Amuse me!

Feb. 25th, 2004 08:50 am
guide_beregond: (I have no idea by RohanDove)
[personal profile] guide_beregond
Beregond: Having found a most satisfying steak house, and eaten my fill. The waitress didn't notice me slip out, and I toss the crumpled bill for my meal at the curb, loping down the sidewalk, well fed and still mellow from the roll with Russell, but now I'm bored again and craving a diversion. Ah. Smith. I'm sure he'd provide some amusement, at least for a short while. *bangs on the door to his workspace, frowing that I can't just pop in since I've lost that very handy program form*



Smith: Smith quickly scans the visitor outside his door, and determines it to be the Beregond impersonator. He sighs in annoyance. Such pests these humans are!

"If I let you come on, will you stop that infernal noise?"

Beregond: "Maybe. Take a chance!" Bouncing on my heels, impatient for amusement, if he's going to be all sullen tonight then I'll just head off to see who else might entertain me.

Smith: A hyper human. Even better. Except not.

"Come in, then! And no bouncing! It makes you look ridiculous."

Beregond: *snorts* I think it makes me look fun. Loosen up, Smith. Whip up a virtual pizza and beer and kick back with me a while! I've already eaten. So. You've got to be pretty damned proud of yourself, I mean... look at me. I'm perfect. *struts and laughs*

Smith: Smith laughs.

"If that's your idea of perfection, then perhaps it's time you found a more standardized compiler that will actually show you all the syntax errors you have." He looks at "Beregond" with disgust. "The only compiler I know that would let you compile without errors belongs to Microsoft."

Beregond: I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Smitty. And I'll have you know I'm neither micro nor soft. *chuckles, waggles eyebrows* Just ask Russell.

Smith: Of course you don't. You don't know much of anything, do you? Can't even catch your own exceptions.

Beregond: *puzzled* Exceptions? I have no idea what you're talking about. *grins, flops on the floor, legs sprawled, wondering why the hell you don't bother with furniture at least for the sake of your guests* I know a lot of things, Smith. They just don't have a thing to do with logic. And I like it that way. *grins, hopes you'll splutter about that*

Smith: *raises an eyebrow* Ah yes, rolling around in the filth of your own ignorance. Why does this not surprise me?

Beregond: *scowls, glances down, twitches a little* Well, I wouldn't call it filth. Just that after-fuck glow. And I am certainly not ignorant. I see things a lot more clearly than I used to. *eyes you* I still have my memories. And I'll tell you here and now, Smith - there's no love for you in me. I was ignorant when I thought I did. I'm smarter now.

Smith: Good to see that your IQ has managed to rise by 0.5. But that's not much of an improvement from its original state at -50, is it?

Beregond: Numbers. Don't you know you can't measure a life's experience in numbers yet, Smith? What good is a digit compared to a really fine steak? And you can't assign a number to a blow job. Oh, wait, maybe you can. I think I'd give the last one I got a nine out of ten. *leers* Know where I can find a ten?

Smith: Wouldn't that question be more suited for one of your kind, who would actually enjoy such time-wasting and useless activities?

Beregond: It's not useless! It's FUN. And it's my time to waste. Come on Smith, be a sport. Blow me. *cracks up laughing*

Smith: Agent Smith smirks and aims a rocket launcher at Beregond.

"So, you want to be blown away?"

Beregond: No. I said Blow Me. Apparently you are ignorant after all. Fine then, don't blow me. There's others who will and I'll be finding them soon. *sighs dramatically* It's really a shame you'll never know the feeling of a good orgasm. I feel sorry for you.

Smith: Then find them and stop wasting my time. You are useless to me.

Beregond: But you aren't useless to ME. You're amusing me right now. I'll stay until you get boring.

Smith: Smith scowls and returns to creating his program.

Beregond: Okay, now you've gotten boring. *walks closer, leans against you, leering* Last chance, Smith. You know, you used to be more fun. Wait, maybe you weren't. I became more fun. Whatever you did, I owe you. I was an idiot before, I mean, thinking I loved you? *laughs* What a.... well, as we say in Minas Tirith, what a crock.

Smith: Yes, you keep repeating that. I think we've both established now that you were an idiot before. You're still an idiot now, but that seems to matter very little to you.

Beregond: *picks up your tie and loops it into a loose floppy knot* I don't care. I'm happy. And if I'm an idiot in your opinion, then so be it. YOU, however... *pokes a finger just above your eyes* have the most amazing forehead I've ever seen! Have you considered renting it out as billboard space?

Smith: My forehead can't possibly compare to the ample space inside that empty skull of yours.

Beregond: *leans forward and plants a loud, sloppy kiss on said forehead* Insult me again. It's amusing. You're pretty good at it, actually.

Smith: *pushes Beregond away* If I weren't a program, I'd worry about the diseases you just transferred with that kiss. Do be careful, Beregond. You forget that I can be very dangerous.

Beregond: Yes. You've been known to bore a man to death. I'm in danger of that right now. Fine, then, don't play nice. Just thought you might like to know how happy I am with the improvements since I crawled back into my own skin. Whatever you did with my frozen form seems to have great results! I've never felt this free!

Smith: Good for you.

Beregond: Good for YOU. This means you finally figured out how to save a person on your metal disks and then restore them, improved. How did you do that, by the way?

Smith: I just used the standard optimization algorithms. I have no idea why you feel so vastly improved. Perhaps your former state was in a far worse disarray than anyone could have imagined.

Beregond: Maybe it was! I know I spent a lot of time wallowing in things that are really quite worthless. *glances at you, a long glance, up and down* Really worthless feelings. I'm much better now. Funny that you don't know how you did it. I thought the Esteemed Agent Smith would know all.

Smith: Information about you hardly deserves that much space in my memory.

Beregond: So, then, your memory is limited? No room for someone like me in there?

Smith: It is not limited, but that is no reason to be wasteful and inefficient.

Beregond: Oh, I get it now. Information about me is WASTEFUL. Fine, then. Your loss. There was a rather nice looking guy down the block from here, big pouty lips, a little gaunt but then the hungry types are easier to coax. I'll be going, and leave you to your.... *chuckles* keyboard.

Smith: Good-bye.

Beregond: It's been... well, it's been. Enjoy your solitude, Smith. I've got better things to do.

Smith: Again with the repetition. You insist that you do not care for me and that you have better things - and people - to do. And yet you still remain here.

Beregond: Actually, I don't remain here. And I do have better people to do. *slams door, which seems to be a new trademark of mine*

Smith: *sighs* *sends out a small bot to repair the slight scratch made to the door's frame*
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