Saw this on another website and had to share. I only wish I could take credit for it!
How the Angel of Music Got His Wings
Christine: Oh! I'm so
lonely and despondent because my lone parental unit has died, rendering
me yet another pitiable example of Victorian orphan-dom. I am going to
sit here in my dressing room scantily clad in the flickering candlelight
whilst my bosom heaves with my sobs of despair.
Erik: Hush, young woman!
Christine: *gasp* What was that? Who are you?
It is I, a conveniently disembodied, ethereal voice coming from the
general vicinity of your mirror. I noticed you are sitting in your
dressing room scantily clad in the flickering candlelight whilst your
bosom heaves with your sobs of despair. I wish to--
Christine: *gasp: Oh! It's you!
Erik: ......I beg your pardon?
Christine: Oh, I knew you'd come! I knew you would! Father promised you would!
Erik: .....Forgive me, have we met?
Well, no, not yet, but we were destined to! Father said, "When I am in
heaven child, I will send you the Angel of Music!" Well, Father is dead,
and now I am being visited by the Angel of Music!
I....ah....I am afraid you are mistaken. I am not the Angel of Music. I
am merely a severely antisocial mad genius with a perilous grip on
reality. Also, I live in the cellars here because my face makes King
Tut's mummy look like Brad Pitt.
Christine: Oh, I can't believe
that! That is far too ludicrous. What sort of loser would live in the
opera cellars? That's entirely impossible! No, no, it is far more likely
that you are a heavenly being sent by God to personally tutor a
relatively insignificant Parisian chorus girl.
Erik: I assure you, I am not an angel. In fact, I am actually just a glorified Peeping Tom.
Fooey! Angels aren't Peeping Toms! Oh, Angel, I am so excited to
finally hear you that I am going to close my thickly-lashed eyes in
reverent ecstasy and commence breathing heavily while my waterfall of
chocolate curls frames my gloriously beautiful face.
Erik: *watches Christine begin to breathe heavily while her waterfall of chocolate curls frames her gloriously beautiful face*
Tell me again, Angel! For though I know the truth, I must hear it from
your lips! Are you the Angel of Music sent from heaven under the veil of
teaching me to sing while actually subversively intending to herald my
long-suppressed sexual awakening?
Erik: *watches Christine
breathe heavily while her waterfall of chocolate curls frames her
gloriously beautiful face* *Considers that this is probably the only
chance he'll get to interact with another human being without said human
being vomiting violently at the sight of him* *Also considers that
tutoring beautiful, dumb soprano might actually lead to long-awaited
Erik: Sure, what the hell?