Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, I've been busy preparing a story for fictionpress.
The same rule applies about the text styles – Bold Italics are Lazlow and regular italics are Max Payne
Day Nine
Hey, hey! Guys!
"Bluh?"
That's right, Carl.
"It's four in the morning!"
Actually it's two in the morning but that's besides the point.
"Bluh?"
Anyway I just received word that today is Claude's Birthday, so I'm letting you out of the house to get him a present. I had that servant guy from the basement put electronic tags on you while you sleep. So if you stay out past nine or leave the city you'll get a nasty shock. C. . .Carl please don't eat the tags.
"Bluh?"
Now sneak out while Claude is still sleeping.
Carl and Tommy nodded, and made for the door. The cold morning air hit them as they stepped out onto the pavement. Carl attempted to hit it back, but was unsuccessful.
"Well. . ." said Carl, "uh. . .bye!"
"Wait, where the hell are you going?"
"Home, Los Santos, man. We're finally out! We're free! Aaagh!"
A sudden jolt ran up CJ's leg.
"We can't go anywhere with these tags on, Lazlow's monitoring our every move."
Lazlow watched the dots on the screen through his bloodshot eyes.
"Pac Man level One Complete!" flashed on screen.
"Ah, they just don't make games like Pac Man any more." sighed Lazlow as he started playing San Andreas.
Back outside, Carl and Tommy were still on the pavement, but had made their way around the corner and were now sitting on the curb throwing rocks at moving cars.
"I wanna go home, Tommy. Can't you get this tag off?"
"Uh, I could shoot it off."
"That could work."
"Nah, I don't have a gun." moaned Tommy after checking his pockets, "and all the Ammu-Nations are closed on Sundays."
"Then there's only one thing to do." said Carl with a sense of purpose.
"And what's that?" asked Tommy, breathing out all his expectations.
"We go to a hardware store and hack off my leg!"
"But the tag's on your arm, why would you want to-"
"You heard me!"
"Carl, you're being stupid!"
"Yeah? Well you're being. . . incongruous!"
"What?"
"What?"
Minutes of silence passed, before Tommy spoke again.
"We have to get Claude a gift."
"Well I'm gonna get a better gift!"
"It's not a contest."
"Nyah!" Carl spat and ran off.
Tommy shook his head slowly and rested it on his hand for a moment, before strolling off to find a suitable gift.
Meanwhile, in an unidentifiable location, a mysterious stranger, unknown to everyone, crept along the streets.
"Hey Max!" yelled Tommy as he sprinted past.
Max looked terrible. He had gone hours without a monologue and frankly it was starting to show. He had spent most of the night drinking, testing his best new one liners (He said "You remind me of a pepper-pot", I said "I'll take that as a condiment"), and throwing up. But mostly throwing up.
His life narrations were getting feebler by the minute.
Guuuhhhh. . . something 'bout. . .funerals and. . .drums. . . shit, I'm gonna be sick again.
He had wandered the street for well over fifteen minutes looking for a place to stay. He only had one place left to turn.
So he turned.
And fell in a ditch.
Meanwhile, Carl walked the dimly lit paving in front of Liberty's best loved (and only) shopping centre. He came across various clothing stores, including Binco, his favourite, and a video game store with a large cardboard cut out of himself in the window. He stood in front of it briefly to fix his hair, but it was no use. The next shop along caught his eye (the 3D logo of a hippy protruding from the building stabbed into him as he walked by).
"Hippy Shopper." read Carl, and awarded himself with a cookie. "I wonder. . ."
He pushed the door open, a wave of smoke almost choked him. Suddenly he felt very hungry. He approached the counter, where a man with pale skin, big eyes, yellow teeth and a nifty little blue hat stood. He rang the bell just for good measure, and could have sworn he saw the sound waves resonating in the air. . .
"Duuuuuude. . ." questioned the hippy?
"um. . .yes," said Carl, putting on the most formal accent he could muster, "I'm looking for the Truth."
"The Truth? THE TRUTH? YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"
Carl wiped the spit off his face. "Well, with all respect, I'd still like to see him."
"Who?"
"Truth."
"What?"
"Truth!"
"Woahohohoho! Maaan!"
"Wait a minute. . . Jethro?"
"Hey Carl."
"Why didn't you say you recognised me?"
"Who?"
"Me."
"and you arrrre. . ."
"Carl. . ."
"Oh hey Carl, it's me, Jethro!"
"I know."
"Wow, man. . . it's been a while since I saw you dude."
"I saw you last month. I asked you to put air conditioning in my car and you cut a hole in the floor, remember?"
"Man, that was awesome."
Carl tried to stare him out, but had to stop when he started tasting colours. Jethro spoke again.
"So, anyway, Dwane-"
"Carl."
"Carl, what brings you to Vice-"
"Liberty."
"City?"
"Now say it again correctly."
"Say what?"
"Never mind."
"Oh hey, wait a minute. . .are you Carl Johnson? Man it is you! Hey Truth c'mere, it's Carl!"
Jethro ran off into the back storage area and came back with a middle aged woman.
"That's not Truth."
"oh. . .ahahahahaha!" Jethro giggled as he fetched Truth.
"Hey Truth." said Carl.
"Oh, hey Jethro-"
"Carl."
"Right."
"Truth you wanna come and meet some of my friends?"
"Sure, I had nothing else planned for today."
"What about the sacred trip to the observatory to contact the space demons and ask them for more pot?" said Jethro.
"The. . .what?"
"C'mon, Truth, let's go. See ya Jethro!"
"Yeah see ya Hank!" added Truth as he was pulled out the doorway.
Back in the Big Brother house, Claude was just beginning to stir. It was nine am exactly. Lazlow knew this by the agonizing screams coming from Carl and Tommy who were standing on the porch.
Carl rang the bell.
Ah, Claude, you better answer that.
Claude placed his hand on the door handle and was thrown across the room as Carl burst through the door.
"Claude!" yelled Tommy, "Congratulations! I got you a chimp!"
"Yeah!" added Carl, "And I got you a hippy!"
Claude looked a little perplexed, but pulled himself off the floor and walked to the chimp, before wrapping his arms around its waste and hugging it until it turned blue. He then shook Truth's hand, and walked through to his room arm in arm with the monkey.
"He likes my gift better." gloated Carl.
"No way! I got him a fucking chimp!"
"Where the hell did you find a chimp in this town?"
"The people at the zoo were very friendly. Especially the janitor."
"Who was the Janitor?"
"He was." said Tommy, pointing at the monkey. "his name's Aaron."
The doorbell rang. Carl answered in time for Max to throw up on him.
"Max? I thought you were staying with Lazlow."
Yeah but I kicked him out for eating all my decorative soaps.
Max nodded grimly.
"Here," said Tommy, returning from the kitchen with a drink. He handed it to Max who drank it down quickly. "Old hangover cure."
"So Lazlow, do we have any entertainment for Claude's birthday?" asked Carl as images of clowns and balloons and unicycle drifted into his mind.
You're lookin' at it.
"Max? What's he gonna do? Recite his life story?"
"nah. . .nah. . .Tommy. . .nah. . .nup. . .I don't. . .don't. . .hic. . .do that. . .any more. Hic. I had a. . .hadda. . .revelation. I'm a stand up comic now. Hic."
"You're not very good at the stand up part though are you?"
A rimshot followed by laughter played.
You better sober up first.
"No rush," said Tommy, "he's playing with my present now."
"Son of a bitch." muttered Carl.
I have an extra special challenge for you two. And I'd like to note to the viewers that this is the first time they have eaten since Day five, so they should be jumping at the chance. Jump, bitches.
The bitches jumped.
You are going to bake a cake for Claude. If you are successful, you get to eat tonight. If not, Claude and his friend get to eat and you don't. Come on. Let's get started.
Carl and Tommy walked to the kitchen, closing the door behind them, and leaving Max and Truth in the entrance.
"Don't. . .I. .don't I know you from some-hic-where?" Max asked.
Truth shook his head and dropped his pipe, kicking it through a rat-hole.
"Didn't you used to be a cop?" asked Truth.
"Yeah but they. .fired me for. . .something about. . .overthrowing. . .alien overlord. . .trying to hit the chief. Yeah, that was it."
"Oh. Sweet."
"So. . .Carl. . .you know how to bake a cake?"
"I live in Ganton, Tommy. If I knew how to bake a cake, I'd be six feet under. I got a rep to hold up, I can't go around bakin' cakes, I' look like a fool."
"Well, the "Kiss the chef" apron probably doesn't help."
Carl turned away sharply.
"Aw, did I hurt your feelings?"
"Yes. . ."
"ahahahahahahahahahaha!" yelled Tommy.
The door burst open and Truth and Max laughed too.
"Oh god, feels like someone's working a pneumatic drill in my head!" yelled Max through the laughter.
"Well. . .we better get on with the cake." said Carl, closing the door and covering his apron with his arm.
Some time later, the cake was put on the kitchen counter to cool.
Tommy creaked open the kitchen door and walked out, dusting his clothes and fixing his hair. A small drop of pink icing stained his shirt. Following him came Carl. The frustrated, angry look on his face was just visible through the thick pink substance he was covered in.
He muttered "fell into the cake mixture. . ."
"Twice." added Tommy.
"r. . .right."
Tommy noticed Claude sitting with his legs crossed, pulling up bits of carpet.
"What's the matter Claude?" he said, faking interest.
Claude held up a flash card stating "bored" with a picture of a sleeping puppy. Afterwards he put it back with the others which had apparently been a gift from Max.
"Well, what about your other presents? You hardly play with your chimp at all any more, or your hippy." He pointed to a corner of the room where Aaron sat eating things he pulled from Truth's hair.
Claude shrugged, and tried to set the strands of carpet on fire. Tommy ignored him. He walked back over and sat with Max and the pink fellow. Truth joined too.
"So," said Max, who was finally sobering up, "how is the cake?"
"Let's just say Claude will find it rather. . . explosive. . ." Tommy broke into an evil laugh. Carl joined in when he realised what was so funny. Truth joined in for the hell of it.
They noticed Claude walk over, and search his cards for one that said "Where's monkey?".
"Max, you really thought he would need a "where's monkey?" card?"
"Well, Carl, it looks like he proved you wrong, didn't he?"
"No."
"Well, then."
"No," interrupted Tommy, "he has a point. Where is the monkey?"
He noticed Truth pointing behind him eagerly, then fall off his chair laughing. He turned to see.
"Aw, Carl! Tell me you didn't leave the kitchen door open!" yelled Tommy.
"You didn't say I had to close it!"
"C'mon, we got animals running around! And I don't just mean Truth!"
"Hey that's no way to talk about Truth!" yelled Carl with a smile. "Oh. Oh you already said it. Dammit."
"Ha ha," laughed Max mockingly, "looks like the monkey ate your cake!"
"There was a bomb in that cake!"
Everyone fell silent.
A loud rumbling was heard from the kitchen, and Claude ran through, everyone else trailing behind.
Inside the kitchen, it rained monkey fragments. Claude sat on his knees in the middle with a look of genuine sadness. Then, he got up, took Truth by the hand, and skipped off with him as he had done with the monkey. The Truth mouthed "help me" as the door closed behind.
"Told ya he liked my gift best." said Carl.
"You think we should help him?" asked Max.
"We could." said Tommy. "But. . .y'know. . .TV."
"yeah," concurred Carl in an equally robotic tone. "TV."
They sat at opposite ends of the couch and flicked on the TV, a news channel. Max reluctantly joined them and sat in the middle, placing his arms on Tommy and Carl's shoulders, causing major discomfort for both of them.
The reporter was talking about strange lights being spotted.
"Hey," laughed Max, "the Truth is on! We gotta go get him and let him watch!"
"Wait a minute," muttered Tommy, "this is a live show. . ."
"Is that Claude?"
A figure in a black leather jacket was strolling around aimlessly behind Truth and the interviewer. He produced a shovel and started smashing parked cars with it. Neither the reporter or Truth took much notice.
"Yeah I seen the lights. I been there, I seen everything man."
"And what was it like?" asked the genuinely interested reporter, a young Asian woman with straight black hair.
"Well. . ." Truth faltered, "it was green, and. . .and. . .bright. I. . .uh. . ."
"Uh-huh. And have you ever seen the aliens?"
"Yeah I been aboard the Mothership."
"But isn't it true that the "Mothership" is actually the name of your car?"
The Truth was starting to sweat. More than normal. Behind him Claude was holding up his "Hi Mom" flashcard.
"I see." moaned the reporter, who had now lost interest completely. "And what did the aliens look like?" Her tone was patronizing and dumbed down.
"Uh. . . they were li'l green dudes, with big slimy heads and shit. . ."
"Yes. . .well. . .have fun on your voyage to the stars." she laughed. "And. . .cut! I swear to god these crappy interviews just piss me off so bad and – Frank, I said cut!"
The image disappeared and a woman sitting at a circular desk in a blue studio came on screen.
"Currently we have no more information." she stated firmly. "In other news, officials are on the hunt for the possible kidnappers of Aaron the floor mopping chimp who recently disappeared from his quarters in the Liberty Zoo earlier today. Richard Burns is on the scene."
"That's right, Leanne. Wait a minute, you're not Leanne. Where the hell am I?"
"Richard, get on with it."
"Yes! I'm here with Liberty Zoo owner Arnold Liverly, one man without his monkey. Do you have anything to say at this present time?"
A gruff, fat man took the microphone and said, "We need that monkey! The hippo cages won't clean themselves dammit! We'll make a federal case out of this! So, kidnapper, if you're listening at home, return our monkey, or there will be hell to fucking pay! Back to you Richard. Richard?"
"Woah, the elephants are mating! How cool is that!"
"We'll bring you more information as soon as we can." said the host in the studio.
Music played and the news ended.
Well look at that, its getting late.
"It's only eight fifteen!"
And that means its time for the show!
Truth and Claude came in the front door. No one bothered to ask how they got outside from the bedroom.
Alright, everyone pull up a chair in front of Max and let him entertain you!
"Lazlow, you on anti-depressants?"
Why, yes, thanks for noticing!
Testing. Testing. Hi how is everyone tonight?
"My feet hurt!"
"I'm hungry!"
"Why does he have to do the show in his monologue tone?"
Hi, I'm Max -
"We know!"
Tough crowd. . .
"What do you mean tough crowd! Carl and Truth are already asleep and Claude's too busy playing with his cards!"
He held up one that said "Go Max!" with a picture of a rabbit doing a bullet time roll.
Then let's get on with the show!
"Or not!"
Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.
"Better comedians than you have tried!"
Max, just get on with it.
I love stand up comedy. But what I love most is trying to pack myself into a suitcase. I can hardly contain myself.
Max pressed a button in his palm and a rimshot and laughter played. Tommy was already asleep.
Claude's card read "not bad."
Now you know those trick candles that you blow out and a couple of seconds later they come alight again, well the other day there was a fire at the factory that makes them.
The card read "was anyone killed?"
No, no Claude, it was a joke.
He picked up a new card. "Oh."
I was in my local supermarket the other day when I saw two people wrapped in a barcode. I asked them, "are you an item?"
Rimshot.
Claude's card: "Getting tedious now."
The sound of Max "crashing and burning" on stage woke Tommy up.
I had a dream last night, I was eating a ten pound marshmallow. I woke up this morning and the pillow was gone.
"Max, you slept outside last night."
I. . .I know. Theotherday I sent my girlfriend a huge pile of snow. I rang her up, I said "Do you get my drift?".
"You don't have a girlfriend."
Claude's Card: "Bored enough to kill you", with a picture of the rabbit being decapitated by a man with a huge smile.
Uh. . .thanks you've been a great audience!
Max ran for the door, exiting just before Claude's shoe hit it.
The doorbell rang.
Tommy answered, with mild shock.
"Hey Truth, it's for you!"
Truth jolted to his feet and went to the door. Two big headed green aliens stood in the frame with an identical set of flashcards as Claude.
Tommy returned to the living room and watched TV.
Minutes later Truth walked in again.
"Well. . .I'm going to Mars. Um. . .bye guys."
"Yeah see ya Truth." came the reply.
Claude walked to the door and showed his "can I come?" card.
The alien shook its head solemnly.
"Sorry, Claude." said Truth, as he walked off with the green guys.
The Asian reporter watched with interest from the news van as the space ship took off into the sky.
"What, a story!"
"The equipments in the van already." said one of the crewmen.
"Ah, then screw it. Let's get a Cluckin' Bell."
Back in the house, it was getting late. Tommy turned to Claude, and said, "Not a bad birthday, eh?"
To which he held out a card stating "it's not my birthday."
"But Lazlow said it was."
Oh, see that's the funny thing, I lied. Heh. . .
"Oh you better pray we don't get evicted!"
You won't. You won't.