Anchorman of the Opera: Little Lotte

(An "Anchorman" parody)

"Here we are, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Monsieur Firmin, indicating the secluded dressing room belonging to Christine Daaé, the young chorus girl who had just triumphed onstage as a last-minute replacement for the opera's prima donna.


The door was ajar, and Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny and the Paris Opera's newest patron, peeked inside to find the lovely Christine sitting at her small dressing table with her back to the door, her lissome figure wrapped in a white silk negligee as she brushed out her long, auburn curls.


"By the beard of Zeus..." he muttered to himself. She was most certainly no longer the gawkish girl that he once knew.


Clearing his throat, he turned to the managers. "Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind. This is one visit I should prefer to make unaccompanied."


Monsieur André blinked. "As you wish, monsieur," he replied, slightly flummoxed as Raoul snatched the magnum of champagne from his business partner's hand, but he knew better than to argue with a wealthy patron.


"Thank you," he smiled, checking the vintage of the bottle as they bowed and walked off. When they were gone, the young nobleman turned back towards the young woman's dressing room.


"Got to approach this just right..." he mumbled under his breath. Pulling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest, he boldly strode through the door.


"Christine Daaé?"


Startled at the presence of a strange man appearing unannounced in her dressing room, Christine quickly adjusted her gown to protect her modesty.


"Monsieur?" she said in a surprised tone. She turned slightly on her little stool, her lovely face and décolletage illuminated by the gaslight.


"I hope I'm not disturbing you," the Vicomte started, "but… uh… I saw you onstage tonight and, uh... I don't usually do this, but… I felt compelled to tell you something."


The young opera star looked up at him with her big baby blue eyes, her brows raised in curiosity.


"You have... an absolutely... breathtaking... heinie. I mean, that thing is good. I wanna be friends with it."


Christine blinked and looked down, perturbed by the young man's comment. "Well, you certainly know how to compliment a lady. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She raised a delicate hand and pointed to the door.


"Do you know who I am?" Raoul asked, slightly offended at how swiftly she dismissed him.


Christine paused, surprised by this stranger's impertinence. "No," she smiled thinly as she tried to remain cordial in the presence of this obviously overzealous fan. "I -- I can't say that I do."


Raoul cocked his head smugly. "I don't know how to put this," he sniffed, "but... I'm kind of a big deal."


"Really?" she replied skeptically. He nodded.


"People know me."


She nodded back curtly and smiled, not believing a word he said. "Well, I'm very happy for you."


Raoul blinked. This was definitely not going well. "I'm very important," he stammered, "Uh... I have… many fine horses… and my chateau smells of rich mahogany." He choked, seeing that the conversation was spiraling out of control. "I -- I -- I'm friends with Franz Liszt, too. He's -- comes over… on occasion." He laughed nervously. "That's stupid."


Christine brushed a stray curl out of her face, still trying to remain composed despite the awkwardness of the situation. She certainly hoped this wasn't setting a precedent for her encounters with patrons in the future. "No, no, it's... very exciting."


Raoul flapped his hand around between them, hoping to erase the entire conversation from existence. "Listen, can -- can I start over again?"


Christine sighed inwardly. "Sure."


His eyes darted around the room, as if struggling to find his missing confidence. It clearly wasn't in his free hand, which was still flopping around like a fish. Nevertheless, the young Vicomte charged forward.


"I wanna say something. I'm gonna put it out there. And if you like it, you can take it. If you don't, send it riiiight back."


She nodded politely. Raoul took a deep breath, steadying his mind and focusing his thoughts to crystal clarity. He pointed his well-manicured finger at Christine.


"I wanna be on you."


As he saw the ingenue's expression go blank, Raoul immediately regretted his decision. Without another word or look at him, she stood up and walked out the door.


"Wait," he implored as he stood helplessly watching Christine and her breathtaking heinie disappear from sight. "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. I…" Now completely alone in her dressing room, Raoul kept staring out after Christine in silence.


"I wanna be on you," he said once more before his shoulders slumped in defeat.


"Merde. I knew I should have gone with the red scarf thing."