his job.
"I have no job. I've been replaced."
"Replaced?"
"That's why all this happened. I only learned about it today."
"What am I going to do?" The Phantom asked Gerard as if he could think of something better than just killing everybody. Just then the rafters creaked in the distances above them as if to bemoan any further use of hanging bodies.

"I don't know." Gerard answered, realizing killing everyone at this point would be somewhat messier than just running away from the opera house, screaming into the night.

"This man who's replacing you - does he, per chance, believe in ghosts?" The Phantom tried to be dramatic as he flung his cloak and turned on a dime to seem menacing in the dim candlelight.
"I don't think so." Gerard answered.
"I will have to make him believe!"
"That may not be so easy."
"If I can't, they will all be down after me, just as I feared."
"Maybe not."
"Of course they will. They'll come looking for. . ."
"They don't know he's dead." Gerard interrupted.
"They'll certainly know he's missing."
"But I think I can take care of that."
"How?"
"You just leave that to me."
"Why it's all changed now, hasn't it?"
"At best I had a few more years. You must have known that Edrik!"
"I had rather hoped that you might be able to choose your successor."
"So had I. But I couldn't find anyone who wouldn't piss themselves talking to ghosts in the walls."
Silence seemed to engulf them. Suddenly a shrill soprano's voice was heard, warming up.
"My God! The place really is haunted! What is that?" The Phantom looked around in a grimace of torment fading to a smirking disgust.
"Well without looking, I would say it must be Carlotta." Gerard said.
"Who?"
"A member of the new company. The new star."
"But she can't sing!"
"Well obviously she doesn't know that."
"Well, someone should tell her!"
"She's married to the new manager."
"Good God! What kind of horror are you leaving me in?"
The Phantom rolled his eyes that seemed to bulge out of his mask with dread and tearing bloodshot spasms. "Not only does this man not believe in ghosts; he has no taste! How did he get this position?"
"Bribery." Gerard shrugged. "I gather Carlotta intends to run everything."
"That settles it! I'm coming with you! Ah, but I can't, can I? Sometimes I forget that I am fit for nowhere but these gloomy vaults. Bereaved of light." The Phantom continued as he walked away back to his dungeon abode with a very dramatic description of himself. "Like blackness itself. For I am blackness itself, aren't I? Where are my golden tents? Where are my lambs rejoicing? Where the hell are those stairs?!! AAAAHH!!!"

Gerard wrote a note for Carlotta and stamped it. It was a good way to divert her and the new manager's attention long enough to check the stage and surroundings to make sure the Phantom had gotten rid of the body.

"Take this to Madame Carlotta." Gerard handed a note to Jean-Claude the gatekeeper. He gave it a peek because gatekeepers are nosy. He looked astonished as he read what it stated. It said: I don't like the working conditions. As I may already be dead, don't come looking for me. Ever. I am through with this place! You go down below and snoop around. My eyes have already been gouged out.

Jean-Claude handed the note to Carlotta and backed away and left her to read it alone. Dewit walked up and glanced at Kristine as she stood waiting for the management to show up. "She was sent by the Count D'Oblong." Jean-Claude inserted as Dewit walked up to Kristine. "He heard me singing at a fair and thought I had talent." Kristine said looking around and thinking that all of this was a very bad idea. "Count D'Oblong is one of our biggest patrons." Dewit said, as he looked suspiciously at her.

Suddenly Carlotta storms into the place with Gerard's note in her hand. Dewit stopped her midway to her suite and smiled. "Darling? This lovely young girl would like some singing lessons. What can we do?" "Nothing." Carlotta snapped. "You think this girl can sing?" Carlotta chuckled audibly. "Look how she stands. Look at what she's wearing! Where did you grow up - on a farm?" Kristine gave an expression of slight calm mingled with the focus of someone who positions themselves right before taking their opponent's head off with a stainless steel blade. "Sort of. Madame." She answered.

"The world of opera has nothing to do with farm life!" Carlotta retorted. "Why are you asking me this?" "Because she has a patron who is rich and powerful." Dewit said with tension under his breath. Carlotta turned back to Kristine. "Ah. There's only one way to learn to sing. Observe singers! My dear, I am going to let you work for me in the costume department. She has just replaced what's his name as my costumer." Carlotta thrust the note into Dewit's face. "He sent me this note. Doesn't like the working conditions! Can you believe it? After all I've done for that man! Good riddance is what I say!" Carlotta stormed off.

"Where are you staying?" Jean-Claude asked Kristine. "No place. I have no money." Kristine informed him meekly.
"I'm not supposed to do this. You mustn't tell anyone." They went into a corridor and entered off the prop room which lead to a small room with a cot. "You can stay here till you can afford something else. But! At night, do not wander around the opera house. It's for your own protection. This place is huge. You can get lost. Goodnight." Jean-Claude said as he left. "This is like a dream come true. In a dismal, dungeonous kind of way." Kristine smiled with a hint of not really smiling. She had heard of the legendary opera ghost. Rumors of his existence. Tales of the opera being haunted. Still she couldn't bring herself to feel anything but highly annoyed.

After Kristine put her things down, and threw a blanket on the cot she naturally began to wander around. She eventually found the stage. It was big, dark and eerily silent. She began to sing.

Here I am to summon an Opera Ghost,
out from the catacombs.
Lurking like a dungeon host.
I got dragged into this by Count Oblong
Don't wanna know why
Di di do, di di oh die!

The Phantom heard the distant sound of a woman singing and rushed up a stair case. From Box Five the Phantom watched Kristine singing onstage, as she just made up lyrics and sort of danced a little as she sang. Then she found a prop of a sword and killed the prop of a knight that stood nearby. It fell like a clankering pile of metal in an echo chamber. It made a horrible racket and both Kristine and the Phantom ran clean out of that area of the building and hid in their respective hiding holes.

The next day Kristine went about her new job as costumer and slave. "What shall I do?" Kristine asked her co-worker. "Sometimes they lay their costumes here, sometimes over there. Their names are sewn in the back. You'll pick up the costumes carefully and put them in this cart. Costumes are like people. You must handle them carefully." the co-worker told her.

The day was full of rehearsals for the upcoming opera of Faust. Carlotta was to be the lead as Marguerite and also the lead in another upcoming opera, Norma. Kristine went about her work as the Phantom watched her all day from various vantage points. Kristine was still trying not to be pissed off about being a costumer when she was sent to sing. She figured it wasn't even worth it, and thought of escaping. She still tried to understand Carlotta's logic about singing in general but in the end she knew that Carlotta was destined to be a laughing stock. Still, Kristine was a little self-conscious about what she was wearing but figured that people sometimes dressed like human versions of potato sacks.

The lights began to go out around the opera house and Kristine was left alone on the stage once more as she gathered costumes. The Phantom hid in the orchestra pit as he watched her. She was suddenly aware of his presence and she was startled. "Holy shit! What a scare! I thought you were Lon Chaney in the orchestra pit!" Kristine yelped. "Please don't be afraid. I'm a friend. As well as an admirer." The Phantom spoke gently to her. Kristine moved toward him to see him. "No, please. I would appreciate it greatly if you were to stay exactly where you are." Kristine stood still. The Phantom continued. "Mademoiselle, last night I heard you singing. I know, you thought you were alone. But you were not. You have the most astonishing voice. It is like an angel, exquisite in tone and shape, in fact in almost every single detail." Seriously? Kristine thought.

"Shape? What's with the shape? I can understand tone, but shape? Don't you mean texture? I mean, what's my voice shaped like? A triangle, a square, a polyheptagon?" Kristine asked. The Phantom paused for a moment, trying to understand what Kristine had asked. His mind went blank for a moment before he continued. "Except, but forgive me, it is untrained. Without training, your voice will never attain the heights for which I know it's been destined. I would like to help bring you there. And I can. I am myself a singer of some renown. There is a condition. I've never taken on any students. For until last night, I have never wanted to. If others hear I am giving lessons, they will want them too. Therefore, if you choose to let me be your guide, I must insist that I remain anonymous. Which is why I'm wearing this mask. Please, there's no need for an answer now. Good night."
As the Phantom disappeared, Kristine was already asleep curled up in the costume cart.

Next morning Kristine hummed merrily as she arranged costumes. She had gotten used to going about her chores without paying any attention to the usual prattle around the place. She secretly kept her ever-growing desire to strangle Carlotta well hidden, but she knew she would break eventually and just do something.

As Kristine went through the corridor Jean-Claude hurried toward her. "Kristine! I've found you a place to stay! But far away with a family, and it won't cost you anything!" Kristine kept walking. "Thank you. But I'm really very happy with my room." When Kristine got far enough down the corridor she secretly wanted to scream back that she wanted to stay with some family for free, that lived far away, but she knew she just couldn't. Getting even with Carlotta and now this guy offering lessons was a mission at this point. "But I'm not supposed to let people stay here!" Jean-Claude called after her. The opera ghost was heard through the walls once again and Jean-Claude almost pissed himself. The Phantom's voice was a deep, meaningful echo. "Jean-Claude. . ." The voice called.
"What?" Said Jean-Claude frightened. "Let her stay. Please? As a kindness to me." The Phantom pleaded.

A few weeks had passed and the opera house presented the opening of Norma, ready to premiere during the season.

As the Phantom had rigged Carlotta's wig with itching powder, Kristine hid behind the scenes to rig the crescent moon prop that Carlotta would be holding. Kristine had placed a small amount of glue onto the edges of it in various places and would hold it carefully by the unglued surface when handing it to Carlotta before she went on. As Carlotta readied herself in her dressing room, the Phantom's timing was just in the nick of itself, when Carlotta had noticed her wig missing. In a panic she looked for it high and low. The Phantom slid the panel in the wall quickly as he managed to put the rigged-wig back without her noticing any movement. Carlotta thought she had overlooked it, breathed a sigh of relief and quickly put it on.

"Five minutes!" A voice called from outside her door. With stagehands now putting the last touches to Carlotta's costume, Kristine stood ready to hand Carlotta her moon prop. Carlotta took it and proceeded to the stage. She sang very badly.

See ditzy oh see porche,
dee oh tento burrito dorito,
Por kee bring me dee oranges
tea drink and a pristine Norma

As she sang, her wig had begun to itch so badly that Carlotta used the moon prop to scratch at her wig. After about five minutes she had given up trying to do it in a subtle way. Then she tried to toss away the prop she held but it stuck to her hand as she grabbed at another prop with her free hand to scratch at her wig but it slipped out of her hand due to the oil smeared all over it. As the audience had, by this time, given in to hysterical laughter, she tore her wig off and that too stuck to her hand as the glue got everywhere.

Carlotta's debut was a disaster. The Phantom and Kristine, although hidden back in the shadows, laughed and giggled in fits of delight and mischief.

Later that night the Phantom came to fetch Kristine for her singing lessons. While Kristine lit some candles the Phantom spoke to her through an opening in a wall. "Kristine?" he said. She looked in his direction. "Yes, Maestro?"
"You ready for our next lesson?"
"Yes." Then Kristine paused for a moment to study the Phantom's masked expression when he stood at the piano. "Did you see what happened to Carlotta?" Kristine asked innocently.
"No. What?" he replied nonchalant. "Her debut was a disaster!" Kristine was trying to sound sympathetic, but managed to look a little deviously apathetic instead. She turned to the Phantom and asked if he heard anything of Carlotta's debut. "I may have seen some of the show, I don't really attend too many shows during the first part of the opera season, I tend to wait for a time." He said while keeping his eyes fixed on Kristine.

Kristine grabbed the Phantom by the ruffles on his shirt and gently drew him close to her. "Look, I don't care what opera you attend or not, I want in on the revenge too. If it weren't for Carlotta, I'd be doing what I was sent here for and we wouldn't have to sneak around these dark catacombs like opera mice in some large maze with like, real rodents!"
The Phantom held Kristine's shoulders tightly trying not to give the impression that he was actually pleased that she could play the practical joke very well. "I knew that there was more afoot than my wig trick on Carlotta! But you, Kristine, I'd have never thunk that you were behind any sabotage of Carlotta's debut!"

Kristine pulled away then sat down at the piano where the Phantom joined her before carrying on with the singing lessons.
"Look, Kristine, I know how you feel but let me deal with Carlotta. Just sing. It's all I ask."
"You can't stop me from the only purpose for which I was destined - and that is, to see how many ways there exists to ruin a diva's career. Or blow up the whole damned place."

The Phantom gently laughed at what he thought was a joke, Kristine smiled quietly. They continued on with the singing lessons putting aside the subject of Carlotta for the time being. They filled the room with his flawless piano playing and her soaring voice. A moment of what could be, while there were so many unresolved issues.

The opening night of La Traviata was underway as Carlotta prepared herself backstage. She had people fussing over her and placing jewelry on her wrists, fingers and ears.

The orchestra began to play the overture. Kristine stayed away from everyone else as she positioned a sling shot and tried to pick off a few glasses from a tray that a stand-in held aloft. But as he kept moving, she kept missing and only managed to knock the head-dress off one of the chorus girls. When the tenor was finished singing his part, Carlotta began singing and took the glasses of wine to the other male singers on stage as the stand-in waited close by with the tray. Just as she picked up the last glass of wine to toast everyone as she sang her lines, the glass stayed firmly attached to the tray. The audience roared with laughter, Carlotta looked horrified and Kristine knew the Phantom had glued Carlotta's glass to the tray. Kristine was a little peeved that the Phantom was stealing her best ideas.

The Opera House was a riot with people in hysterical guffawing as Carlotta stormed off the stage. Later that night the Phantom and Kristine were in their private nook with the singing lessons routine.

"That was wonderful! Again from the top!" The Phantom said. Kristine fell silent and looked away.
"What is it?" He asked concerned. Kristine looked back at the Phantom and spoke low. "I know that you wear a mask because of your deformity, and I'm a costume girl because I'll never be in high society, and, somehow this whole dream we're holding onto isn't going to be a very promising one."

"Just be patient Kristine, our dream will come true." The Phantom reassured her. Kristine just shook her head. "The London Opera is probably where we'll end up, or maybe Vienna. . ." Kristine said with a faraway look in her eyes. "What's on your mind, Kristine? You can tell me, I'm your friend."
"Raghoul stopped by here today and asked me and all the girls to go to the bistro. To sing, you know?"
"Well, this is the opportunity we've been looking for!" the Phantom said with gallant hope. "I really wish you'd let me in on the stunts." Kristine suddenly put in.
"Now, now, Kristine, I can handle Carlotta very well without getting you involved." The Phantom said firmly. "Pfft! Please, you would be fresh out of ideas if it weren't for me helping you out." Kristine retorted. The Phantom looked intensely at Kristine. Finally they sighed and bid each other a goodnight.

That next evening, the company went to the bistro to sing and party. Eventually Kristine's turn came to sing and after Dewit and his underlings heard her singing 'Russia Is A Cold Red Herring' otherwise known as 'The Strawman Song', she managed to land the upcoming part of Marguerite in Faust.

Carlotta had tried to stop any show from going on, and stormed out of the bistro. As the hours drew on Kristine became bored after several dozen beer-drinking songs and one too many Can Can dances. She headed off back to the opera house before anyone could see her. Raghoul had followed her. Stopping her, he asked if she needed a ride back to her place. She spoke with a somewhat dry, matter-of-fact tone telling him that by night she has to return to her coffin and that it's really not a good idea to follow anyone into a graveyard. Kristine managed to sneak back into the opera house while Raghoul slunkered off half drunk and terribly confused.

The Phantom haunted into Kristine's chamber and asked her what had happened at the bistro.
"Well, you see, it's like this. . .I got the lead in Faust." Kristine said.
"Why, that's wonderful news!" The Phantom exclaimed trying to savor the moment. "We certainly have a lot of work ahead of us."

They slinked off into a deeper part of the opera house so that she and the Phantom could rehearse. They wasted no time pouring over the story of Faust and all the words, notes and acting that would need polishing.

While taking a five minute break, Kristine snooped about. She had noticed a whole lot of tiny barrels of TNT. Her eyes sparkled, her heart felt a surge of excitement and a new-found hope. Kristine was definitely cheering up. The Phantom thought he had hid those barrels well enough but the hollowed out Trojan Horse that lay belly up, sprouting with the barrels of TNT was just a little obvious for anyone who would have been brave enough to venture far enough down into the catacombs.

Kristine and the Phantom practiced the libretto, but Kristine kept looking over at the bounty of TNT. After taking another five minute break, Kristine drank some cold water and tossed something over towards the barrels.

"You know I was thinking. . ." She said as she pointed to the barrels. "that we could use these."
"That is not for you to use or even mess around with. Come, back to Act Two and Marguerite with Dame Martha about the riches she's just received!"
"I just need one barrel and I promise, it'll be safe and sound in my chamber!" Kristine said.
"I'll give you anything but, those barrels are dangerous, they aren't to be fooled around with."
"I know about the properties of TNT, I'm not oblivious of the energy produced by an explosion of 25 lbs. of TNT. Or better yet, say, 450 lbs.? Looks about right. Judging from the size of that pile. All I need are just three barrels from this huge collection and I'll sing any opera, on any stage in the world you want!" Kristine said smiling as the Phantom looked at her with confusion, bewilderment and a little bit of admiration.
"I'll think about it, for yours is the voice of an angel and I'd dearly love to see this opera achieve the acclaim it so deserves." The Phantom commented with a warm voice and a look of longing in his eyes.
"Yes, yes. Good good." Kristine agreed. "That's all settled then. I'm so very glad. So when we're finished here, I'll not trouble you any further on the matter and take only the ten barrels of TNT and hide them in my chamber for safe keeping, just in case. I should probably hide them out in my chambers anyway, because nobody ever goes in there."
"Yes." The Phantom said, sighing.

The opening night of Faust was upon them, and Kristine readied herself for the starring role. Carlotta had, of course, plotted against Kristine. A hired man would bump into Kristine on stage at the opportune time and send the whole thing into chaos as Carlotta had planned. Carlotta entered Kristine's dressing room and smiled.

"Darling! There you are, I have brought you a present." Carlotta merrily said as she handed Kristine a very keen pair of roller skates.

"Oh my! These are fabulous!" Kristine then looked suspiciously at Carlotta. "But, what's with the roller skates tonight? Couldn't you have waited until next weekend when the company goes off to Xanadu?"

"Oh no, darling, I brought these for your great performance tonight! The costume you'll be wearing has not been taken up in the hem and you'll need the height, and no one will see the skates as your dress will be much too long for that!" Carlotta's eyes gleamed as she smiled at Kristine.

"Oh, alright, I guess so." Kristine put on the roller skates that Carlotta gave her. After the orchestra began the overture and the cast took their places, Kristine rolled onto the stage behind the curtain and took her place. The curtain went up and everyone began to dance and Faust began proper. Just as Kristine sang the first part of her intro, the man whom Carlotta hired to sabotage the show, came half-waltzing, half-running into Kristine. Naturally, being on roller skates, she rolled across the stage and off behind it into a pulley that held down some two dozen ropes. This caused a chain reaction in which the large chandelier that hung over a good section of the audience, who were pissing themselves laughing, began to shake and eventually fall down.

Amid the chaos, the Phantom who was watching from Box Five, scurried after Kristine and grabbed her, picked her up and carried her into the catacombs, where she would be safe. They were both in a state of shock but Kristine told the Phantom it would be okay to let her stand on her own feet. When the Phantom gently put her down, she rolled all the way down a smoothed-out ramp that spiraled into one of the deeper sections of the catacombs. The Phantom rushed down after her. She half screamed and half laughed as she rolled backwards. Finally she landed in a pile of hay next to a chariot prop. As she lay laughing the Phantom knelt down to see if she was alright. "What a rush!" she said, then fainted.

The Phantom lay Kristine down in a bed that was hidden in a makeshift cottage that was built into the walls of one of the even deeper sections of the catacombs. She slept peacefully as he sang a lullaby to her and removed the cursed roller skates.

The next morning, after the Phantom had watched over Kristine, he was nowhere to be found when she awoke. She sprang up out of bed and went looking for the Trojan Horse. Upon looking around, she spied a portrait of a young woman. Next to it hung upside-down, a severed doll's head with slash marks all over its face and a fork stabbed through its head. Kristine shrugged and figured whoever the woman was, he must have really loved her.

The Phantom loomed behind Kristine as she wandered about. Finally he spoke, startling her. "Holy Catacombs! This batcave is filled with phantoms!" Kristine remarked letting out a cry.
"I am so sorry for startling you, please forgive me." The Phantom's voice smooth and warm, assured Kristine that everything was alright. Kristine blew a swirl of hair away from her face.

"Are you hungry? Let's go on a picnic." He suggested as he grabbed a picnic basket. They were off to some hidden forest that ran off the bottom into an opening that cast some sunlight into a quaint foyeresque wilderness. Kristine and the Phantom ate silently, with solemn expression. He was falling in love with her. She was loving all the tranquil surroundings. But there were still things that needed to be done.

"We gotta rig that TNT." Kristine said finally. "You leave that to me." The Phantom insisted.
"Look we already know our careers are over, no one will ever buy tickets again. The chandelier's a little loose, ya know." Kristine insisted back. Her curiosity of what the Phantom looked like also came to mind.

"May I see your face?" She asked.
"No."
"Why not? Here we go!" Kristine said as she snatched his mask away and looked upon his face. She studied his features and said finally, "You know they have some great skin graphs these days and surgery is almost a same-day process. They've been doing wonderful things with novocaine lately, too."

Then Kristine gently placed his mask back on his face, then snatched it back aside then put it back on, then took it back away from his face again. "Mask, face, mask, face, mask. . ."

The Phantom took his mask and tied it back to his face and head. "You're teasing me." He said. "These masks are made out of newspapers and gloss, very delicate."

Raghoul looked for Kristine all over the opera house in desperation and then found her chamber but she was not there. From far below in the catacombs, Kristine sensed this and began to run up through the darkness. The Phantom grabbed her arm and forced her in a little cage-like structure and locked it. Suddenly things were falling apart and the Phantom needed to gain control of the situation.

"What are you doing, you stupid freak?!" Kristine asked.

"No one who sees my face is allowed to leave here! I thought everybody knew that!" The Phantom blurted out as he ran back up through the stairways that would lead to Kristine's nook.

"Oh GREAT!" Kristine shook the bars and then let go slowly. "Well, I didn't know that." she whispered to herself. "Looking at the Phantom's face equals not leaving the catacombs and other strange and bizarre rules of this stupid opera house!" Kristine snapped at the cage bars.

Raghoul searched for Kristine but the Phantom found him first. They fought. Raghoul managed to get away and hide in a costume closet. The Phantom rushed to Kristine's little nook and uncovered about twenty-nine barrels of TNT under Kristine's bed, some in corners and, some in plain sight posing as little tables with lace and silk over them in an attempt to disguise them from anyone else finding them. Raghoul slipped into a cape and mask and ventured back out to face the Phantom, but he'd thought he'd tell him that he was the police incognito in case he did run into the Phantom.

Kristine had managed to pick the lock and escaped and headed back to her chamber. Then suddenly turning around, headed right for the remainder of TNT barrels in the Trojan Horse. As she rigged some fuses up to them she hurried back through the cottage of the Phantom's abode and quickly dressed in a black cloak and put on one of his masks. Then striking a match she lit a fuse that led to a master fuse she connected to all the barrels. She estimated that she had about ten minutes and forty seconds before the blast.

Meanwhile the Phantom had removed the barrels from Kristine's chamber up to Carlotta's suite and rigged them with fuses, lit them and ran. Again, stealing Kristine's idea.

Kristine was running back up through the opera house, as Raghoul was trying to run out of the opera house, as the Phantom was running away from anyone in the opera house.

Raghoul, Kristine and the Phantom all bumped into one another on the main floor and screamed "The Phantom!" Even the Phantom screamed "The Phantom!"

As they scurried to escape the opera house there came a tremendous explosion and they somehow ended up on the roof. After the smoke and debris settled a bit, they knew they were now on a very weak structure of what was once the Paris Opera House. They all began to laugh and fall back, giving in to whatever fate would befall them. And rumor has it that they can still be heard in the opera house, which was rebuilt, echoing with song, laughter, and tears. And even the more unsettling sound of ticking, like a clock.

THE END

Written: February 23 - March 3, 2004

Based on the 1990 TV Mini Series of The Phantom of the Opera