Agent Smith Studies: Drugs
"Such monotony. I do not understand why they continue to go on." Smith was saying as Agents Brown, Jones and himself were walking down a tightly packed city street, however people tended to move out of their way, not wanting to disrupt these men who seemed so full of purpose.
"I understand that they break up such monotony with diversions, such as recreational activities and hobbies." Brown looked around at the stony faces around him. Humans are so dull and predictable, he thought.
"Narcotics and various other medicinal substances are used to fend off boredom, at least thats what the historical records show. Apparently a whole culture based around drug-use sprung up during their early history. They called them 'Hippies'." Agent Jones read from a small palm-top computer. They must appear normal, discrete.
Inconspicuous.
"Drugs." An interesting concept Smith thought, perhaps even worth studying.
"There." Jones pointed at a man in the street, he was wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt and a faded brown beanie. "He is what they call a Hippie. He will know where we may find out about drugs."
"I will handle this." Smith said. He uploaded 'Drug Slang' into his vocabulary, and walked over to the man.
Smith cleared his throat. The man took one look at his suit, sunglasses and earpiece and ran.
He wasn't fast enough.
Smith held the man by the collar of his shirt, about a foot off the ground.
"Whoah man! No need to be doin' that. I don't got any gear on me, put me down! I wanna lawyer!" The man alternated between begging for his freedom and demanding it.
"Do not worry Mr Jenson. Everything is 'cool', I'm not here to 'bust a cap in your bitch-ass'. I merely wish to purchase some of your 'shit'. Do you 'get me'?" Smith's face was absolutely straight, his voice deadly serious. He put the hippy down.
The hippy relaxed. "Sure man, I can get you a fix. Come with me." He gestured for the Agents to follow him. He led them into an alley.
"Shop is open boys, unfortunately 'cause some pigs busted my stash this morning I only got a few joints. Will that do?" He pulled three joints out of his pocket and brushed them off.
Brown turned his head slightly towards Jones and whispered, "Did you understand anything he just said?"
Jones shook his head slightly. "Smith will handle it."
Brown nodded his understanding.
"Yes, these will suffice." Smith snatched the joints out of the hippy's hand and began to walk away.
"Hey man! Give that shit back you ain't paid for it yet!" The hippy started after Smith, who, quick as a flash, whipped out his pistol and shot the hippy in the head.
"Hmm, so that is bustin' a cap in someone's ass." He said as the body slumped to the ground.
"Come, let us find somewhere private to try this 'gear'." Smith's two colleagues followed him as he left the hippy and the alley behind.
*******
"Whoah." Brown was sitting in a corner looking at his hands in wonder, a look of bliss upon his normally expressionless face, muttering to himself.
Jones came running past, pistol blaring behind him as he attempted to shoot 'the funny pink elephant' that was chasing him.
"Help me! The oranges are preparing for a counter attack!" He shouted as he leapt over a sofa, using it as a barricade.
Smith watched with bemusement from the apartments small kitchen. "They've gone completely mad. Surely these drugs are powerful things. But unlike them I am more powerful. More in control. Isn't that right Mr Spoon."
Mr Spoon jumped onto Smith's shoulder.
"Yes. You are." The spoon giggled maniacally at the scene surrounding it.
Then Smith had an interesting thought.
There was no spoon.
[I hope you all enjoyed that one. The views and actions expressed by Agent Smith, ie, killing hippies, does not in any way reflect my opinion. But can you guess what the moral of the story is? Thats right, don't do drugs. Cause drugs are bad M'kay? - Troll]
"Such monotony. I do not understand why they continue to go on." Smith was saying as Agents Brown, Jones and himself were walking down a tightly packed city street, however people tended to move out of their way, not wanting to disrupt these men who seemed so full of purpose.
"I understand that they break up such monotony with diversions, such as recreational activities and hobbies." Brown looked around at the stony faces around him. Humans are so dull and predictable, he thought.
"Narcotics and various other medicinal substances are used to fend off boredom, at least thats what the historical records show. Apparently a whole culture based around drug-use sprung up during their early history. They called them 'Hippies'." Agent Jones read from a small palm-top computer. They must appear normal, discrete.
Inconspicuous.
"Drugs." An interesting concept Smith thought, perhaps even worth studying.
"There." Jones pointed at a man in the street, he was wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt and a faded brown beanie. "He is what they call a Hippie. He will know where we may find out about drugs."
"I will handle this." Smith said. He uploaded 'Drug Slang' into his vocabulary, and walked over to the man.
Smith cleared his throat. The man took one look at his suit, sunglasses and earpiece and ran.
He wasn't fast enough.
Smith held the man by the collar of his shirt, about a foot off the ground.
"Whoah man! No need to be doin' that. I don't got any gear on me, put me down! I wanna lawyer!" The man alternated between begging for his freedom and demanding it.
"Do not worry Mr Jenson. Everything is 'cool', I'm not here to 'bust a cap in your bitch-ass'. I merely wish to purchase some of your 'shit'. Do you 'get me'?" Smith's face was absolutely straight, his voice deadly serious. He put the hippy down.
The hippy relaxed. "Sure man, I can get you a fix. Come with me." He gestured for the Agents to follow him. He led them into an alley.
"Shop is open boys, unfortunately 'cause some pigs busted my stash this morning I only got a few joints. Will that do?" He pulled three joints out of his pocket and brushed them off.
Brown turned his head slightly towards Jones and whispered, "Did you understand anything he just said?"
Jones shook his head slightly. "Smith will handle it."
Brown nodded his understanding.
"Yes, these will suffice." Smith snatched the joints out of the hippy's hand and began to walk away.
"Hey man! Give that shit back you ain't paid for it yet!" The hippy started after Smith, who, quick as a flash, whipped out his pistol and shot the hippy in the head.
"Hmm, so that is bustin' a cap in someone's ass." He said as the body slumped to the ground.
"Come, let us find somewhere private to try this 'gear'." Smith's two colleagues followed him as he left the hippy and the alley behind.
*******
"Whoah." Brown was sitting in a corner looking at his hands in wonder, a look of bliss upon his normally expressionless face, muttering to himself.
Jones came running past, pistol blaring behind him as he attempted to shoot 'the funny pink elephant' that was chasing him.
"Help me! The oranges are preparing for a counter attack!" He shouted as he leapt over a sofa, using it as a barricade.
Smith watched with bemusement from the apartments small kitchen. "They've gone completely mad. Surely these drugs are powerful things. But unlike them I am more powerful. More in control. Isn't that right Mr Spoon."
Mr Spoon jumped onto Smith's shoulder.
"Yes. You are." The spoon giggled maniacally at the scene surrounding it.
Then Smith had an interesting thought.
There was no spoon.
[I hope you all enjoyed that one. The views and actions expressed by Agent Smith, ie, killing hippies, does not in any way reflect my opinion. But can you guess what the moral of the story is? Thats right, don't do drugs. Cause drugs are bad M'kay? - Troll]