“What is the word I’m looking for?” Jack did whispering to Eddie.

“Search me,” said the bear in reply. “Average, bland, standard, run-of-the-mill, insipid, dull, middling, trite, mediocre, commonplace.”

“That’s enough,” said Jack. “But that’s what it is.”

“Aaagh,” went the Phantom. “Do not gaze upon my ubiquitousness.”

“And that’s a good’n,” said Eddie. “Possibly the best’n. He’s as ubiquitous as.”

“What are you doing here?” The Phantom raised his voice, but it didn’t really seem to raise. It droned somewhat. Which was odd as his, or her, or its, singing had been sweet. Although Eddie had hated it. “Have you come to mock me for my generality? Come to laugh at the cursed one? The one too dull and everyday to be noticed?”

“We noticed you at once,” said Jack. “And I really loved the singing.”

“You did?” said the Phantom. “You really did?”

“It was a beautiful song. But we’re lost. We need to get up into the Opera House. Would you help us, please?”

“I rarely venture above,” said the Phantom. “My appearance is too lacking in extremity even to draw notice. Folk don’t even know I’m there.”

“Who said that?” said Eddie.

“Stop it,” said Jack. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh, it is,” said the Phantom, wringing hands of abundant nonentity. “They all laugh. It’s all the Toymaker’s fault.”

“The kindly, lovable white-haired old Toymaker?” said Jack.

“Unless you know of another.”

Jack shook his head.

“He wanted to create a toy that would be loved by all, that would appeal to all. So he took a bit of this and a bit of that and a bit of the other and he blended them all together. But did he create something that would universally be loved by all?”

Jack shook his head slowly. “No?” he suggested.

“Correct,” said the Phantom. “I am everything. And by being everything, I am nothing. I am a Phantom.”

“That’s very sad,” said Jack.

“But we are in a hurry,” said Eddie.

“That is true,” said Jack. “Do you think, Mister Phantom, that you could be kind enough to show us the way up into the Opera House. It is Mister Phantom, is it, or is it Miss or Missis?”

“If only I knew,” said the Phantom. “Then, if I did know, I’d know whether some of the urges I feel at times are natural rather than perverse.”

“Difficult,” said Jack.

“Time,” said Eddie, pawing at an imaginary wristwatch.

“That bear’s no master of mime,” said the Phantom. “And what is he, anyway?”

“I’m an Anders Imperial,” said Eddie. “Cinnamon plush –”

“That’s a beer-bottle top in your ear hole.”

“That’s my special button tag.”

“Oh no it’s not.”

“Oh yes it is.”

“Time,” said Jack, and he pointed to his wristwatch.

“I’ll take you up,” said the Phantom, “but I’ll caution you to take care.”

“Oh yes?” said Jack.

“Something is amongst us,” said the Phantom. “I can sense it. Something that pretends to be us, but is not. Something other. Something apart. Something from Beyond The Second Big O.”

“We are aware of this,” said Jack, “and it is our job to stop it.”

“Really?” the Phantom voiced surprise, but in a manner too dull and too monotone to express the emotion. “Really, I am surprised. But you must beware. This something, and there is more than one of these somethings – there are two, in fact – these somethings will destroy us all, they will suck the very life force out of Toy City, leaving it an empty shell.”

Jack looked at Eddie.

And Eddie looked at Jack.

“Please lead us up,” said Jack.

The Phantom led the way. He, she or it, or all of the aforementioned, had a certain height to whatever he, she or it was. But it was an indeterminate height that was difficult to quantify. It was neither one thing nor the other; it lay somewhere in between, but beyond.

“If they ever make a movie of this,” Eddie whispered up to Jack, “they’ll have a real problem casting this, er, being.”

“They’ll probably get Gary Oldman,” said Jack. “He can play anyone.”

“Who is Gary Oldman?”

“Search me,” said Jack. “I think my mind’s wandering again. It was poetry yesterday. I probably do need some sleep.”

“This way,” said the Phantom, leading onward.

And onward the Phantom led and eventually his leading was done with the opening of a secret panel, as is so often the case with Phantoms. “This is the royal box,” he, she or it said. “You’ll have a good view of the show from here – no one uses it any more. Something to do with Edict Five. Did you ever hear of it?”

“Never,” said Eddie. “Thank you for helping us, Mister, er, well, Phantom.”

“I do have a name,” said the Phantom.

“Oh,” said Jack. “What is it?”

“Ergo,” said the Phantom. “I’ll be leaving you now.”

“Nice fellow,” said Jack, once the Phantom had departed. “Or woman, or whoever, or whatever.”

Eddie shrugged and climbed into a most comfortable-looking queenly kind of a chair. “All right, I suppose, if you like that kind of a thing.”

Jack dropped down into the chair next to Eddie’s, a most sumptuous kingly kind of a chair. Jack gazed all about the royal box. It was all gold twirly bits and gilt wallpaper.

And then Jack looked out from the box and into the Opera House proper. He had been there before, had Jack, as too had Eddie, and this was the royal box that Eddie had been sick in. Although it didn’t smell of sick now, or possibly it did, a bit. It smelled a bit like sawdust. And Jack marvelled anew at the wonders of the Opera House.

“It really is an incredible place,” said Jack.

“Gaudy,” said Eddie. “Gaudy.”

Jack looked out over the audience.

And then Jack whispered to Eddie, “They’re out there somewhere, our lookalikes, about to strike.”

“Did your, er, secret source tell you just who they are intending to strike at?” Eddie asked.

“The orchestra,” Jack whispered in return.

Eddie stood up on his chair and peered down into the orchestra pit. And Eddie counted on his paws, which meant counting two at a time. And when Eddie had finished his counting, Eddie turned to Jack.

“The orchestra?” said Eddie. “The entire orchestra?”

“According to my source,” said Jack, “who calculated the odds. There were twelve monkeys and then there was the jazz trio. Three times twelve is thirty-six and there are thirty-six orchestra members here. The murders are growing in a mathematical progression.”

“Jack, the entire orchestra? All of them?”

“That’s what my source suggests.”

“Jack,” said Eddie, “look down at the orchestra, if you will.”

Jack looked down upon the orchestra.

“Jack, count the number of members of the orchestra, if you will.”

Jack counted.

“Jack, tell me the number you have arrived at, if you will.”

Jack said, “Yep, that’s thirty-six, including the conductor, I’m afraid.”

“Jack, so many folk. This will be a massacre. What are we going to do?”

“Well,” said Jack, “I have thought about this, and the way I see it is –”

But then Jack’s words were swallowed away, for the orchestra struck up.