REVENGE OF THE SOON-TO-BE NUN-

"Young lady, did you hear me? I told you that I needed to talk to you privately!"

Mother Elizabeth exclaimed, rapping her ruler on Briseis's desk.

The 17-year old wasn't exactly dying to have a talk with Mother Elizabeth who had once scolded her for asking to go to the bathroom.

Briseis remembered that Mother Elizabeth had demanded, "Is relief from suffering more important than the Lord's words?"

Briseis had wanted to retort, "Yes! Right now it is!"

Following the elderly nun into a private office, Briseis glumly sat down in a stiff wooden chair that creaked and groaned every time she moved. For a moment, Mother Elizabeth eyed the chair and Briseis in annoyance. Then, she slammed her ruler down on the back of the chair and barked,

"Young ladies never slouch!"

Briseis stole a glance at the Mother who herself was slouching so much; she looked as if she were bending over to pick up something from the ground.

"You wish to become a nun? Yes? You wish to swear your life and love to the Lord and only to the Lord?" the Mother asked, looking carefully at Briseis while rubbing her chin.

Briseis nodded slowly and concentrated on the Mother's inch-long fingernails that had yellow, jagged tips. Forcing a smile onto her face, Briseis tried to look sincere.

"Then, why did you throw yourself into a violent passion and give an innocent man a concussion?" Mother Elizabeth howled.

"Who told you that lie?" Briseis asked, stunned.

"Your cousin," the nun replied triumphantly as if that proved that it was not a lie.

"Hector?" Briseis demanded.

"No, not him," the nun said, waving her hand in the air and nearly poking Briseis's eye out. "The cute one. The one named Paris."

HELEN'S HOT SPOT-

As Paris paced in front of the supermodel's boutique, he muttered repeatedly to himself,

"Act suave, act suave."

"But I like you the way you are."

Paris jumped as he heard her deep, melodious voice and clenched his shaking hands as he turned to face her.

"You have such a cute grin!" Helen cooed and grabbing his cheek, squeezed it soundly.

"Thanks," Paris whispered breathlessly and looked at her little half-smile. "And you have such... such luscious lips!"

Helen's perfectly arched eyebrows shot up as her smile faded. For a moment, they stared at each other while avoiding the other's stare. Helen scratched her head and mused, 'It's so sad that such a cute boy toy is so dull.'

Paris kept on shrugging to himself and muttering bizarre words that sounded like "suave" and "hot" until finally, he said,

"Can you please make me a model or my brother's going to rip me apart?"

Luckily, Helen didn't have to answer the question as her cell phone rang and she excused herself.

"Listen to me very carefully," a very young, desperate voice murmured from the phone. "You are in immense danger right now."

"Really?" Helen squeaked, immediately worried.

"Unless you're not frightened by cute-looking psychos, you're in danger," the voice whispered.

"Oh, phew," Helen sighed. "I was almost going to get a worry wrinkle."

"Is there not a young man with curly brown hair, dreamy eyes, and an annoying personality at your boutique?" the voice inquired.

"How did you know? Are you a fortune teller?" Helen asked suspiciously.

"No, but you must get away from that young man immediately," the voice insisted. "He has just escaped from a mental asylum and he is carrying an extremely large butcher knife with him right now."

"Oh, thank you for warning me," Helen whispered back and hanged up.

And after Helen hanged up, Briseis who had been whispering into a pay phone to the model, burst out laughing and after screaming out a "Yes!" she danced out and handed the phone to a man who had been waiting impatiently for ten minutes. Their eyes met and suddenly, she let out a scream.

It was Achilles.