Chapter 3

Nny

"Well, here we are in one of the raving whacko's cavernous basements..." Sam laughed and ruffled Max's ears. "Those little styrofoam Doughboys sure were pushovers, eh Max?"

"The one with the dirty word on his tummy tasted like cinnamon buns!"

"Heh, 'nothin' says lovin' like somethin' from the oven!'"

Max belched and coughed up a twitching styrofoam arm. Stomping it into little more than a few non-biodegradable squeaky bits, Max warned "Never quote retro commercials again if you want to live to see your next birthday, Sam."

"You're an adorable hellspawn, Max!" Sam joked.

And so, Sam & Max began searching through the many, MANY basements of 777, searching for everyone's favorite schizophrenic loony. As Sam kicked open yet another unlocked door (Sam likes kicking doors open) to reveal another dark and empty room, Max huffed and folded his arms.

"Awww, this is pointless!" he moped, ears flopping down over his face, "We've gone through roughly 67 basements by now and still no sign of any crazy people! I mean, SURE, the torture devices were kind of neat at FIRST, but where's the fun if there's no babbling schizos itching for a chance to use 'em on you?"

"Cheer up, Max!" Sam entered the room and looked around vaguely. "I'm sure we'll find him eventually..." Kneeling down by a long-forgotten skeleton in the shadows, he chuckled "Watch this, Max! You'll like it!"

Max perked his ears back up and watched Sam fervently in hopes of something to catch his short-lived attention span. Sam turned around with a goofy smile on his face and a skull perched on his hand like a hideous, grotesque puppet.

"Oh! Hi there, Max!" Sam said in a squeaky voice, moving his hand like a mouth, "I'm Señor Bonehead! How are you doing today?"

Max hopped up and down excitedly, waving his hands about. "That's funny, Sam! Now make 'im talk in a British accent!"

"Oh okay... 'allo, there, mayte!"

"Nah, that's more of an Australian accent, Sam..."

"Yeah, I guess. Hey, look at this!"

After tossing the skull behind his back (with a loud cracking noise), Sam reached down and wiggled the legs of the skeleton around while humming a can-can dance tune. Max collapsed to the floor in hysterics.

"WHAT THE $# ARE YOU DOING?"

Sam smiled up at the very anemic-looking man who had just stormed into the room. "Just disrespecting the memory of the deceased as best we can, that's all! And watch your $#ing mouth, pal! This is a #$ing PG story!"

"Now YOU'RE doing it, Sam! It's like a $#ing epidemic!"

Horrified, malevolent anger flashing in his enormous eyes, Johnny stomped forward, demanding "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE, #$ IT?"

Holding out his hands defensively, Sam said "Calm down, buddy. We're Sam & Max: Freelance Police. We've been hired to send your keister to the big house!" Johnny's already wide eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

"GEEZE!" said a shocked Max, "You're a skinny boy, aincha? And lookit the size of those EYES! Do you have some kind of horrendous physical ailment or something?"

"Now, now, Max," Sam chided, "He's probably just a perfectly healthy, well-meaning druggie!"

Jutting out his jaw and shivering with rage, Johnny C. grabbed a mallet from the corner of the room and swung it full force at our heroes... starting with Max.

"Isn't that cute, Max?" Sam said, "Another raving lunatic is trying to crack open your head!"

"I think I'll keep 'im, Sam!" said Max.

"Good luck cracking that skull open, pal," Sam laughed to Johnny, "That thing's tougher than diamond. Though, I wouldn't suggest trying. There's a scientific theory that, due to Max's overwhelming density, if his cranium were ever smashed open like some sort of gorey piñata, his mental vacuum would create a black hole powerful enough to destroy the very Universe itself!"

Johnny gawked blankly at Max. "Really?" he gasped.

"Yep!" Max answered.

With an insane smile, Johnny cried "COOL!" and set to work trying to bash Max's head in with a renewed strength.

"Tee hee hee!" Max giggled, "It tickles, Sam!"

Finally, gasping for breath, Johnny set the mallet down. Max snorted.

"HAH! Giving up already? You sissy!"

Johnny narrowed his eyes, reaching for a rope that was hanging from the ceiling. "Not exactly..."

Sam and Max instinctively looked up to see a strange black, metallic shape looming over them.

"Huh, well lookit that, Max! It's one o' them big, ol' cartoony anvils!"

"How cliché..."

The rope was pulled. The anvil fell. This caused them to black out.