Disclaimer: I do not own Sam & Max and the other anime shows that will appear in the upcoming chapters. This fan-fiction will contain mild coarse language and violence.
Sam and Max Freelance Anime Heroes
Pilot Episode/Chapter 1
Meet the Freelance Police
"RRRRRIIIINNNNGGG! RRRRIIIINNNNGGGG!" The telephone ringed with out loud intensely inside an office. The two residents, a six foot anthromophic dog in detective's clothing named Sam and a sociopath rabbit-like thing with a stuck smile showing incredibly sharp teeth that went by the name of Max, just stopped what they were doing and stared at it for a quick second. The two of them were private investigators of an organization called the Freelance Police from who b the called of an government would take on very dangerous assignments no one in their right mind would take.
"I GOT IT!" They both yelled.
The two of them dashed towards the phone and started a brawl to see who gets to answer the phone, like they always do. The Lagomorph was almost answered it but Sam grabbed him and stuffed him in the trashcan and then he answered it.
"Hello? Yes. Yes. Huh? No way! Really? Okay then." Sam said, then hanging up the phone
"Another automated voice to tell us to vote Yes on prop 4564245?" Max asked.
"It was The Commissioner with today's case! 3 billion copies of All of the World's Best Anime DVD's have mysteriously vanished and a millions of ticked-off anime fanatics cramped at the local Wally Mart are going to riot if they don't get their copy of it since they have been camping out there for 5 months before the publisher announced the release date, which is today." Sam answered.
"Oooh! Does this mean we get to stop a fan girl riot?"
"No bucket head! The Commissioner wants us to find those DVD's."
"Awww… I was in the mood for a good riot." Max groaned, "The last one I was in was that globe cup soccer game with an audience full of aggressive drunks and people overdosed on anabolic grizzly bear steroids."
"Cheer up little buddy, maybe we can throw the perpetrator into a fan girl pit and watch him be torn up, limb from limb when we're done."
An hour later, Sam and Max were in their car, a black and white 1960 Desoto Adventurer with a bumper splattered with road kill. Max was driving, which would explain why the car was in opposing traffic and going 120 inside a 40 mph area.
"Max, when was the last time your driver's license expired?" Sam asked while holding on to the dashboard and the door.
"The spineless teenagers working at the DMV liked me and how I threaten to hurt them with a hacksaw so much, they made my license permanent. 'Take it and please don't kill us!' they said." Max replied.
"You crack me up, little buddy… Say! There's Wally Mart!"
The Desoto entered the Wally Mart parking lot. Rows and rows of parking spaces were occupied by cars and camping tents.
"Odd, I thought this was some hippie community because all of the camping equipment and various stenches of poor personal hygiene that could knock out a burrow full of wombats instead of a parking lot." Max said.
"And you didn't notice all the anime themed swag Max?" Sam replied.
"Swag? Swag!? Sam, I'm pretty sure that's not a word." Max replied raising an eyebrow, questioning the word.
"Me neither, but the question is where the hell are we supposed to park?"
"I'm pretty sure at least one parking spot open for the substitute employee who has to fill in for when the cashier gets trampled to death."
It took them hours of finding an open parking space amongst fan girls and campers when they finally decided…
"Screw this! Let's go park on top of somebody else's car!" Max yelled, getting impatient.
"Well I can't think of reason not to." Sam replied.
"Excellent! I think I can see a construction ramp!"
Max turned the Desoto around and went straight for the ramp. After recreating a Dukes of Hazzard stunt, The Desoto landed on top of a blue sports car and made a hole somebody else's RV.
"Hope nobody was inside that car." Sam said.
"Nobody we know and/or have the potential to sue us at least." Max replied.
"Okay then, watch your step little buddy."
The Freelance Police got out of their car and headed inside Wally Mart.
The first thing Sam and Max noticed when they entered was that there was a huge line full of fan boys and fan girls, mostly fan girls, dressed up in costumes and getting their food sources from the candy at the other checkout lanes.
"Wow it looks these guys have been for a long time." Sam commented.
"Yeah and that guy's fake beard really convinces it." Max replied, pointing to an elderly looking man.
"Hey! I've been working here since the 1820's you whippersnapper!" The old geezer replied, "By the way Welcome to Wally Mart!"
"Well… judging by the fact that most anime fan boys don't say 'whippersnapper', I'm going to assume that you work here."
"Gee, you think?"
"Any who, we would like to speak to the manager please." Sam replied, ignoring the old man's rudeness.
"He's behind the customer service desk."
"Ah, blow it out your ear."
"A senior citizen with rude yet snappy comeback lines, two things that shouldn't go together." Sam said as he and Max left the cranky old man and headed towards the customers service desk.
"Like NASCAR and land mines." Max said, "Even though it would make a lot more fun!"
"If I could only find that Mental Rehab Admittance Sheet for you Max." Sam joked.
"Yep, not even Kevin Federline's Rap Album will keep me sane."
"Speaking of sending crap back where it came from, there's the customer service desk."
Sam cleared his throat, but the customer service representative cut him off.
"Welcome to Wally-Mart! How can we be of assistance?" The representative said, in a very creepy monotone.
"Uh… Hi, we're the Freelance Police! We came here to talk the…" Sam said, before getting cut off.
"Please present your item so that we may search for defectiveness."
"Uh… You don't understand; we're here to…"
"No cash back without a receipt."
"Sam, what the hell is preventing us from expressing gratuitous American police brutality?" Max asked.
"Well for one, we're only allowed to express brutality once a month and we expended this month's brutality on that guy operating the hot dog cart." Sam replied
"Yep, Human blood makes excellent mustard."
"And second; I have small yet very primary suspicion that he's interrupting my sentences so that way we don't get to speak with…"
"All Sales are… All Sales are… All Sales are…"
"Oh wait a minute; it's just an automated robot that most companies use to get out of paying their employees."
"Oh Boy!" Max replied, "Robot! Make me a semi automatic 56 caliber hand-gun with a 10 inch diameter barrel with the picture of Paris Hilton with a red and green Zebra bikini wrestling a horsefly the size of ping pong table in a pool of Nacho Cheese engraved on the handle made from cast-iron titanium with 10 34-karat gold bullets that weigh 5 pound each."
"Maybe some other time Max. For now let's just get past him and go straight into the manager's office."
"Fine! But a gun like that would really be the life of the party, especially when the paramedics come!"
"Max, remind me to forget your birthday."
"Okay." Max replied, extremely nonchalant.
The two detectives just went past the service desk and went inside the manager's office.
"Sam, Where the hell is the manager?" Max asked.
"Don't know little buddy. Maybe the accountant's union caught on to the fact the Wally Mart administrators seem to close down shops when the employees are planning heavy metal concerts and are conspiring to beat him to , but Due to the great shaking of that desk…"
Max jumped on it and looked below himself.
"Hmm… No manager here," Max observed, "Just a quivering old fart in a soiled business suit."
"Who happens to be sweating harder than an Olympic track runner wearing a black heavy-duty winter jacket during a summer heat wave." Sam added.
"Please don't hurt me!" The man bawled.
"If we were going to severely hurt you, we would have some Sulfuric Acid leftover from dissolving the door hinges." Max replied.
"We're Sam & Max: Freelance Police!" Sam said.
"The Police? Oh Thank God! I thought you were one of those fan boys who were going to maim me. I'm the manager of The New York Branch of Wally…"
"Hey! I found some Sulfuric Acid!" Max interrupted, causing the manager to scream, "Now we're going to hurt you."
"Max! We need to question him first though, then we'll pour liters of highly corrosive oil of vitriol on him."
"Well then, why are we standing here, performing unnecessary dialog? Let's get asking!"
"Sure thing little buddy!"
Sam then turned to the manager.
"Okay, then what kind of dastardly force of demonic evil would steal Anime DVD's the mainstream populace of ignorant Heroes viewers hasn't heard of or care about?" Sam asked.
"I…I…I… don't know! It's just that somebody somehow got into the back room and then." The Manager replied who then noticed Max standing on one leg like a cupid on a park fountain and about to pour a vial of acid on him.
"What? I'm practicing for my audition for the guy who pours sulfuric acid on some poor defenseless momma's boy of a crybaby's head!"
"Please don't do that."
"Which one: yours truly contemplates to pour the acid on your head or me actually doing it?"
"Sorry, you can only pick one."
"Quit screwing around moron," Sam said, getting things back to business, "Mr. Manager, do you have any idea on a visual description on the perpetrator?"
"Uh… I have no idea. I just boss people around."
"Well then little buddy, I guess we'll just go to the back room and make this locus safe for low-priced brainwashed shoppers… Just where is the back room?" Sam said.
"Sam, please don't say locus again." Max replied.
"Just on the opposite side of the building, But you'll have to get past the fan boy line and that's impossible. But they are… Let me show you." Manager answered
The manager then grabbed a stuffed plush toy and then threw it at the line. Within picoseconds the fanatics were ripping it to shreds.
"Holy hyperactive hungry hyenas at the McHarold's Hamburger Hut! They're chewing that doll like it was the only food source this side of a drought infested lake!" Sam yelled.
"Let's throw Bruce Willis in there Sam!" Max suggested.
"Only if he gets out of that coma you gave him."
"So what else are supposed throw in that will keep the line distracted for us to cut through?"
"Why are you guys staring at me like that?" The manager asked.
There you have my first piece of work on this site. Thoughts? Suggestions? Typos? Please review but no flames.