Hilarious Carlotta meta-fic
Dec. 20th, 2018 01:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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vicomte_de_chagnyThis is brilliant.
This is brilliant.
This is brilliant :-D
The Conjuror's Masque
It was business as usual at the Paris Opera. Of course, when you're trapped in a detective novel about a disfigured lunatic who falls in love with your understudy, usual is just another kind of strange.
"OMG I totally did it because I am bad artistocrat rapist and evil boring and she totally loved Eric and I wear pink panties and stuff OMG!" –signed, Raul, the Visconter of Change
There was a general murmur of "OMG? What does OMG mean?" until at last little Jammes yelled over the din, "It must be Opera Ghost!" This seemed to satisfy the crowd until someone with slightly better observational skills pointed out that Jammes had missed out the M.
Roule owned more than one ingenious plane...
"But Paris is a long train journey with two changeovers an hour long ride by bus followed by a twenty minute cab journey from Perros," said Roule.
"That's true," replied Madame Giry, "But it takes ten minutes by carriage."
...it hadn't occurred to them that a man who could build a house five stories underground was probably well-acquainted with stairways and how to use them.
I felt that I could be reasonably certain that I had not been dumped into a dungeon somewhere, or if I had, Erik had apparently come up with some kind of torture by fluffy comforters which seemed a little over-inventive even for him.
Antoinette Giry swished along the hallway with the kind of purposeful rustle of skirts that cannot be achieved without diligent practice, or at least the benefit of an author with an excessive fondness for romantic prose involving a great many adjectives.
I searched my mind for an instance of any work of fiction where someone like Erik became the hero. I discarded several possibilities, because a novel doesn't truly live unless someone wants to read it, and most of the things that came to mind were the sort of thing that is cast aside and forgotten with three chapters.
This is brilliant.
This is brilliant :-D
The Conjuror's Masque
It was business as usual at the Paris Opera. Of course, when you're trapped in a detective novel about a disfigured lunatic who falls in love with your understudy, usual is just another kind of strange.
"OMG I totally did it because I am bad artistocrat rapist and evil boring and she totally loved Eric and I wear pink panties and stuff OMG!" –signed, Raul, the Visconter of Change
There was a general murmur of "OMG? What does OMG mean?" until at last little Jammes yelled over the din, "It must be Opera Ghost!" This seemed to satisfy the crowd until someone with slightly better observational skills pointed out that Jammes had missed out the M.
Roule owned more than one ingenious plane...
"But Paris is a long train journey with two changeovers an hour long ride by bus followed by a twenty minute cab journey from Perros," said Roule.
"That's true," replied Madame Giry, "But it takes ten minutes by carriage."
...it hadn't occurred to them that a man who could build a house five stories underground was probably well-acquainted with stairways and how to use them.
I felt that I could be reasonably certain that I had not been dumped into a dungeon somewhere, or if I had, Erik had apparently come up with some kind of torture by fluffy comforters which seemed a little over-inventive even for him.
Antoinette Giry swished along the hallway with the kind of purposeful rustle of skirts that cannot be achieved without diligent practice, or at least the benefit of an author with an excessive fondness for romantic prose involving a great many adjectives.
I searched my mind for an instance of any work of fiction where someone like Erik became the hero. I discarded several possibilities, because a novel doesn't truly live unless someone wants to read it, and most of the things that came to mind were the sort of thing that is cast aside and forgotten with three chapters.
