Silas moonwalked down the stairs.

Amaria's eyes widened in alarm.

'Hey, why are you...?'

'Eh?' he replied, and proceeded to dance the funky chicken.

He then did a backflip, sang the entirety of 'Yellow Submarine' and saluted the toaster.

'Silas, what are you doing?'

'Mademoiselle, look: I'm psychotic, and I'm in a Mary-Sue. NOTHING I do has to make sense!' and with that, he donned a handy tophat and began to juggle with a handful of tomatoes.

Amaria was quite impressed, but said 'That's worrying. I think you should see a doctor'. Silas frowned and put down the tomatoes.

'I was merely illustrating a point,' he said coolly, 'It took much courage, with my...self-esteem...issues...,' he added in a modest tone, picking at the bowl of tuna pasta, and grimacing as he wished it was something french and tasty.

'I...,' began Amaria, her eyes lighting up with joy at the prospect of discussing Childhood Angst.

'...although if we are talking about needing a doctor, I was shot in the leg this afternoon,' he said pointedly.

'Oh! The dressings!'

Silas squinted, thinking of salad.

'Ah. The dressings,' he said finally. And how convenient from the point of view of anyone wanting to get him into...a certain situation...that said dressings were on his left inner thigh. But before he could tell her he'd taken a first aid class and was perfectly capable of keeping them tidy - she had knelt, flipped up the hem of his now-clean robe, and gasped in horror.

'What...is...that?' she squealed.

Silas toyed with a number of different answers. Most of them were unprintably obscene, but eventually he just said:

'A cilice'

'A what?'

'Sill - eese'

'Why...why are you wearing this? My God, look, it's sliced into your flesh!'

'Not nearly as badly as the old one,' he said happily, thinking of the crocodile.

'Why, Silas, why?'

'My religion likes me to wear it'

'Your religion likes you to wear metal spikes around your thigh?'

'So? Some religons like their followers to wear chicken suits and purple sunglasses'

'Really?'

'Oui. The Kentucky-fried Brotherhood of Holofernie. They're very distinctive'

'I can imagine,' Amaria tutted, her slow yet one-track mind gradually registering exactly where she was kneeling. Silas looked down, alarmed. He thought fast:

'Hey, is that Paul Bettany?' he said, pointing out the window.

'WHERE!' Amaria shreiked, dazzled, star-struck and glittering all over. The auto-drool function began again.

'Aw, you just missed him. Gotta be quick, he's like lightning on those long legs! Maybe if you run, you can catch up with him!' Silas enthused, breathing a sigh of relief as she pounded joyously up the hallway, wrenched open the door, tripped over her cat, screamed in pain, sat up and said:

'Hey, wait a minute...!'

Silas hurriedly sat down at the table and quickly feigned fascination with the pepper-pot.

'Mademoiselle,' he said, after a long and uncomfy silence (neither of them could exactly be described as witty conversationalists),'I still do not know you. Perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves properly' Perhaps I ought to don a ruffled skirt and dance the can-can, he added mentally, plunged into sarcasm at the sight of her vacant gawping. Luckily, however, Amaria realised this might be an opening into discussing her Childhood Angst, and quickly agreed.

They adjourned to the sitting-room, Amaria with coffee, still whining at Silas' blunt refusal of a nibbly amaretti biscuit.

-

Silas and Amaria were getting on like a house on fire - that is, much longer in each other's company, and there would probably falling masonry and the neighbours running away screaming. It wasn't that Amaria had all the intellect of a piece of carpet fluff, it was just that she appeared to find using the other 98 of her probably quite intelligent brain unnecessary.

'You're like a Catholic?' she burbled, fluttering her eyelashes,'Wow...I used to go to a Catholic school. I did well at maths'.

'You did?'

'Yeah, soon as I saw that man nailed to the giant plus-sign, I knew they meant business!'

Silas stared in disbeleif. How could anyone be so...? Oh, screw it, he thought, and gave up in disgust. He also debated not mentioning the exact ins and outs (or lack thereof) of Opus Dei's policies on celibacy, but he was a simple man, and besides, lying is a lot less fun when you know you're going to have to add one whiplash per fib to repent.

Amaria looked fascinated.

'So, you're chaste?'

'Sometimes. But I can usually out-run whoever's chasing'

'Huh? Oh, hah! Funny! Hee, you make me laugh'

Silas was taken aback - in his life, compliments were as rare as dodos and nowhere near as easy to digest. Besides which, he'd never really got the hang of humour or seen the point in it. Devotion to God was a serious business. Truly, the corrosive and wholly distressing presence of Amaria was probably causing him to come unstuck from his godly ways. No just God would subject a loyal servant of ten-ish years to this kind of trial - well, not after letting him be USED by religious leaders, SHOT by the police and POKED by Ian McKellan's walking stick, anyway.

And then Amaria was back to being her usual clotted self.

'So you're saying you've gone ten years without sex,' she squawked, ' Hah! That's nothing, I went 17!'

Silas frowned, 'How old are you?'

'18'

'That's...slightly different...'

'Tchah. Suuuure it is' Amaria rolled her eyes. She seemed unwilling to drop the subject, 'You haven't slept with anybody in ten years...'

'Oui'

'Tchch, so you say! But whose job was it to check, eh! The chick-checker?' she said, howling with laughter.

'Mademoiselle, please!' barked Silas abruptly, 'My life's choices are my own - they do not deserve your mockery!'

Amaria swallowed. She looked down, becoming suddenly quiet.

'I'm...I'm very sorry, Silas. It's just, when people are uncomfy about an issue, they...they sometimes laugh to disguise their true feelings. It's just...my tragic past. Silas, I hope you can understand...'

Silas, at the end of his tether after a long and exhausting day, rubbed his wounded leg unhappily, and decided to play along with her nasty little mind-games.

'What?' he said softly, gazing into her irritatingly beautiul violet eyes.

'I...I didn't have the best of childhoods,' she sniffled, biting back tears. Silas gave her a symphathetic look, murmuring quietly:

'I did not either'

'Could I...tell you my secret?' she said, biting her full, pouty, probably-about-to-be-kissed lips. She hardly dared to hope. So many years of despair! So much trauma, so much pain! So many secrets, hidden away, unable to ever tell anyone. Could it finally be she had found someone to confide in?

'Yes,' he said simply, gazing a little deeper.

'When I was seven, my mother took me to join the Brownies A/N: Americans read 'Girlscouts',' Amaria began, 'I...I was so happy! They gave me a little yellow uniform, and that bag with the cute pink elephant on it, and...and...a special sash for all my badges. I was a real Brownie, Silas!' she cried, tears rolling down her face as she clutched at Silas. He leaned ever closer, his face like two tiny patches of blue sky, peeping out from a white expanse of clouds.

'Silas, this is the seat of my trauma and issues, all my bad self-esteem, the self-loathing and probably it's to blame for third world debt and the war in Iraq too! Silas: I got bullied by the Pixies!' she bawled, tears streaming as Silas clutched at her hand in concern,' I tried to get them to stop...but then the Gnomes joined in, and...and...Brown Owl wasn't looking. Oh, it was horrible, horrible, ten year olds all jeering and chanting and calling me 'aubergine head'. Silas, oh Silas, they stamped on my cress egg-head...his little broken eggshell of a body, lying lifeless on the floor, cress seeds and damp cotton wool spilling everywhere...

...Silas, they killed my cress-man

She wept, sobbing brokenly now, all the pain flowing out in a watery gush.

Silas couldn't bear to see her like this - so painful, so upset, so distressed. Plus the snot streaming down her chin was a real turn-off.

He leant in towards her as if to comfort her, azure eyes aglow, and she stopped crying, to look back at him, transfixed by the love reflected in his beautiful eyes. They leant in together, looking so deeply, lips parting faintly, surprisedly and...CRACK!

'Ow!

'Owww!'

Apparently, ten years of kiss-free celibacy will make you forget to turn your head to one side.

Amaria rubbed her sore forehead painfully, as Silas, dazed and seeing stars, leant forward, cupping his bashed head in his hands. He rocked back and forth in silent pain.There was an embarrased pause.

'Um. I don't suppose we could resume where we left off?' Amaria suggested, blowing her nose, totally unconcerned about the Brownie issue now that it had served plot-wise.

Her eyes reflected her pain. Silas sat up, misty-eyed, and stared straight into her eyes, wondering just how many pairs of eyes there actually were on this sofa now. He reached out to touch her gently on one flawless, snow-white cheek, and stroked softly. She sighed.

Silas gazed deep into her eyes, embraced her, and said soulfully:

'That story had sod all to do with mocking my celibacy, didn't it?'

Amaria swallowed and pouted, muttering a grudging 'yes'. Silas leant towards her, paused to whisper:

'It was, in fact, completely irrelevant, wasn't it?'

'Yes,' Amaria whimpered, pressing urgently against him, desirous of his beautiful white body and his warm arms around her. Silas leant in, and his lips touched hers and everything...just...felt...dizzy. Amaria kissed back hungrily, tugging at the front of his newly-washed robes as Silas deepened the hot kiss, his snowy hands roaming all over her sofa cushions. Amaria's eyes flickered open momentarily to witness his gorgeous face as it flinched in disgust. Poor Dear! Amaria thought, squeezing her legs around him with enough force to crack a walnut, those Mopus Mei people must've really brainwashed him! And she grabbed his pasty backside lewdly to reassure him. They kissed for what felt like seconds on end. Silas flailed helplessly as she pinned him back again the couch, whimpering in what sounded like utter horror, but Amaria reassured herself was bestial lust. She straddled him, and bent to undo...

...but something was horribly wrong.

Amaria shook her head muzzily. She sat up. Ow! Ow, how come it HURT!

'Pain! Pain,' she gurned, choking horribly.

Silas smiled at her, and delicately nibbled out one single jalapeno chilli seed from between his lips.

He pushed her away and sat up calmly, arranging his robes with dignity as Amaria proceeded to pluck at her tongue in the manner of a Looney Tunes character on crack.

'Mademoiselle, I hoped you would not mind,' he inclined his head courteously,'but these chillies are in accordance with Opus Dei's thinking. They provide an excellent substitute whilst our Disciplines are away being dry-cleaned. I took some from your kitchen, I'm afraid - would you like one?' he proferred a handful of the searingly hot jalapenos generously, and delicately nibbled another one, quite undisturbed by its fiery taste. Amaria shock her head violently, and galloped to the kitchen for a glass of water - or, failing that, a fire blanket.

Silas sucked thoughtfully on the end of another scarlet jalapeno. He cringed inwardly at having to resort to such a childish trick, but then, he reasoned, being the dysfunctional emotional cripple I am, I can probably get away with it. Technically, Amaria had been fortunate - under normal circumstances, grabbing Silas and forcibly snogging him would result in sensations of such terminal rage and horror that the snoggee would have their neck twisted and their disembodied head kicked halfway to Madagascar before they could blink. When you think about it, she'd had a lucky escape.

-

He bid a rather sulky Amaria good-night, and limpingly ascended the stairs to his bedroom.

Contrary to popular belief, his thoughts were NOT of God, Amaria naked, or his traumatic childhood. No, he had only one thing on his mind - escape. He told himself he really should've just barged out the door by now, but broad daylight, a leg still prone to leaking strawberry jam at inconvenient moments, and a nagging sense of politeness had prevented him. After all, it was only him at stake, and not (as previously) The Future Of Religion As We Know It.

I have to get out of here, he thought, heading for the window.

'Windowlocks!' Amaria trilled, trundling merrily into his room, clamping one onto the window and screwdriving it quickly into place.

'Why?' Silas said in dismay, 'I wasn't about to climb down the drainpipe!'

'Well, you know, people fall out of windows and things...can't be too careful!'

'Why would I fall out the window?'

'Well, you might suddenly try and fly or something...you are a bit of an angel, tee hee!'

Silas face showed he was distinctly not amused.

'I see. Have these...got keys?'

'Not any more!' She smiled brightly at him, before tipping her head back and dropping the little metal key straight down her throat, 'Mmm...metal-y!'

'How about the doors?'

'Yeah, but I keep the keys in my underwear'

'Your underwear...drawer?'

'Nope, my underwear!'

'WHY!'

'Well, not many thieves would think to look there. Wouldn't want to be robbed, now, would we?'

'What about when you're at home?'

'Heh, they're still there,' she winked at Silas ,'Wanna check?'

About as much as I want to staple my testicles to the wall, he thought, and said:

'I'm fine, thanks. Good to know I am...safe'

'Nightnight then! See ya in the morning!'

'Sadly, yes,' Silas muttered, and put the duvet over his head.

Great. Now all he had to do was get slim enough to escape via the catflap.

-

Apologies for previous chopped-out html link(s) - I've only just bothered to check FAQ for the title 'Why Do All My Html Links Get Cut Out And Leave The Rest Of The Sentence Hanging Moronically In Midair?'.

Cheery and (sorry) quite lengthy thankyous to Bastetgirl, BelleEve, Elaine (LOL to your God line), Aljinon, Shy FX (fret not about insanity. It comes in 2 forms - trendy and serial killer. As long as it's the kooky, 'trendy' insanity, you're fine - if it's the 'serial killer', uh, then I really hope you don't live near me...), the ephemeron (can I steal that 'luscious little bonbon head' phrase? It rocks), xlawa, sweetgirl99 (hope I haven't upset your story, you know, it's still a proper-healthy thing to do, writing romancefic. Probably healthier than parodying. I mean, how healthy to not be able to say 'I love you', but instead having to say 'I love you...like custard' and both burst out laughing:D And your reviews..lol, smurf!) and Kelly Tolkein, Countess Verona Dracula (How do I do it? I just love my characters. Well. One of them, anyway ;) .It's got to be affectionate. And may you have a pleasing vacation!), Schemergirl (thankyou, and - what does 'pwned' mean?).