Seal My Fate Tonight. I Hate To Have To Cut The Fun Short, But The Joke's Wearing Thin. Let The Audience In. Let My Opera Begin!

If you get the reference in the title, then your name is probably Ben, and your middle initial is probably C. (I'm not even going to offer anything.)

But haha. I have an idea. The result of this is (a) me emailing Ben with "I JUST HAD AN IDEA!" and (b) this blog posting. What, you ask, is this idea? What, I ask, is this idea? What? Who? When? Where? Why? Alliance? Of? Mice? Chat? You see, this is the sort of thing that happens when I just start going all tangenty and writing about whatever happens to pop into my head. Et cetera. Et cetera. What is this et cetera?

(In large French accent.) You have given us an empty rabbit. (Normal voice.) Yes, er. . .

Ben: For Pete's sake, get to the point, Kat.

Max: Who's Pete?

Spencer: One whose sake is valued by all.

Kat: Er, yes, rather, I really should get on with it.

(Ahem.)

I have had an idea!

Ely and Erika: (Awed voices.) An idea!

A fascinating idea!

Ely and Erika: A fascinating idea!

A complex, brilliant idea!

Ely and Erika: A complex, brilliant idea!

Mickey: Hot cross buns, hot cross buns. . .one a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns. . .

Don't ask about the tangents. I'm in that sort of mood. But to get to the idea. . .Here 'tis. I shall write the first bit of a story. A story regarding us. Regarding fan fiction. Regarding randomness.

Ben: No, Random - (Is stifled and supressed by the army of rampaging muffins. There, now I've paid you off.)

And most of all, the story shall be Regarding the Phantom. For that shall be the title and all that. Now, Regarding the Phantom is a tale of mail. Emmy-mail, to be precise. Emmy-mail is the system that, in my strange stories about our Opera, the characters communicate through. Thusly, I ask you. . .to write as yourself.

Here's the gist. I'll write a letter, as my Operatic alter ego. For me, that would be the J.G., or Phantom of the Junior High. For Gabe, it would be Monsieur Gabe, Lord High Opera Manager In Charge of Overstuffed Pillows. And thusly does it go.

So I write a letter. In ye olde comments, ye shall write ye olde responses.

And what is the first topic for our emmy-mail? Well, what is the newest development in our Opera? Mickey showed up! So the emmy-mail shall be regarding the entrance of Mickey, and what she shall be titled. Thus does the J.G. command.

If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.