Christine/Erik

If Erik Had Narcolepsy- Part 3

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber and Gaston Leroux...but the idea of Erik with narcolepsy is an adorable but kinda sad and kinda weird idea belonging to me.

A.N: I'm baaaaack! By the way, I know sometimes it's kind of weird to see Christine be this really practical and simpleminded girl sometimes and a quite (hilariously) emotionally volatile teenager other times. But I just write them out as whatever seems funniest. This is a parody, after all. So, no comments on this.

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Christine ran, sobbing, to her dressing room, where she flung herself theatrically onto her chaise longue and proceeded to sit there for the next two hours, muttering words that sounded suspiciously like 'fop', 'idiot' and 'merde' and throwing hissy fits and tantrums like the spoiled diva- I MEAN, beautiful and talented singer that she was. After a while, a voice floated through the dressing room mirror. "Come to me, angel of music...." Christine sighed.

"Erik."

"Yeah?"

"Not in the mood right now."

"Alright....

DUNNNNN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUNNNNN!"

"ERIK!"

"Sorry, sorry! Seriously, they're all so touchy these days-"

"THEY'RE ALL!?!?"

Christine got up indignantly and proceeded to stalk over to the mirror, pointing her finger accusingly at it while yelling at the Phantom angrily about 'leading her on' and 'lack of commitment', while the poor man tried to point out that he and Christine had never been in a relationship in the first place. "And guess whose fault that is," he tried to snap over Christine's screaming. Indeed, had the door been open at that moment, the eardrums of any passers by would have been quite severely ruptured by Christine's cries of anger, and put together with Erik's protests, the result would have been deafening. Literally.

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Eventually, Christine ran out of things to complain about regarding Erik and Raoul and began to complain about other things.
"The world does not appreciate a good, sweet, simple opera singer. No, they have to go for the gaudy, flamboyant, ridiculous ones, like La Carlotta!" she fumed.
Erik sensed that it would be better to let Christine rant for a few minutes before replying, so he entered her room, plopped down elegantly (if that's even possible) onto an oak chair, and unwrapped a packet of bubblegum.
Meanwhile, Christine continued:
"I mean, why can't they, like, just dump her already? She's way past her prime as both a singer and a woman, and-"
POP!
Christine swiveled around to face a sheepishly grinning Erik. He waved his hand for her to carry on.
"-and she's a waste of good money, with all her jewelry and expensive perfumes and fat little mongrels-"
POP!
"Shut up, Erik."
"Of course, mon amour."
Christine tossed some of her glossy brown curls over one shoulder. They gleamed in the candlelight, and for a moment Erik abandoned all thoughts of bubblegum to think admiringly of his beloved. Oh, how he'd like to take her in his arms right now...
"Anyway," Christine resumed, "as I was saying. Carlotta, I think, should be got rid of. She's nothing but trouble personified, draped in minks and diamonds!"
POP!
"Thank you for not interrupting me before I finished my sentence this time," Christine said drily to Erik, who nodded gracefully in reply. Christine continued:
"You know what would really fix the Carlotta problem?"
Erik shrugged and said, licking the stickiness off his teeth, "Putting her in another opera house?"
"Yes, that's it!" Christine cried, jumping up and down. Her eyes shone with excitement and a maniacal giggle escaped her blood-red lips. "That's it!" she repeated, and Erik smiled, glad to be of use.
"Oh, the managers will be so pleased!" Christine squealed. "And when they know it's MY idea, they'll promote me to- to Prima Donna!" Erik frowned. Wait. Her idea?
"Well, um, Christine," he began, but Christine cut him short. "And then I'll be the one dripping in pearls and diamonds, and having a thousand suitors competing for my hand, and OH! maybe a puppy, or two, or three!"

"Christine, actually it was sort of my-"

"And red roses from the finest gardens in the countryside, and a luxurious mansion in the poshest area of town, and cushions made from velvet! Oh, what a wonderful life awaits me! Oh, but Erik, will she go willingly?" Anxious chocolate-brown eyes stared into amber. Erik's heart nearly melted.

"Sure she will." I'll make her, he added mentally.

And make her he would.