-Based on the Late 15th Century Epic Ballad "Spending Time With Sam & Max"-
7:00 AM - Wakeup Call
The instant his eyes snapped open, Max threw himself over the side of his bunk, pulling his gun out of nowhere and beginning to fire into the floor.
"SAM! GET OUT OF BED! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! DING, DING, DING, DING, DING! GET A MOVE ON! SAAAM!"
7:30 AM - Breakfast
Max threw open the fridge door. It was stockpiled with carrots and peas, plus a box of Pizza Poultices. For some reason, Lou was sitting on a shelf next to the corn.
"Do we have any actual food today?" He asked, turning to where Sam was pouring a cup of coffee for himself.
"I think we forgot to go shopping again."
"Give me a cup," Max demanded, reaching for the coffee pot, only to have Sam move it out of his way.
"That would probably be a bad idea, Max. Remember? Coffee makes you overemotional and irrational. The last time you drank it, you started blubbering again about how they cancelled 'My So-Called Life.' Get milk if you're thirsty."
"I'm not over it yet, Sam. You know that. Do we have anything to actually eat, or are the cupboards all just full of that useless memorabilia that you've taken to collecting?"
"I'm pretty sure they're empty."
Max shrugged. "That's okay. We can gather delicious and nutritious organically grown produce from our own home vegetable garden."
Sam just frowned at that. "When in the hell did we get a vegetable garden?"
Max gestured to the window, where the front lawn was being overrun by a tangle of shrubbery surrounded by a fence of barbed wire keeping strangers from straying too close to their property. "There's some green stuff growing out there. Green's a vegetable, right?"
"Sure, why not? Help yourself to all the pesticide-rich greenery you can gorge yourself upon, friend. In the meantime, I'm going to look for something with more sustenance." He stood from the table, setting down his mug and frowning again as he scanned the kitchen. "Do you know if we have a pantry?"
"Probably not. Hey, if you find any donuts, don't eat them. They're almost two years old, now." Max said, suddenly jerking his head upright, ears rigidly set in place.
"Does it have anything to do with that science experiment you mentioned a while ago?"
"I'm not letting any minor setbacks stop me from achieving my goal of starting a culture of bacteria, then watching as they evolve into a society of microscopic, but sentient, beings, so that I can be worshipped as their god."
Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, strolling over to the window where Max was fixated on something across the street. He didn't bother asking him what he was looking out at, since Max would probably forget the moment he brought it up. Instead, he rolled his eyes.
"Honestly, Max, how many cults and religions do you need yourself to be the centre of? You've already been declared the Chosen King of the New Guinea Pigs, High Priest of the Ocean Chimps, Emperor of the Underground Sewer Mutants, and the founder of the Church of Maximization. Plus, you've been the star of at least a dozen prophecies of the apocalypse. Do you really need any more?"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot."
Sam scratched his head. Now that he was hearing himself say it, something suddenly occurred to him. "Whatever happened to the Church of Maximization, anyway?"
Max grimaced, turning from whatever had briefly held his interest at the window and going back to the fridge. "It just opened the way to scores of copycat religions that made a mockery of everything that Maximization stood for."
"You mean that they were more successful than you were?"
"It really grinds my gears to see that these people can claim to have founded a new faith that's such a blatant rip-off of a pre-existing and preordained set of beliefs, and get away with it just because they're better known in the media. "
Sam raised his eyebrows, or at least what would pass for them if he were a human. "I can't believe that you used such a hackneyed phrase to express your indignation."
Max turned back to him, disgust clearly written on his face. "Don't say 'hackneyed,' Sam."
8:00 AM - Morning Commute
Out on the driveway, Max pushed past Sam as he leisurely strolled towards the DeSoto, grabbing the handle for the driver's door and tugging. It was still locked, so he turned to Sam, making his eyes as huge as he could. "Can I drive today, Sam? Please?"
In response, Sam walked over to his friend, unceremoniously placing a hand on his head and shoving him out of the way. "Over my putrefied and decaying corpse, chum."
Quick as a flash, Max whipped out his gun, narrowing his eyes. "That can be arranged."
"I'm the one paying for gas, so I get to drive," Sam shot back. With a sigh, Max put his gun away and walked around to his designated passenger seat. "Where the hell did you get that thing, anyway?" He asked, eyeing his now-empty hands. "Is it really sanitary to use it?"
Max scowled at Sam as he leaned back in the seat. "First of all, I've told you a thousand times; it's none of your damn business. Second of all, it's none of your damn business."
Shaking his head, Sam turned the ignition and started up the car. "I suppose there are some things max was simply not meant to know."
"Are you sure that you qualify?" Max asked as Sam backed out of the driveway. As soon as they pulled onto the road, he opened the windows, rolling them down and pointing out the window. "Try and run over that man!"
"I think that's either a very ugly woman or a bipedal goat."
He shrugged. "I don't care. I just want to feel it's lumpy carcass rolling beneath our new tires."
"No time, little pal."
8:30 AM - Brief Rest Before Work
The elevator was broken, so as they were climbing the stairs leading to their office, Sam reached into his pocket and froze.
"Max, something just occurred to me." He began slowly. "When we were leaving the house this morning, I saw the keys to the office hanging from the hook by the door, where we've agreed to keep them so as to avoid losing them and getting locked out anymore."
Max was still panting from having just climbed two flights of stairs, and slowly turned his head towards Sam, eyes slightly narrowed. "Continue."
"However," Sam said, still fumbling in his pockets. "However, I may not have actually taken said keys with me when I Walked out of the door, as I have no memory of doing so and searching my pockets for them has ultimately proved fruitless."
Max was silent for a moment, as if tensing to spring, but ended up just sighing. "I don't like that expression. Fruitless. It reminds me of pears, and I hate pears."
"Is there any chance that you would have them, little pal?" He asked hopefully.
"Where would I keep them, Sam?" Max demanded, sounding exasperated and abruptly stomping up the stairs past him. Sam couldn't see the look on his face because he'd turned his back to him. "In my pockets? Because you're the one with clothes on."
"You might have them wherever you keep your Luger."
"There's not much room in there, Sam," Max patiently explained. "I can't just shove in whatever I want willy-nilly."
Sam froze once more. "Oh, god," he muttered, a look of horror crossing his face. "Now that's a mental image I didn't need."
8:45 AM - Chatting With Fellow Employees
After managing to break down the office door, Max wandered back down the hallway absently. He'd either forgotten that the door they'd just broken down was to their own office, or he was off to do something else. He'd most likely forgotten. As a result, Sam was alone when he walked in on the rat sitting on his TV.
"Hey, Jimmy Two-Teeth. I thought you and your family were out of town."
Jimmy scowled. "Now that we's got no hollowed out husk of da robot to make comfy in, we's looking elsewhere for housing."
Sam attempted to close the door behind him, but what was left just fell apart. "So you moved back into our office?"
"It's a temporary arrangement."
Max threw open the remains of the door, peering inside. "Hey, Sam, you have any change for the vending machine in the lobby?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, buddy. I'm flat broke." Gesturing to Jimmy, he added, "By the way, meet our newest possible tenant. Jimmy's desperate and has decided to come crawling back to us in his hour of need. I'm currently considering the merits of toying with him by refusing to sublet our office any longer."
Turning to face the rat, Max stuck out his furry white paw. "Hey, Jimmy. Rent's due. Pay up."
Jimmy jerked upright, flaring at the two of them, tensed as if to run away. "What are ya, some kinda wise guy?" He snapped. "I don't pay no rent for this place, least of all ta you two!"
As Jimmy took off scampering towards his old rat hole, Max looked at Sam, grinning. "I like how he takes himself so seriously, despite his outrageously broad Brooklyn accent that makes it impossible to."
"You have a Brooklyn accent too, Max."
Max sighed at that, walking back into the office and beginning to rearrange the shard's of splintered wood to resemble their former door. "And when was the last time anyone paid attention to one of my death threats?"
"That's your own fault, Max. You need to learn some follow through."
9:00 AM - Busy Work Day Begins
By some uncharacteristic stroke of brilliance, Max had decided to bring Lou with them to the office that day, and was currently playing one of his favourite games with Sam. Balancing on the bowling ball with a single foot, he was swaying wildly backwards and forwards, trying to keep the apple on his head steady.
"Try to stop screaming, Max. It throws me off." Sam said, carefully taking aim so that he could fire again.
9:30 AM - Hard at Work
For some reason, Max was hanging over his chair, his legs hooked over the back for balance. His head and ears were dangling, brushing against the floor. He was perfectly still for so long that Sam had begun to wonder if he was dead; then he looked up.
"Do you think the commissioner's gonna call today?"
Sam shrugged. "If he doesn't, we can go drive around for a while. Maybe we can give out some tickets?"
Max nodded and jerked his thumb irritably at the broken TV set. It sort of got reception now that they'd stuck a new pseudo-antenna in it, but it was still mostly static. "Maybe we can finally get a better TV?"
"Isn't old Telly good enough anymore? Where's your sense of nostalgia, Max?"
"The same place as my sense of decency and sense of shame, Sam." He answered smugly, once again letting go so that he was hanging off the back and standing on his head. "And why do you keep giving things cutesy nicknames, like Telly and Steamy?"
"BRIIING! BRIIING! BRIIIIING!"
Max jerked upright, knocking over the chair and landing on his tail on the floor. He and Sam looked at each other.
9:35 AM - Turmoil At Work
"I GOT IT!"
"I GOT IT! I GOT IT! I GO IT!"
"NO! I GOT IT! LET GO!"
"I GOT IT! I GOT IT! I GOT IT! I GOT -"
"I GOT IT!"
9:40 AM - Problem Solving
Sam was pulling Max's ears, with the lagomorph held in a painful-looking headlock. Max was holding on tight to Sam, his jaws sunk into his side and legs swinging wildly behind him, desperately trying to kick him. Finally, Sam managed to pull Max off him, shoving him to the side and sending him flying through the open window.
Sam glanced at the window for a second, briefly wondering if his friend was all right, before diving for the phone.
"Hello!" chirped the robotic voice at the other end. "You have been selected to..."
With a grimace, Sam hung up the phone, not noticing that Max had crawled back in through the window. With a roar, he lunged at him, tackling Sam's back.
10:00 AM - Still Working
Twenty minutes later, everything was forgiven, and Max was seated on the floor with the hammer Sam had tossed him. A cockroach was scuttling around the office, and he was wildly slamming the hammer down of everything within reach, trying to smash it. Sam, meanwhile, was leaning back in his chair, hat pulled over his closed eyes, trying to catch a nap during this surprisingly slow day. Usually, the commissioner had called by now, and they'd had one or two car chases and a few brushes with death. Or at least with dismemberment.
"Do you ever wonder if we're trapped in some kind of infernal time loop that constantly ends in the brutal demise of us and everyone we care about, only we don't know it, and can't do anything to prevent it due to our lack of knowledge of the inevitable outcome?" Max asked abruptly.
Sam was jerked out of his stupor by the sound of Max's voice, but it took him a moment to process what he'd just said. "No, I can't honestly say that I've ever thought that."
"Oh. Well, me neither, until today. Hopefully my very recognition of the possibility created a paradox strong enough for the loop to collapse on itself, thereby saving us from that gruesome fate."
"You're a hero, Max." Sam said sleepily.
"Will you erect a statue in my honour?"
"If I can find an empty lot big enough for that enormous head of yours, chum."
11:00 AM - Beating Competitors
Max shoved his hand in the rat hole and came up with the dangling Jimmy Two-Teeth. Winding back, he threw him out the window, Jimmy screaming the whole time.
"What the hell was that for?"
"I could hear him breathing - it was getting annoying."
12:00 PM - Lunch Break
"What d'you feel like doing for lunch, little pal? Wanna just walk over to Stinky's?"
Max shook his head. "That sounds hazardous to my health. Let's go somewhere less likely to give me the Bubonic Plague."
Sam had to stop and think at that. He didn't actually know that many restaurants near their neighbourhood. "What about Meesta Pizza?"
"Can we go to that sushi place instead?" Max asked, an unexpected note of pleading in his voice. "Can-You-Chew-Sushi? And Family Dining?"
Sam glanced at him as he opened the door, Max ducking neatly under his arm to pass through first. "What's up with you, Max? You've never liked sushi before. Besides, you always get sleepy when we eat Asian food, and I don't want you passing out in the car."
"Ever since I ate our old goldfish, I've been craving more." Max explained, hopping down the stairs two at a time with a loud thump for each landing. "I have a taste for blood that must be quenched."
Sam stopped on the stairs. "You ate our goldfish?" He asked, repulsed, before realizing something. "Wait, we don't have any fish. We never got any new ones after Mr. Spatula, remember?"
"I was trying to find a replacement, but they all died, and it would have been a waste of food to just flush them."
"I'm going to do you the favour of pretending you never said that."
1:00 PM - Midday Doldrums
Back at his desk after the Can-You-Chew buffet, Sam sighed contentedly. Being full was one of the most comforting feelings that he could imagine. "I admit, I'm not a fan of sushi, but that was a delightfully unique dining experience, buddy. Was that supposed to be Chinese or Japanese food?"
Max didn't answer. Taking up the remote, Sam turned on the TV set, flipping through the channels until he found something he recognized.
"Look, Max! It's the old Soda Poppers show that we used to watch as young adults with a sense of detached irony!"
Max was still silent.
"You okay, little buddy?"
Turning his head, Sam saw Max's head laying on his desk, eyes closed.
"Aw, he's sound asleep. This is the perfect opportunity to swipe his share of the fortune cookies."
2:00 PM - Continuing to Work
Max slept for nearly an hour, while Sam watched from his desk, alternating glances between the TV and his best friend. Suddenly, Max jerked upright with a gasp.
"I've just had the strangest dream," he muttered. "And you were there...and you were there..." he pointed at the desk lamp.
"I'm the only person here, Max," Sam patiently pointed out.
"Were you watching me sleep?" Max asked in response, completely ignoring him.
"You have a disturbing tendency to sleep-maim, little buddy. I wanted to make sure you didn't unintentionally gouge anyone's eyes out. After all, you're never supposed to wake someone up if they do that, which would be unfortunate."
Max considered. This sounded reasonable. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to miss something like that, I guess."
3:00 PM - Taking a Break
After Max had stolen the remote from Sam, he was sitting in front of the TV, mesmerized by Dr. Phil while Sam cleaned his hand cannon revolver.
"Do you realize that if we stay together for seven years, we're considered married by common law?"
"The very thought of the concept of ever considering to potentially contemplate such an idea disgusts and horrifies me no end," Sam answered, making a face.
Max just smirked. "That means I own half of all your worldly possessions. I'm planning on selling my half, maybe buying some tasteful ferns or prints instead," he added, waving his hand around the office in an all encompassing gesture.
"Be careful with your references to already popular media, Max. We can't afford another lawsuit." Sam said warningly, pointing at the fourth wall.
5:00 PM - Quitting Time
At five o'clock, Sam and Max were locking up their office by nailing boards they'd stolen over the broken shards of wood, and Max scowled. "This has been an oddly uneventful day, Sam," he complained.
"You said it, little pal," Sam agreed. "Still, we can't always have wildly improbable cases that lead to extraordinary adventures beyond the comprehension of the mind."
"All the same, I feel slightly disappointed."
"If you want, we could go give out those tickets we were planning to earlier."
5:30 PM - Unwinding Before Going Home
As Sam raced down the highway, brazenly ignoring the traffic around him, Max held the megaphone to his mouth and began to scream.
"SHE'LL BE COMIN' ROUND THE MOUNTAIN WHEN SHE COMES-"
"Who needs a siren when I have you around, little buddy?" Sam shouted.
"That one!" Max screamed, pointing at a car in front of him whose driver was either deaf or in denial, since they hadn't yet screeched out of their way as they went on their rampage. "PULL OVER, THAT ONE! HEY! STOP, IN THE NAME OF THE LAW! Hey, isn't that like a song? 'STOP, IN THE NAME OF LO-'"
"Please stop singing, Max."
6:00 PM - Traffic
As they pulled to a stop in the middle of the road to switch seats, Sam eyed the steering wheel apprehensively. Max could barely see over the dashboard. "Why in god's name did I agree to let you drive?"
"Thanks, Sam! You're my best friend!" He gleefully replied, utterly oblivious to what Sam had actually just said.
"Aww...I can't say no to those eyes," Sam sighed, seeing Max's shining brown eyes. "And especially not that smile," he added, eyeing the razor sharp grin quickly spreading across his face. "Ugh. It gives me the willies.
For a moment, Max seemed too distracted by the sheer delight of driving the DeSoto to actually say something, before glowering. "Please don't ever use that phrase again."
As he slid into the passenger seat, Sam reached for the seatbelt. "Just out of curiosity, if I died tomorrow, what would you write on my tombstone?"
"I'd always assumed there'd be no tombstone," Max answered, starting the ignition.
"So you'd have me cremated?"
"If I got to do it myself, yeah. Or maybe I'd get you stuffed. Would you like to be a hat rack?"
6:30 PM - Home at Last
Standing in front of the door, Max impatiently waiting behind him and glancing around idly, Sam fumbled in his pockets for the keys.
6:45 PM - Relaxing at Home
"Thank god you pack such a mean punch, little buddy, or our door would still be whole, and we'd be locked out in the cold and potential rain."
"It's the least I could do, Sam. After all, this is my house too, and if you couldn't find the keys, then I wouldn't be able to get inside in time to record my soaps."
"You have soaps?"
"No, but I heard someone use that phrase once," Max explained. "I liked it - it sounds slightly pathetic, with a touch of neediness."
"BRIIING! BRIIING! BRIIIIING!"
6:50 PM - Surprise Calls
"Hello, commissioner? ...yes? Yes? No! Yes! Holy hyperkinetic hyenas hailing from Harold's Hungry Hamburger Hunt in Huxtonburg, we're on our way!"
Later - Going Out For Dinner
Later, Sam and Max strolled back into their home after an amazing adventure that anyone would have been sorry to have missed out on.
"Wow, that was a truly gripping and climactic battle, wasn't it, Sam, I mean Max? In fact, I think that might have been the most epic battle of our entire career!"
"Who knew that the toast over we'd picked up earlier would have proven so useful?" Max agreed, yawning and stretching.
"You're so right, Max - without that vital element, we'd never have managed to foil that dastardly villain's plan to..."
"Sam, I just lived it. I don't need a summary." Max snapped, a little irritably - the way he always got when he was tired.
"Sorry, little pal," Sam apologized, noting the dull look in his eyes. There probably would have been dark circles under them if he hadn't been covered from head to toe with white fluff. "I don't know what I was thinking. Still, that was truly an enthralling case. I don't know how we'll ever find excitement in our ordinary lives again compared to the sights we saw tracking down that malevolent fiend."
Max allowed a smile, but still had to stifle yet another yawn. "I can't believe that all we need to defeat him in the end was a simple plastic toothbrush!"
Nodding, Sam folded his arms across the chest and leant against the doorframe. "It's true what they say, Max; it's the small things that count. Our brilliantly executed master plan wouldn't have worked nearly so well if the toothbrush had been, say, an electric one."
"I don't care anymore. What're we doing for dinner?"
"I'll let you pick, little buddy. After all, it was your clever thinking and quick wit that got us out of that jam with the PTA, a sentence I never thought I'd hear myself say. We'd probably still be stuck on that cruise ship to nowhere if it weren't for you."
"I don't care. Just don't pick anywhere that serves grilled cheese - I think I've seen enough of grilled cheese today to last me my entire life."
"Hah! You crack me up, little buddy!"
Bedtime - The End of Another Day
In their bedroom, Sam yawned. "Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning, pal."
"Can I have the top bunk?" Max asked. By this point, what conversation he offered was little more than mumbling.
"Are you sure that's a good idea? You'll wake up in the middle of the night screaming again. Why do you insist on having the top bunk when we both know that heights reduce you to a blubbering wimp, despite me knocking you into the air so often?"
"I'm trying to become indestructible by conquering all of my weakness and fears, and vowing to remain indifferent to and unaffected by all. Such emotions are meaningless illusions that I will cast aside as useless sentimentality."
"You're embarrassing when you try to be stoic, Max. You're too co-dependent for that."
"That's mean, Sam."
"True, though, but I'll let you have the top bunk if you want."
"Thanks, but you'll have to lift me up. I'm too adorably miniature in stature to climb up there on my own."
"Being small doesn't automatically make something cute, you know," Sam pointed out; but Sam still picked him up by his sides and lifted him onto the top bunk. Max scrambled straight for the wall, grabbing the blankets and clutching them to himself.
7:00 AM - Wakeup Call
Max whipped out his fun and began to fire randomly into the room, bullets ricocheting off the walls and furniture with loud pinging sounds.
"SAM! GET OUF OF BED! BLAAAAH! BLAAAAAAAAAAAH! IT'S A BEAUTIFUL NEW DAY IN NEW YORK CITY! GET UP, GET UP, GET UP! BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
A/N: Ta-da! My first Sam & Max story! I was actually terrified to write this, because fanfiction + Sam & Max usually doesn't go over very well...it's sort of an unstable combination. Still, it's not like I was writing slash or something. Brrr. So, the fourth wall thing was just a reference to a Dilbert comic. The common-law marriage gag was used by Dogbert in an old strip, and I've basically spent two years waiting for a chance to use it myself after coming across it during an archive binge. The sole purpose of this note was to explain that, so...yeah. That's it.