The collector

I sat at a bar and the rotten stench of spilled beer and cigarette ashes was everywhere. My contact approached me and I recognized his face immediately.
"How are you my friend?" He said with that thick Slavic tone I had known for 18 years.
"Alright. Last night was better," I said.
"tell me about it," he said.
So I began:
Into the mouth of the beast I looked. He was drooling but asleep, and his nose sniffed the air every 2 minutes or so.
Unfortunately fortunately, I was covered in his urine from the mud pile next to his cage. He had no idea I was anything but him.
At a closer glance, I noticed he was also so old and senile that he wouldn't have chased a Nazi screaming "Heil Hitler!" in his face.
I ran for the "secret room" I had seen earlier that day on a tour of the grounds. I had to avoid both security and "old un-reliable," but everything seemed pretty standard and routine so work went like clockwork.
It all seemed a little easy considering the guards were conveniently preoccupied with a temperature change in an art aquarium.
Art nuts, I'll never get it.
I grabbed the chip without problem. I didn't even have to move the statue but unfortunately for me, I wasn't alone.
She looked into my eyes and winked.
"Okay, let's go," I thought to myself.
We danced so hard the walls of the art preserve turned into lead slug tapestries. When we met in the middle she kissed me loud enough and quick enough to hear the bang, and her knees hitting the floor for the last time.
The rest of the night was pretty good.