A/N to Kitty Gaby: The picture idea didn't work – FF doesn't allow links to be posted.
A/N to Actionmax: You're goin' down!
Ahem.
Day Eight.
Claude, CJ and Tommy walked out of the door of their quarters, while Woozie walked into it.
"Ow! Dammit! I can't seem to do a damn thing here! Where the hell is my assistant?"
"Uh, he was forced to leave last night because you didn't know who he was." said Tommy groggily.
"Wait a minute. . .that was Su Xi?"
"Oh, the fucking pain." a voice interrupted.
"Ah, sounds like Max is up." said Carl.
My head ached. I felt like someone was playing the snare drum in the funeral pro. . .oh wait, I said that one already.
Max pulled out a small notebook, and squinted at a page.
My head ached. I felt like I was being hit repeatedly with a hammer.
Well that wasn't very good. . .
"Good morning, Max!" said Tommy suspiciously cheerfully.
"Uhhhh?" groaned Max.
"Capital." says Carl equally suspiciously, but this time in an English accent.
"Why are you all being so nice to me? And why does Carl have an English accent?"
Woozie said something in Chinese.
"You people are all crazy." Max slowly stood up. "Except this guy." He walked over to Claude. "This guy hasn't said or done anything to hurt me."
Max put his arm around Claude.
Claude hit Max with a cleverly concealed shovel.
Max slumped to the floor, weary but still concious.
I looked on at my attacker. Once again, I felt as though I had been betrayed. He was the quiet one, like the guy who lures you into his shed with promises of candy one day when I was six.
But now I saw him for what he was. He was not the strong, silent person I thought he was. He never really had any candy in that shed. . .
"Let's bury him." said Tommy.
"Noooo!" yelled Max.
Claude tossed the shovel to Carl, the recoil causing him to swing it backwards, hitting Woozie in the stomach.
Carl stood in front of Woozie and pointed to Tommy accusingly.
"Carl, you idiot. He's blind. He didn't see you."
"Oh, yeah. So he doesn't know it was me?"
Woozie punched Carl in the face.
"I'm blind, not deaf, jackass!"
Max had just got to his knees at this point when Claude hit him with the same frying pan he had been carrying since yesterday.
The sound rang out in Max's head like an -
Like an ambulance siren wailing as it speeds to my rescue, only to arrive minutes too late.
Max smiled smugly, happy he had managed to say the line.
Claude hit him again.
Max was angry now. "What is up with this guy hitting me with things? Is it "beat the crap outta Max Payne day" or something?"
Claude walked to the other room and came back holding a calender. He pointed to today's entry.
"Hit people with kitchen utensils day?"
Claude nodded.
"Isn't that your handwriting, Claude?"
Claude quickly scrunched up the calender and put it in his pocket.
He looked around, then hit Max with the frying pan again.
It occurs to me that Max is spending most of his time here unconscious. . .
Claude spun around quickly, smashing the loudspeaker to pieces with his kitchen based weapon. A maniacal grin crossed his face, and he was filled joy. But he was not content yet. . .
"C. . .Claude. . ." said Carl. "G. . .give me the frying pan, Claude, before someone important gets hurt."
Carl clutched at his head as the satisfying metal clang rang out.
"OH FUCK THE PAIN!" he screamed.
Tommy watched as Carl danced around the room with his hands over his head and grimaced as he saw him trip over a stool.
"OH FUCK THE PAIN!" screamed Carl.
As Tommy looked on, Claude approached him from behind, twirling the frying pan in his grasp, holding it firmly by the handle.
Then he struck.
Clang!
"Ow, Dammit!" yelled Tommy as he fell forward, colliding with the edge of the table with a dull thud on the way.
Claude looked around him, counting the bodies of his unconscious room mates. One, two, three? But weren't there four people here?
Ah. Woozie.
Claude approached Woozie from his front.
Woozie did not stir, being blind and all.
Claude swung the weapon, listening for the clang, but the only sound that filled the air was a faint swishing noise as the frying pan missed Woozie's face by inches. It didn't look like he noticed.
Claude swung again.
Missed.
Again.
Swish.
AGAIN!
NOTHING!
Dejected, Claude looked on as Woozie turned and walked away, unaware of anything.
Claude watched as Woozie tripped over Max's body and fell face first into the hole which hadn't been covered up.
Claude smiled evilly, picked up the shovel, and began throwing dirt into the hole on top of Woozie.
Claude, please don't bury our guests.
Claude gave the finger to a nearby camera, then destroyed it with the frying pan.
A thought occurred. Hadn't he just destroyed the loudspeaker moments ago?
In case you're wondering, we do have more than one loudspeaker.
Claude nodded, and continued shovelling dirt.
Just behind him, Max started to regain conciousness. He rolled from side to side like a turtle, and eventually managed to flip himself over and stand up. He saw Claude piling dirt into the hole.
Where was he getting the dirt from?
No.
No time for those kinds of thoughts, someone's life could be at risk. And for once it wasn't his own.
I slowly raised myself up and -
Claude thought he heard a voice and turned around.
Max quickly threw himself to the ground and pretended to be unconscious.
Claude shrugged and continued his work.
Max sighed in relief, and decided to reduce his ramblings to a quiet whisper.
I slowly raised myself up and stood silently. Dammit, my handwriting is hard to read. . .
No.
Not now.
This is important.
I stepped around carefully, as if the floor were covered in land mines.
POW! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
I STEPPED ON A MINE AND -
SHIT! Hit the deck, he's turning round!
I played dead, as if the explosion from the mine had killed me.
Claude listened to Max talking, but assumed he was just rambling in his sleep again.
I awoke from my supposedly endless slumber. The bodies of my fallen comrades littered the battlefield.
It was up to me to stop the evil alien warrior overlord Claude from taking over Earth with his band of mutant ninja supermen, and to save the damsel in distress himself, Woozie.
Cue cheesy cinematic music.
Dun dun, dundundun dun, dundundun dun, dundundun da da da!
Max climbed the stairs (from the opposite end from the hole, it's a special made-up stair set) and watched.
James Bond, MacGyver, and Spongebob Squarepants all rolled into one, I am.
He found a convenient washing line trailing from one end of the room to the next, well above head height if you are on ground level, but just in reach from the top of the stairs if you lean over a bit. . .
The perfect zip-line.
Max fought with his belt buckle and undid his belt. He held it above him triumphantly.
He threw one end around the line and grabbed it in both hands like a zip-line, and climbed onto the railing on the stairs which forced him to crouch to avoid hitting the ceiling.
You can do this.
Cue Bullet-Time special effect.
Time somehow slowed down.
Max let himself drop from his position. As he did so, his trousers fell to his ankles, and the washing line zip-line snapped. Max quickly grabbed onto the wire and swung himself like Tarzan from the ceiling.
He suppressed the urge to start pounding his chest and roaring.
Thank God.
Max swung past Claude, over his head, smashed into the wall opposite with amazing force leaving a Max-shaped dent in it, and swung back. He lost his grip half way, and fell, cursing and shouting, directly on top of Claude.
Max stared at the wall, admiring his dent.
For I must dent this world. I am a dent. I am THE dent. Heh.
"Ow, get off me you fat fuck!"
Wait a minute, Claude, did you just speak?
"Uh. . .no."
Oh. Must have been mistaken.
Max twirled his finger by the side of his head to imply Lazlow was crazy.
Claude nodded in agreement.
Max produced his handcuffs, cuffed Claude, led him to a chair, and cuffed him to the chair also.
Claude was now helpless.
Nice job, Max, but did you have to tape his mouth shut?
"I guess not." Max tore the tape from Claude's mouth.
"So what do you think now, Mr Patin?(Ryando will get the name reference) Not so tough outside your shed, eh?"
Claude looked on, bewildered.
No, stoppit, Max, stoppit. Repressed childhood memories stay repressed.
But I -
NO!
I just wanted -
That's enough!
But -
No buts!
FINE! I HATE YOU!
Max. . .Max. . .stop that. You're daydreaming again, Max. Have you been taking drugs? Have you been licking next door's toads again, Max? I warned you about that.
Uh, Max?
LALALALALALALALA!
Max put his fingers in his ears and continued to ramble.
He later fell to the ground, curled up in a ball and shaking.
Now he was sucking his thumb and crying.
Claude rocked the chair from side to side, trying to obtain the frying pan on the table adjacent, but it was out of reach.
Claude. I think you have a problem.
Claude shook his head violently.
You seem to have some sort of obsession with hitting people with that frying pan. I think it would be best if we got rid of it.
Claude slumped in the chair, his eyes sparkly with tears.
The stage hand guy appeared and reached for the weapon.
Claude hissed at him, and forced him to back off.
Max, now finished crying, stood up and immediately fell down the hole.
He emerged from the hole shortly after, covered in dirt, with Woozie trailing behind him, barely awake.
Max walked up to Claude.
"It was a nice plan. But maybe it was a little too perfect." Max reached out to stroke Claude's hair.
Claude bit him.
"OW! BASTARD! I told you we should have kept the tape on!"
What do we do with him?
"I don't know. . . Death penalty?"
Uuuh. . .too extreme.
"It worked on me when I got addicted to Valkyr. Now I never touch the stuff. That green, bubbly, delightful stuff. . .I have to have some! DO YOU HAVE ANY! DON'T LIE TO ME, LESLIE!"
Uh. . .it's Lazlow.
"What about rehabilitation?" asked Woozie.
"Woozie, it's pronounced "Valkyr"."
Woozie ignored Max. "What do you think, Lazlow? It might even work for Max."
Well. . .I'm still considering the death penalty for Max, but it doesn't sound like a bad idea for Claude.
Hey, Claude, what do you think of the idea?
Claude started to rock the chair vigorously and angrily until it tipped over.
I'll take that as a yes.
"So, what? Do we hire someone in? Or send him away somewhere?"
Na, that's too pricey. I say we get the guests to do it. Of course, you don't have to, Woozie.
"I'll help, Lazlow." said Woozie.
"What about me?" asked Max. "Do I have to do it?"
Yes.
"Damn."
Okay, let's wake up the other guests and tell them. Max, you do that too.
"Aw man!"
I walked over to one of my fallen comrades – CJ, a man I had known for an accumulated time of about forty seconds. We were like brothers in the time we were together, and now I had to stare down at his motionless, lifeless corpse like a hungry vulture upon its prey.
"Carl. Carl. . ."
I leaned down closer, and started to perform the kiss of life.
Not for my enjoyment.
For the sake of my brother.
"C'mon, Millie, quit it!" Carl said groggily yet excitedly. "Not now," he giggled, "I'm trying to kill Tenpenny. Wait, Max? AAAAAAAAGH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! AAAAAAAAAAGH!"
"Carl, " said Max, "are you okay?"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
CJ ran away in the direction of the bathroom and locked himself in.
I approached Tommy, another soldier in my squad. We hadn't really got on that well, these past minutes. Sure, we had our differences, but so did every other couple. If I revived him, I could make our relationship work.
I held his hand firmly.
"Lance! Knock it off, man, I'm not in the mood! I – Max? Where am I? Why is Claude laughing? Did I say something?"
Ha ha! No, nothing Tommy. Go and find Carl. Ha ha!
Later, everyone gathered around Claude who was still tied to the chair. Max, Carl, Tommy and Woozie sat in chairs surrounding him, and each had a speech prepared to attempt to aid his recovery.
Max stood up.
"Claude. Your friends have something they would like to share with you. We know this will not be easy, but we are all with you."
Who will go first? Carl?
"Okay." Carl stood up next to his chair. "Claude, I know we had a bit of a rivalry, and maybe that's my fault. I know I'm not really the smartest squirrel in the box, but -" Woozie opened his mouth to correct Carl, but Tommy (who was sitting next to him) stopped him. "I know we can be friends, Claude. You killed the evil psycho bitch I hated, but you also left me with the deed to a broken down old garage and I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU YOU BASTARD!" Carl lunged at Claude but Max stopped him.
"No Carl! Stay calm. We are trying to help Claude recover!"
All Claude could do was laugh.
Woozie?
"Claude," said Woozie, "I don't know you that well."
But?
"But what?"
Aren't you gonna say anything encouraging?
"Oh, uh. . .get well soon?"
Oh, god. Tommy, what do you have?
"Claude, I just plain don't like you. Seriously I hope you choke an die, or at least get hit by a truck."
"This isn't working." said Max. "I guess it is up to me to save the day again."
Max reached into his pocket to find his speech. He pulled out a piece of folded paper which unfurled down to the floor.
Max cleared his throat. "Ahem. Claude, you may be an evil alien warrior overlord, but in my eyes you have been nothing but a great friend. I know that – according to Carl and Tommy – you have hit me and hurt me several times, but thanks to the many concussions you gave me, I don't remember a thing. You are the anchor that keeps me securely fastened to the ground. You are the like a mime artist, in the way you can convey all your emotions without words, simply by hitting me. You are the hand that so frequently dangles me over the edge of life, and sometimes decides not to let go. You are like a dent in my life now, a permanent impression whom I will never forget, and will cherish forever. You are like -"
Can we speed this along?
"And that is why I am here for you. And that is why we are here for you. We will help you beat this addiction and get back on solid ground." Tears swell in Max's eyes. "I love you man! Group hug?"
"NO!" everyone cries in unison.
Max sighed. "Okay. Let's see if it worked."
Max untied Claude.
Claude stood up and Max handed him the frying pan.
Claude held the handle in both hands and stared at it.
Max gripped both Claude's arms. "Remember, I will never forget you."
Claude clubbed Max across the head hard.
Max staggered slightly, but regained his balance. He looked at Claude.
"Who the hell are you?"
Claude handed Max a small business card. On it was a picture of Claude holding a frying pan high above his head, and a smaller figure that oddly resembled Max kneeling before him.
He also gave one to Carl, Woozie, and Tommy.
"Hey Claude, how many of these did you have printed?"
Claude pulled back a curtain to reveal four or five dozen crates carrying the same motif as the card.
Max looked at the card and giggled. "Can I have another one please, mister?"
Claude nodded and extended his arm. Max shuffled forward in time to feel the full force of the frying pan colliding with his head.
"I TRUSTED YOU!"
Claude smiled.
"I don't think we'll ever make him drop it. . ." sighed Carl.
"I bet I can." said Tommy.
He reached into his pocket and took out a bat and ball game (a bat with a ball on a string attached) and showed it to Claude.
Claude immediately stuck out his hand to grab it. Tommy pulled it away.
"Uh uh. First give me the frying pan, Claude."
Claude looked at the frying pan, then at the bat, then at the frying pan. So many things were rushing through his head now.
Gee, that looks fun.
But this frying pan hurts people.
What am I going to do with four million business cards?
Did I kill that Max guy yet?
I hope I did.
Gee, that looks fun.
Claude surrendered the frying pan to Tommy in exchange for the colourful children's toy.
Tommy held the frying pan in triumph, but there was a knock at the door – another policeman.
"Evening ma'am."
Tommy held the weapon threateningly. "I swear if one more person calls me that -"
"Now miss, there's no need to get hysterical. Perhaps that is why you killed the other nice police officer who came to visit? Hm?"
"Me? No, no, there must be some mistake. I just took the weapon from the real killer moments ago!"
"Oh, and who was that?"
"It was -" Tommy looked around for Claude, but he was no where to be seen. "Shit," he murmured under his breath, "I gotta blame this on someone. . ."
He glanced around the room. There was Carl. . .no he would kill Tommy, Max. . .no, he has enough bumps and bruises to be the sole victim, Woozie. . .the blind man. . .perfect!
"Uh. . It was him, officer." Tommy pointed to Woozie.
"Do you expect me to believe that?"
"Yeah, I mean look at him – the dark glasses, the suit – you just know he's planning something."
"What about the seeing eye dog?"
"What seeing eyes dog?" asked Tommy as he kicked the seeing eye dog from view. "Uuuuh, alright, listen. How much will it cost for you to go away?"
"I don't come cheap."
"Clearly. Here. Have this."
Tommy handed the police officer one of Claude's business cards.
"Y'know. . ." started the policeman, "the man on this card. I think I saw him before in this house. I bet it was him who - "
Clang!
The man slumped over, and Tommy immediately dragged the body to the hole.
Two dead cops. And one unconscious and amnesic. Great start for the debut show. . .
There was another knock at the door. Tommy walked over to answer it, but it was burst open seconds before he did so. To Tommy, this was rather surprising. Surprising, yes, but mostly painful, as he had been standing behind the door at the time.
It was Su Xi.
"Sir! Sir!" he yelled.
"What is it, Su Xi, I'm busy. I already have a seeing eye dog, I don't need you."
"Sir, it's about your casino."
"Ah, making great profits are we?"
"Yes sir."
"Good good. Now is there a problem?"
"Yes, erm. . .More like a catastrophe."
"Please, it can't be that bad."
"It's on fire, sir."
"Oh. That is bad."
"Yes, as it happens, sir, one rather excitable man won a hand of Blackjack and celebrated by shooting his gun into the air."
"That doesn't sound bad."
"Well, see, the Triads were having a truce meeting with members of the Mafia and Yakuza, and when the shot was fired, each group suspected a set-up and basically it turned into a full blown war."
"Oh my god!"
"I know sir. Thankfully, security managed to get rid of the men causing the trouble before they caused any serious damage."
"Oh, that's good. Wait, I thought you said the building was on fire."
"Yeah I tripped over a fuse and short circuited all the lights, they fell to the ground and set the place ablaze. My bad."
"Su Xi you idiot! Lazlow, I have to go."
What? Oh, bye Carl. . .
"W. . .Woozie. . ."
Right.
One more guest down, eh guys?
"Guess so." said Carl who had just revived Tommy.
"Hey where's Claude? And Max?"
In the other room, Max lay on the couch. He was just coming round when he saw a dark shadow lurking over him -
masking the light, keeping me trapped in the perils of my world of complete darkness.
Max looked around to see what was causing the shadow.
I looked this way and that, the source of the brooding darkness was never too far away.
It was Claude.
It was Claude.
He held his new bat and ball playfully and encouragingly for Max to see.
In his hands, I saw it. His famous weapon. He would never hit me with it again! It was finished! AAAGH!
Max bolted out the room and out the front door, yelling "Screw you guys! I'm staying with Lazlow!"
Claude sat in the couch by himself, lonely and confused. He started to bat the ball about, and instantly cheered up.
In the meantime, Tommy got rid of the frying pan.
"Hey Carl, you ever hear of that Actionmax guy? He's a pretty good writer but he doesn't stand a chance compared to lordmasterkris."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"The story writers that – ah, never mind."
"Hm. . ." said Carl. "That day seemed to pass by quite quickly."
"Yeah, maybe coz we were unconscious for most of it. . ."
"Probably. Well, goodnight." Carl said, and collapsed.
"Night Carl, night Claude." said Tommy, before doing the same, hitting the edge of the table again on the way down.
Claude sat in the other room with his toy, frantically bouncing the ball around.
The string snapped.
Claude stood up, walked over to the bin and threw it in.
Well that's the end of that, eh?