[Heya Smith Fans! Agent Smith is back by popular demand in his most difficult assignment to date. Please, sit back and enjoy yourselves as Agent Smith Studies Women (Well, tries to). - Troll]
Agent Smith Studies: Women
He'd been slapped five times that night as he had attempted to convince a "lucky" lady to retire with him to his "crib" so that he might study her physiology in more detail.
"This is proving more difficult than I had anticipated." Agent Smith mused aloud. As he returned to the clubs bar where his associates Jones and Brown were seated with bemused expressions on their faces, nursing icy beers.
"Perhaps they find your outfit threatening?" Jones ventured, covering a smirk by sipping his drink.
"What's wrong with my suit?" Smith asked, his face briefly showing his hurt before he erased the emotion and resumed his normal expression; severe displeasure.
"Nothing, it is merely not the kind of attire one would wear at a, ahem, "club" scene." Brown informed him.
"Then let us find something more suitable." He laughed at his own wit. The other two Agents exchanged worried glances, then coughed politely.
"Suit-able. Come on, it was amusing." Smith said.
Silence.
Smith glowered. "Come then, let us find more "appropriate" attire."
*******
Five minutes and a small shopping spree later....
*******
"I still don't think purple is my colour..." Brown muttered as they boldly made their way back to the bar. His pimp-esque floppy hat fell over his eyes again, then he tripped over his baggy pants.
"Desist your complaining "homie", we are here to "score", stop being such a baby." Jones told him. He was wearing a sleeveless black top, with scruffy denim jeans, he still however retained his hair style and shades.
"Quiet, the both of you, I am going to try again." Smith puffed out his chest, then readjusted his backwards baseball cap, hitched up his cargo pants, which had slid down over his boxers and made his way towards the nearest lady.
She was dancing, then flicked her long dark hair behind her shoulder as she saw another idiot approach.
Smith cleared his throat as he stood next to her. She ignored him.
"Hey "baby" what say you and me go back to my place so you can "shake your booty" for me and I can study you more closely?" He said with an air of confidence.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Listen bud, if you don't leave me alone I'll get security over here and they'll throw your bitch ass outta here." She turned to leave.
"Uh, sure." Smith couldn't help but feel disappointed. He dejectedly walked back to his companions.
"Well?" Jones asked him.
"She was a lesbian." Smith said, not wanting to lose face.
"Another one?" Brown asked sorrowfully. He took a swill of his beer.
"Yes."
Jones stood up and stretched his arms, flexing muscles.
"I would like to attempt this experiment. Smith, sit down." Smith snatched away Jones' beer, and watched with humour as Jones made his way into the dance floor.
He will not suceed. Smith thought to himself, after all, if I cannot convince a woman, what are his chances?
*******
Minutes passed. Much beer was consumed, along with some peanuts.
*******
"Where do you suppose he is?" Brown asked Smith.
"Still on the dance floor. Wait. There he is." Smith pointed to Jones, who was being led to the clubs exit by a beautiful woman. Jones saw him, and with his free hand gave the 'thumbs up' signal, a large grin on his face.
Smith and Brown sat with open jaws as Jones left.
"Son of a bitch!" They both exclaimed at the same time.
"Well my friend,' Smith said to Brown after a while, 'It would appear that we will never understand women." Brown raised his glass.
"Here's to bachelors."
"I'll drink to that." Smith said.
[ As a side note I would like to say to all those people who are going to say "Poor Smith, he didn't get any." fear not, as Jones didn't either. You see the woman that he had "convinced" took him back to her apartment and had just taken off his pants when her husband arrived on the scene. Here's what happened:
Jones grabbed his pants and made a run for the door, dodging thrown crockery as he did so.
"If I ever catch you with my wife again I'll kill you punk!" The woman's husband called as Jones fled down the corridor, pants clutched tightly to his chest.
He ran for a few minutes, then Smith and Brown appeared, having just left the club.
They all stopped.
"Well, well, well." Smith said, looking up and down at Jones.
"Why aren't you wearing any pants?" Brown asked.
"The woman had a husband." Jones said in explanation.
"Not such a ladies man then are we Jones?" Smith smirked.
****
Coming soon: Agent Smith Studies: Art
- Troll]