If looks could kill, Silas may have had to take a small aspirin.

'?' he asked Amaria wearily.

But she merely continued frowning at him. Something was afoot - which was (confusingly enough) going to be a handful. They carried on their unmerry way, Silas dressed in a surprisingly flattering binliner.

It was some time before Silas realised they had passed the Opus Dei building, and he hadn't thought about going into it. In fact, the more he considered it, the more he reckoned that he ought to stay out of it a bit longer just to make absolutely sure the world was 100 as horrible as they said. The Doctors who'd patched his leg up, the bunny biscuits, the jeans, the fact he'd had his cilice off for two whole days and hadn't (as he had assumed he would) turned into a dribbling, sex-crazed manslut - all pointed pointily to the idea that there WERE decent bits in life too.

'Got you a present,' said Amaria stiffly. She handed him a small book.

'I didn't know you could read,' Silas raised a single tic-tac coloured eyebrow.

It was entitled:

''Chicken Soup for the Albino's Soul'

'Words of comfort. Self-esteem. Thankyou,' he said with genuine smile, accepting it.

'Yeah,' she giggled, and added darkly, 'You're gonna need it...!'

-

Thinking about it, her choice of DVD that evening probably shouldn't have been 'The Life of Brian'.

Silas had watched in furious silence, grinding his teeth, and then vacated himself to the back garden with the film, where he anointed it with 4-star and set fire to it. Amaria made a mental note not to show him 'Sister Act'. Although his faith was in crisis at the moment, old habits die hard, and 'He's not the messiah, he's a very silly boy' had chafed his snowy ears. He might be having a hard time finding Jesus at the moment - but he hadn't lost him THAT much.

Night fell, knocking a small owl unconscious as it plummeted.

Silas sat, and felt defeated. He hadn't escaped her clutches, he didn't want to go back to Opus Dei, he didn't know what to do, and his lasagne was a bit runny. He pushed the plate away, feeling depressed.

Amaria, inconsiderate as ever, chose that precise moment to put some music on. Silas grimaced and stuck his fingers in his ears. A) he found it horrible and b) he found it horrible and c) he found it horrible and:

'Rock music is the devil's music, Amaria! Its rhythms encourage lascivious thoughts and entice the body to salacious movements. It's…'

'Sorry, whaddaya say?' goggled Amaria, turning the moaning chords and insistent, driving, thrusting rhythm of Slipknot down…

'Never mind,' Silas sighed miserably.

'No, it's alright,' said Amaria with a strange look in her eyes. She put the music off, 'We can do things your way,' she said quietly.

She sat down on his lap without ceremony, and Silas was feeling so low he hadn't even the heart to stab her with his fork. For one thing, the sight of her bosom deflating in front of him would only have made him queasy. He sighed hopelessly and leant against her razor-like collarbone. He considered The Idea.

And as Amaria wriggled her toast rack of a body aginst him, he began to think that maybe sinning WASN'T such a bad idea. He couldn't possibly feel any more low, guilty or generally pissed-off than he did already, and if he did decide to return to God, well, he could probably still get away with once in 10 years - if he started using a really BIG discipline. Gingerly, he unbuttoned her top as she cooed down his ear, all the while writhing like a depraved eel, to reveal a body about as welcoming and erotic as a bed of nails.

Silas felt mildly queasy, but leant in and bravely planted manifold kisses upon the two hunks of botox glued to her face. If anything, he felt even sicker afterwards. Yet Silas was no coward, and, like an overgrown lamb to a very bizarre slaughter, resigned himself to the fact he was going to sin, and it was probably going to be so abysmal it wouldn't even be worth it. Fearlessly, he made up his mind.Whining like a castrated puppy, Amaria dribbled enthusiasticaly all down his neck. Silas was past caring. With a final few kisses across the canyon of her concave abdomen, he carried her through to the living room and laid with her on the expanse of trendy sofa.

Surprisingly, the situation wasn't as uncomfy as he thought.

In fact, it was getting quite interesting. Amaria was certainly not about to win any points for style, but being a Mary-Sue, she naturally compensated for it in enthusiasm. Silas exited his jeans and just let his long, clever hands wander all over Amaria's skimpy body, initially trying to shake off the feeling he was being attacked by two cantaloupes (and then shrugging and happily letting himself be attacked anyway - did not the Bible say 'multiply and be fruity'?)

Silas was unsure. Part of him was pointing out that if he was going to sin, he should've picked someone who didn't taste of rancid blackcurrants to sin WITH, and part of him was very rapidly getting keener on the idea of accepting her most enthusiastically. No-one would have been crass enough to point out exactly WHICH part in particular this was, but he was certainly grateful Monks didn't wear tiny lycra shorts.

Amaria moaned headily, and Silas, clutching at her with mounting enjoyment, simply did likewise, crying out as her scraggy hand reached down and began to stroke his...

'Wait'

'Eh?' Silas opened one eye.

Amaria thought aloud, stroking his forehead annoyingly.

'I can't find it in my heart to defile this...this ANGEL. You're like... pure as, like...a really pure thing, now! All this coaxing, all these mont...wee...day...hours of enticing, and you lie in my arms like a newborn kitten. You've given in.You'll commit sin, for the first time in like...forever!'

She frowned.

'Silas..I…I can't. I know it's forbidden…I can't do it!' Amaria cried, unclutching him.

'What?' Silas looked up at her from the melon-like comfort of her warm bosom, horror dawning.

'I said I can't! I know you don't want to'

Silas shook his head violently,'No, no, you've got it all wrong - I've decided…'

'Oh, you are too sweet to me,' said Amaria tragically, casting one arm across her forhead, the force of the movement causing delightful earthquakes about the region of Silas' cheek.

'Amaria, I am being perfectly honest here – maybe it is not such a bad a sin, after all. I have considered it. I will forsake my vows just this…where are you going!'

'I am going to put my clothes back on. Silas, you have inspired me, I think I shall become…a nun!'

'NO,' Silas wailed pitifully, 'For the love of God, lie back down…! I'm not averse to a small quantity of sin - nobody's perfect, are they?'

'Silas,' she stroked his cheek, as lickably enticing as a freshly-buttercreamed fairy cake, 'your modesty does you credit. But I know you have a pure mind. You shall commit no sin'

'Yes, but, I really don't like that idea…please? PLEASE?'

'Never, Silas'

'PLEASE? Just a little bit of sin?'

'I am innocent'

'I quick bit of sin? A ten-minute sin?'

'Nothing doing'

'A five-minute one, then – actually, it's been ten years, I could sin in 30 seconds'

'No'

'Oh, go on….pretty please?'

'No'

'Pretty please and sugar on the top and a cherry and…'

'Silas! Enough! I know you are just testing me. I know this sudden change of heart, this eagerness, is nothing but a trick, designed to make me falter in my resolution! But I have set my heart on it – I will become a nun, and serve the God who inspires you to such depths!' she raised her arms, apparently basking in her own holy glow.

Silas gaped at her.

It was insane, crazy, ludicrous, unbeleivable...but then again, she was a Mary-Sue. Her life CONSISTED of the ludicriously bloody stupid. When you looked at it like that, it started to make sense. Nobody would have seen it coming: as a general rule, her insane and frankly tacky lust was supposed to outweigh all sense of decency/modesty/plausibility.

But this was the realm of the Mary-Sue - there WERE no rules!

Silas was not best pleased.

He buried his head in the cushion, stifling a cry of utter dismay.

And he prayed:

Dear God – you really HATE me, don't you?

-

The following morning, Silas left, and headed for the green and peaceful haven of the local park, to think what to do.

He strode purposefully down all the usual avenues of inspiration: prayer, insight, vanilla icecream (the latter a more recent addition whch didn't necessarily help him think, but cheered him up no end). Alas, though, when he reached the final source of guidance...

'Shit! I left my pocket bible at Amaria's place!'

-

The door was too trendy to creak, but swung open with a hip and funky melody of squeaks. Silas gingerly stuck his head round the door and strawberrily said 'Hello?'.

No reply.

He padded through to the hall, intending to head up to the bedroom, take his property, and go, when the sound of voices drifted out from under the living room door...

'And he's 42 years old?' purred the cybertones of a very sexy British accent.

'So...?' he heard Amaria's voice reply

'So, like, you shouldn'tve said 'Marry Me!', you should've said 'Push Off, Grandad!' came the slightly more excitable voie of Twin Two.

'Really?' Amaria gaped, her lower jaw slack. Having no personality beyond what would conveniently please her love interest, she was as easily swayed a baby willowtree, and every bit as damp and wimpy.

'Oh, yeah,' Twin Two said smoothly, manoeuvering a snowy arm about her tiny waist,'forget him, lady, he's nothing...but us, for example...'

'We dont age...,' Twin One purred, sliding a little closer

'...we just get upgraded,' Twin Two finished.

They nuzzled up a little closer to Amaria, whipping off their sunglasses in sexy unison.

Twin One teased her a little as his brother attempted to inch the hem of her miniskirt up, but, her miniskirt being so very mini, very quickly ran out of inches.

'What did you see in that...Slyarse...'

'...Silas...'

'...person anyway? An inferior specimen of your human race,' Twin One sniffed, dissolving the particles of Amaria's bra straps with one clever swipe,'totally illogical and ruled by pointless dogma. Mentally non-functioning'

'Well,' Amaria began,'I think I liked him out of some grotesquely mislaid notion that if I go to all the trouble of sorting out his tortured mind and miserable self-esteem, then I'll somehow deserve to have his as my husband/lover/sex slave for eternity. I am, of course, totally wrong, because 've just realised that once I've made him normal, he'll act like every other normal guy on the planet, and run off with a exotic toothpick who's had two watermelons surgically implanted to her chest'

Two gave her a confused look.

'But...aren't you that toothpick?'

Amaria looked down.

'Hey, whaddayaknow?' she beamed, ' I am! God, it's great being a Mary-Sue!'

One and Two gave each other A Look, seemingly rather confused at Amaria's actually quite perceptive outburst. Their prescence may well have been promoting logical thought in her addled cathouse of a brain.

One attempted to get his advances back on track, and teased once again.

'You really don't deserve us, though..,' he smiled a naughty smile. Two nibbled her purple-varnished fingertips.

'We're too...

'...good for...'

'...shoe, I mean 'you''

'Huh?' said Amaria

Twin One slapped Twin Two.

'When I say 'Finish my sentences in that creepy mind-reading way', I mean finish them CORRECTLY!'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry!'

'Too good for shoe? What does that even MEAN!'

'Well, it's a tad hard to read your mind that fast'

'Read it? Look, you prize berk,we're only supposed to HAVE one mind!'

'Ok! Ok! I said I was sorry, I'll do better next time, promise! Try it again'

Twin One glowered at his clone for a moment, then turned back to Amaria and attempted the trick again.

'So where is that...'

'...man you were...'

'...busy spending some...'

'..uh...phone credit? with...'

'TwinTwoIwillkillyouifyoudon'tgetthisright...HIS NAME IS SILAS and he is...'

'...uh...hot? White? Naked? Ooh, I know, give me a clue! 3 syllables? A book, a film or a song?'

'...TOO OLD FOR..'

'...joining the Cub Scouts..?' Twin Two trailed off miserably, trying to guess what his clone was attempting to say.

Twin One snarled, and stood up, menacing his twin.

'No! Flesh of my flesh,' cringed Two, shielding his face,'We're the same programme! If you hurt me you'll, like, only be hurting yourself!' he howled. Luckily, at that minute, Amaria grabbed TwinOne by the tie and yanked him right back down again beside her.

'Hey-hey,' she purred, kissing the pasty cyberbino's grey cheeks soothingly,' Calm down, people...and I get what you guys are trying to say,' she cooed amorously,' that Silas guy was too old and weird and ewwww! I can't beleive I ever fell for him! He was icky...!'

'Mmm...true...' Twin One murmured seductively, nuzzling into her graceless white neck.

'Yeah...' mumbled Twin Two, planting lazy kisses on her other cheek,'and I bet he smelt like chicken soup...'

Amaria and Twin One paused and stared at him.

'What? It's an insult!' Twin Two cried indignantly,and trailed slowly off as his eyes met those of the albino man, framed in the doorway like a vengeful messenger of God.

Amaria's jaw dropped.

The air twanged with tension.

But Silas, however, just leaned easily on the doorframe and said:

'You know, if you'd wanted me to sod off and go, you could've just said'

'No! You stabbed me in the back!' Amaria squealed hysterically, all of a sudden.

'What happened to you being a nun?'

'Oh, so you want to pick fights now!'

'No, I...'

'Well, you forgot my birthday!'

'You never told me when it wa...'

'Hey, Mister Selfish, what about MY NEEDS!'

'Well, if you'd told me what they w...'

'I totally don't believe I'm hearing this!'

'That might be cause you aren't actually listeni...'

'I DON'T HAVE TO SIT HERE AND BE INSULTED!'

'I...'

'What do you take me for, a slave!'

'Eh?'

Alas, for a Mary-sue, nothing is ever simple or honest!

Cliches pranced merrily off Amaria's tongue with absolutely no bearing on reality. Incapable of remembering even what she had for breakfast, she had no idea what had even gone on between her and Silas. The close proximity of the immense hotness of the Twins had fucked up her very mechanism, and Silas gave her one last condescending look, before walking slowly and dignifiedly out of the door. The Twins attempted to cope with the squawking Amaria, now shouting gibberish left right and centre.

'Take the pepperpot with you, Mister Banana,' she shreiked, '...and whip out that Count Duckula! Halo on the angels, weedwhacker, and don't forget to slice the walrus sandwich! Lesbian ham with the crusts cut off!'

'Twin One, I think we have a fruitloop on our hands'

'I know, Twin Two, I know!'

-

Peachy thankyous to my reviewers: Griffon's Flight (Heh-heh... 'We are getting aggravated...''We are'), Lady Sarassri (who neglected to leave me a profile so I could PM her with the Mary-Sue weblink:D ! I'd post it here but the site won't allow it), Schemergirl, adeline7g, Kelly Tolkein, BelleEve, Malaysian Gal, Countess Verona Dracula, Littlemissmercy (you do Silas writings? How charmful! And leaving a well-rounded review is yes-thankyou-appreciated, certainly, though I've no objection any other sort...), ShyFX, and Flyingfish15 (And you HAVE to see the Matrix Reloaded, or possibly just the 14 minutes with the Twins in. The movie is a heap of unnecessary toss, but they OWN it for those 14 minutes!)

Chapter dedicated loosely to the delightful albino fellow ('pologies, delightful person with albinism) I bumped into on the London Underground. And just for everyone's information: nobody stares. He wasn't getting any strange looks whatsoever. Maybe just because London is FULL of curious-looking people, but still, no-one even blinked. Hope he's fine, the handsome chap - he seemed friendly :) .

And yes, this story will not be dragging on for much longer - I have only a very small number of chapters/bits planned after this.