Curiouser and Curiouser...

Recently I've had two rather extraordinary experiences. That is to say, experiences that are more extraordinary than the ones that already occur in this Opera House. Incidentally, Carlotta still has not yet thought that I might be the one to blame for her embarassing display of Public Itching last month. It is rather satisfying to know that one can be above suspicion in such situations, though the diva's sulking and abusive treatment of the girls has recently been getting out of hand again. Perhaps I should chance another subtle act of ... discipline.

Anyhow, returning to the matter at hand. Imagine my surprise when I entered my office one day to find a sack of garments for dry-cleaning from our Resident Ghost. Well, that in and of itself is not so extraordinary, but what did make me drop my cane in shock was the fact that when I opened the bag I was greeted by Erik's clothes - all dyed bright PINK! Even the black-edged note that accompanied the parcel with instructions to have the clothing cleaned posthaste was smudged with carnation pink fingerprints. I can only imagine that perhaps one of the man's insane chemistry experiments backfired on him with such spectacular results. I do hope that for the drycleaner's sake, he will be able to expunge these blemishes from Erik's much-beloved dress clothes.

As to the other incident, as if it weren't bad enough that blonde-haired imposter with an awful faux French accent and a laughably puny excuse for a dancemistress' cane appeared on the scene a few years ago, now I hear that there are rumblings of another pretender to my identity coming to light. Apparently Lord D'Arcy is in negotiations for his new 'opera' with this counterfeit creature, who is rumored to be of dubious repute and even worse, has a daughter named Meg who dresses and acts like some gypsy tramp.

Such blasphemy will not go unpunished!

Settling Old Debts

It has now nearly been a month and a half since the infamous New Year's Masquerade and I have heard barely a peep from our Resident Ghost.

I wonder if he rememebers that he still owes me 375 Euros for the Red Death costume drycleaning services (plus ten percent for the trouble it took on my part to haul that massive outfit to and from his preferred cleaner's shop, which of course is not exactly conveniently located). I shall have to pin a note to Ayesha's collar next time I catch her scurrying about - which she seems to be doing with increased frequency these days; no doubt part of some devious, if perhaps eccentric, scheme of Erik's.

La Carlotta has been particularly troublesome so far this season; screeching at the ballet girls during rehearsals, occupying the width of the entire hallway as she parades through the Opera with her servile entourage, and imperiously demanding all sorts of favors and privileges for her fans from the attendant boxkeeper - which of course would be yours truly.

It is common knowledge that she has planned a lavish dinner with Signore Piangi this evening at La Maison Blanche (she had to book their reservations 8 months ago), in celebration of this irritatingly amorous holiday. I do hope my old friend Marcel, who is ever discreet and works in the kitchen there, will remember to add the 'special ingredient' that I suggested for our diva's entree.

I do hope that Piangi is not averse to the discomfort of scrutiny that is bound to occur when one's dinner companion suddenly, and with increasing frequency, begins to scratch at themselves all over.

For once I'm thankful for Meg's finely-tuned ear for Opera gossip. No wonder Carlotta doesn't want anyone to know about her allergy to asparagus.

Monkey Business

When coming to collect Meg from the dormatories today I overheard the chiming strains of a familiar tune and opened the door to find Meg on the floor fiddling with Erik's precious monkey music box! Barely hearing Meg's babbling, protesting explanation as to how it came into her posession - something to do with the Masquerade party - I marched her and the the percussive primate down to Erik's lair in short order and made her apologize to him for having abducted it in such a fashion, and furthermore for allowing it to be damaged by Little Jammes.

Although our resident Ghost appeared pleased to see his furry friend again, I must say that I was rather shocked by his appearance. Normally quite meticulous in attire, he seemed bedraggled and unkempt; clothes wrinkled and mask slightly askew. I presumed that it had something to do with Christine's reported liason with this 'Gerik' fellow, and I commented to that effect.

At the mention of that encounter, Meg piped up and related what had happened afterwards. This seemed to cheer Erik up considerably, dispelling his bleak attitude and prompting him to crack open a can of Red Bull, down the whole thing, then rush to his pipe organ and pound out a joyous, albeit dissonant, melody. Sensing he was going to be lost in another one of his compositional frenzies, which only someone with little regard for their health would dare to interrupt, we quietly took our leave.

I took special care to check Meg's person for any souvenirs she might have attempted to spirit away with her.

Aftermath

*massages temples* New Year's at the Opera was, as you may have been able to discern from Meg's surruptitiously-filmed video of my unfortunate intoxication, well, madness! I haven't quite figured out how to remove this visual documentary from my blog, but I'm sure that Meg will remember well not to attempt such a childish prank again; her sentence will be to polish the Ballet Foyer foor every night for a week after rehearsals.

Curiously enough the next day I noticed that Erik's extravagant Red Death costume had been left hanging in my office with a note from the man himself requesting that I take it to be drycleaned. The garment fairly reeked of Eau de Alcohol. I'd never known our Ghost to partake in spirits so much (then again, I thought the same of myself prior to the party), but I duly complied with his request. The cleaning bill on that is going to be extortionate, I fear.

It wasn't until later that I learned there were TWO Red Deaths in attendance at the Masquerade... and apparently the newly arrived version was seen, shall we say, fraternizing, with Christine Daae.

This cannot bode well ...

Maman at the Masquerade

I know she'll probably kill me for this, but I don't care! It was totally worth it! Happy New Year! - Meg