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 ...