Mona Lisa Fart

Bruce Doyle, a horrible little man who usually wore his social mask well, proceeded to stalk his prey with all the subtlety of a toddler eating its birthday cake with it's hands.

Bruce leaned over to his date, and asked "say, wanna go home and fuck now?".

She stared at him, and the corner of her mouth raised in a sneer for such a short interval, Bruce missed it by blinking.

His date, a pale skinned raven haired beauty who reminded Bruce of a young Kim Cattrall momentarily shrugged off his brazen jackass advances by saying "I'm looking at the paintings".

For indeed, they were at an art museum looking at the Davinci exhibit.
At least his date was.
Bruce was merely at the museum.

When they got to "the last supper", Bruce asked again.

She paused, and said in an almost sad resigned tone "I suppose. ...but it won't be good sex".

When they got to the Mona Lisa, Bruce leaned over to her, and said "say, what's that smell?".

Two pale smirks looked back at him.
One of which he missed by blinking.

THE END.