"You are a very nice girl,"

… to thrust into a trash compactor...

 " And I guess all this was not technically your fault,"

…bahaha... uh...wait a minute…

"After all, it was the Merovingian who programmed you..."

…fuck, that's true..

"And you are simply doing what he has written for you to do."

…DAMNIT THAT'S RIGHT…

…I'm sorry...

" STUPID MEROVINGIAN BASTARD! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

Both Samantha and Two raised an eyebrow.

Shit. He had gotten confused again. Oh well.

One immediately began to review everything he had just discovered. Yes, it was true that Samantha was hell in a hot-dog bun, but the Merovingian programmed her to be that way. Everything they had been experiencing, everything they were forced to endure, it was his entire fault. That goddamn fairy in an Italian suit needed to experience some serious pain.

Ideas began to buzz around in One's head as if they were little fruit flies and his brain was a pruney pear. Good Ideas. Ideas that made One's trembling lips coil into an adorable yet somewhat disturbing grin. He never really fancied himself overly intelligent, he'd rather consider himself deadly attractive and Bad Ass. However the little plans that were beginning to sprout forced One to come to the conclusion that he was a fucking genius.

Two and Samantha looked at each other, and then back at "saddle boy", who had been quiet now for about 10 minutes. His lips moved occasionally, silently mouthing something, and then he would abruptly expel a wave of insane laughter before suddenly quieting down again. His bulgy eyes were fixated on a particular spot in the wall, as if by staring at it he would receive the answers to all life's questions.

"Yourz brotha twitches a lot. I thinks hez stoopid"

Two briefly considered defending his Twin before deciding to completely yet wordlessly agree.  

"This gamez sucks," Samantha continued, eyes still fixated on the quivering idiot before them.  "Uncle Merovingian saids that youz two woulds be sum fun. Buts youz never play dah game fer long. And Uncle Merovingian nevers come to plays wif me either. He jus says he'll come laters buts never does."

Two slowly turned his head towards the child, a carefully groomed eyebrow rising behind his sunglasses. It appeared the midget was pouring her heart of to him, and since it was apparent she didn't have much of a heart to begin with he imagined the outburst wouldn't take long. He decided to listen.

"I'm tireds of playing by myself. I'm tireds of jus waiting heres." Samantha's voice then became darker, more sinister, almost as if she had been concealing a greater maturity for them all along. Most disturbing. "He lies to me. I don'ts like uncles whoz lies."

It was then that One snapped his head in their direction, more particularly in the direction of Samantha. Two guessed that whatever she was saying struck a nerve in that shriveled lint-ball his brother called a brain. He strode towards them, and bent down so that he was eye level with the child.

"You're angry at him, you would say then?" One asked slowly.

Samantha simply nodded vigorously, a fish-like pout beginning to form.

"As are we. It is clear that perhaps we have both been manipulated here for the Merovingian's gain."

Two was intrigued. Not only was One making sense (which was something he rarely did, especially when his clothes were dirty), but he was speaking to the child as if she was an equal. Interesting.

"I have a proposal for you Samantha. If you play your part in it, I can guarantee that you will get something that I think you want very much."

The child looked up at the twin, however her child-like gaze had melted off into a mischievous grin that only the most sophisticated high-priced lawyer could pull off.

"However," One continued carefully, "you will need to give me that Master Key around your neck. I promise I will not use it without fulfilling my part of the agreement."

Samantha tilted her head to the side. "Hows can I bes so sures youz nots lying to mez like my uncle?"

Smart. Very Smart.

"Because," One answered, "I give you my word as a Wicked Cool Mutha Fucka Bad Ass Assassin."

"Oh. Okay."

**********************************************************************

The Merovingian yawned and scratched his refined derriere as he exited the tanning room of the Pretty Betsy Nail Salon. Normally a nail salon would not offer regular tanning sessions, however the Merovingian had decided to re-program the humble abode so that it could "better suit his needs." He seemed to use that excuse a lot in life.

Smiling, the Merovingian examined his now glistening orange skin, pleased with the results of spending four hours in the cancer box. He re-wrapped his body in the fluffy pink bathrobe he was wearing earlier so that he looked like some sort of exotic sushi.

"Mr. Merovingian?" A voluptuous attendant was standing in the doorway, holding various bottles of moisturizer. "You wanted me to tell you when 6 hou-"

"Is it that time already?" The Merovingian interrupted, grabbing one of the bottles from her hands and unscrewing the lid to smell the delicious peach-imitated scent. He was always sure to follow the three rules he had instilled for himself in becoming one of the most powerful programs in the Matrix. One: to always be five…gazillion steps ahead of your enemies. Two: to never let your wife know that you had more varieties of bubble bath than she did. And Three: moisturize, moisturize, moisturize!

"Yes sir, it is that time."

"Excellent." The Merovingian dipped his finger into the bottle and carefully rubbed some lotion onto his T-zone as he followed the young woman to the door the Twins had entered nearly 6 hours before. He was sure that either he would find the Twins in some sort of induced Zen after learning how to handle such a stressful situation, or they would be a quivering drooling mess in the corner. Either way would provide some entertainment.

Still clutching the bottle of moisture as if it were a newborn infant, the Merovingian took out a key from the bathrobe pocket and put it into the simple golden lock- turning slowly. Perhaps this test was extreme, but that twit program Samantha would never leave him alone if he didn't deliver someone for her to play with. Besides, he was convinced the Twins wouldn't have wanted to wait 6 hours in the waiting room for him anyway.

The door slowly creaked open and the Merovingian stepped inside, briefly glancing back at the salon attendants who were preparing for his FULL body exfoliation treatment. He was always careful to lift all the dead skin cells from every single body part imaginable. Perhaps afterwards he would consider a bikini wax. After all, it was beach season.

Satisfied with their preparations, he closed the door behind him.

However, once fully inside the room the Merovingian was surprised at the darkness that surrounded him. There was not a single light to be seen, and he briefly wondered if he had used the wrong key and entered some sort of default setting. He could not even see his manicured hands in front of his perfectly framed eyes. 

Grumbling in French, the Merovingian fumbled around in his bathrobe pockets for another key to exit the program. It was then that he heard what sounded like a high-pitched giggle from somewhere in the distance. He stopped his searching immediately and tried his best to correct his code from letting the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"Allo?" he asked, licking his lips nervously.

Silence.

A little more desperate to leave now, the Merovingian tried his other pocket. He began to absently sing softly in an effort of comfort himself.

"I'm not a giiirrl.. Not Yet a womannn."

The Merovingian froze when he heard the chilling laughter again. It seemed to almost slither through the air like an inky serpent.   

He cursed himself for only bringing a bottle of moisturizer for protection.

"Allo? Who is there?" he almost stammered.

"NOW!"

Before the Merovingian could tell what was happening he was grabbed roughly from behind, his expensive bottle of lotion springing out of his hands and spilling all over the carpet. The key he used to enter was snatched out of his palm, while is pockets were frisked simultaneously for his other keys. The last thing the Merovingian remembered was something heavy whacking him on the head that screeched "PET ME!"

*********************************************************************

"Wakes up sweepy heads!"

The Merovingian groaned as his eyes fluttered open slowly. The room was blurry; almost as if it were covered in some sort of thick fog. His head throbbed with unimaginable pain, each blood vessel practically screamed under the surface of his skin.

"I SAID WAKES UP!" The squealing voice sounded again, and the Merovingian was promptly slapped in the face.

"OW!"

That slap forced the room into focus and he gasped with horror as he recognized the glittery walls and bubble-gum pink carpet. His eyes then settled on the small child with abnormally big eyes and crooked teeth smiling like an ax-murderer and sitting across from him. Her grin was so big that she must have cracked several hundred dimples producing it.

It was then that the Merovingian realized he was tied quite tightly to a chair.

A very very small chair.

"Oh merde…" he whispered.

"Yoo hoo! Over here you ass!"

The Merovingian turned his head towards the calls but only chocked with terror at the sight he saw before him. There stood both the Twins, a fiendish smile gracing their lips and the key to get out of the room twirling around One's finger.  They were casually standing by an open door that led to the salon, Two's foot halfway through the exit.

The Merovingian began to sweat through his bathrobe.

"We're so sorry to leave you now," Two purred, "but I'm afraid that we're spent quite enough time here. After all, I know Samantha can't wait to get her hands on you."

"You WOULD'NT!" The Merovingian spat, shaking in his seat.

"Oh we would."

"And we're sure you will acquire some new talents upon the conclusion of your time here."

"If there IS a conclusion."

"Now if you'll excuse us, we're off to have some fun with your bank accounts."

"Taa-taa Samantha! We'll do lunch sometime!"

With that the Twins glided through the exit, One humming a familiar Mentos song loudly and Two doing some deranged version of the Cha-Cha, before they slammed the door loudly. The noise quaked through the room, echoing off the massive sparkly walls.

The Merovingian whimpered, resisted the urge to scream like a girl and then hesitantly turned his head back towards the child's direction; half hoping it was all a dream. Samantha was still there, grinning even more widely than before, and clutching what looked like a small empty container of sorts.

"Tea?"

*******************************************************************

 "Well that was fun."

"Indeed."

"But I do recall a promise you made to me that we are now free to fulfill." One squirmed a bit, clearly anticipating something greatly. Almost as if he were a child himself…

Two sighed knowingly, and turned to his brother, clapping him on the back affectionately as they headed for the salon doors.

"Bun-poking?"

"FUCK YEAH!"

The Twins closed the door behind them, the clang of its metal frame producing a bell like sound that tingled throughout the store. The now seventeen attendants and three people sitting in the waiting room simply stared after the two strange customers as they walked down the street and out of sight. All of them could only think and wonder one thing; Why did one of them have a glittery pink saddle strapped around his waist?

THE END