Seen Love Never Dies, yet? It's made a big stink in the phandom, what with people hating on it and people loving it to pieces, but either way, it's more food for parody writers. Again, I can't take credit for this.
Devil Take the Hindmost : Cliff Notes Version
Raoul: If you
think you're going to force my trophy wife into another creepy tryst
with you, then you've got another thing coming, buddy.
Erik: Your wife is an airhead and so I may manipulate her however I please. Also, you are drunk.
Raoul: Yeah? Well, you're ugly.
Erik: You're broke.
Raoul: You're REALLY ugly.
Erik: You have no testicles.
Raoul: Every time I look at you, I throw up in my mouth a little.
Yes, but YOU are broke. I on the other hand, am conveniently and
mysteriously wealthy despite the fact that a masked criminal showcasing
his madness in such a flamboyantly French way would, under any other
circumstances, attract the attention of the NYPD, who would, in turn,
seize his assets and toss him in the loony bin. But alas, I am wealthy,
and you are not. This puts me in a convenient position to further this
turd of a plot by making a bet with you that could potentially resolve
Raoul: Hmm...well, I do like making bets. Because I have no testicles.
Here goes: How about we both diminish the emotional profundity of one
of the greatest love stories ever told by using your wife as a
bargaining chip in order to determine who gets prime Christine-banging
privileges? If I lose, I will pay your debts. If I win, my
Christine-banging privileges will commence immediately.
Raoul: Psh, eff that, man, I've already got prime Christine-banging privileges. We've got a KID. So I pretty much win already.
Erik: Yeah, no. No, you don't. Because I did the diddly with her first.
Raoul: What's that supposed to mean?
Erik: It means the Music of the Night was a little more musical than you thought.
Let's just think about this for a moment: Your son is intelligent. You
cannot tell a rock from a turtle. Your son is a musical prodigy. You
carry a tune as well as Ke$ha during Mardi Gras. Your son is
persistently creepy not unlike a certain freakish yet inexplicably
alluring misanthrope who may or may not be standing in front of you at
this very moment. You, on the other hand, are about as alluring as
Raoul: What the hell are you TALKING about?
Erik: The kid's mine.
Raoul: Is not!
Erik: Is, too.
Raoul: Is not!
Erik: Is, too.
Fine! Rather than acknowledge the painfully obvious fact that the fruit
of Christine's loins is actually your ten-year-old possibly homosexual
doppelganger, I'm going to take your bet and once again reduce Christine
to the status of a bauble.
Erik: And I will reduce my legendary, redeeming love for Christine to nothing but raw, funky libido. Of which you know nothing.
Because you have no testicles.
Written by muirin007 on tumblr
P.S. I should be getting up a review for His Dark Materials sometime soon, if the powers that be will allow it. Cross your fingers!