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A. Smith: OMG. OMFG.
Merovingian: Ah, Mon Cher Smith! Happy holidays. I take it you received our little gift?
A. Smith: You crazy fucking frog - What the hell did you put in that cake!? It's been 48 hours after I ate the thing and I am still twitching so badly I can barely type.
Merovingian: Oh, Monsieur - did you not read the warning label?
A. Smith: Yeah. Big help it was, putting the label 'Warning: Very potent. Eat only in small servings (1 oz. per adult)' at the BOTTOM OF THE GODDAMN BOX!!!! Christ!
Merovingian: Mon deiu. You ... you ate the WHOLE thing at once?! This is most unprecedented. It's many, many times the lethal dose for humans
A. Smith: YES I THINK I FIGURED THAT OUT after that six hour continuous orgasm.
Merovingian: And you live to tell the tale!
A. Smith: Yeah. Christ. You have no idea the level of sustained abuse the prostate gland can endure and yet remain functional. Uh. UHM. Aw ... damn. BRB.
A. Smith: God damn it, that's the seventh suit I've ruined since I ate your cake.
A. Smith: Laugh it up, Frenchie. Soon as I can walk again, I'll - DAMN. BRB.
Merovingian: Eight, I presume?
A. Smith: Bastard.
Fortunately, with over 100 roommates my size, I can steal clean clothes with relative ease. But I think the other Agents are getting suspicious. Smith #55 was out clubbing the night before and came back furious at "the cum-stained douchebag who used my suit as his jizz-rag."
Memo to self: Check own clothing before entering clubs with neon/florescent lights to avoid embarassment.