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A colossal lovecraftian-like being waves goodbye.
Sam woke up with a start, a cold sweat soaking into his striped pyjamas, his eyes slowly focusing on his surroundings. His heart felt heavy, as though it were weighing him down and he was about to sink into his and Max’s old mattress.
It’d been about seven years since then and here he was still getting nightmares about it. He chastised himself until he noticed the small form resting atop him and softened at the sight.
Max.
There he laid clinging onto Sam’s body tighter than a baby koala on a jungle gym in Prague. It was almost comical; his face was calmer than a clear summers day while he slept and yet awake, he was sure to be a terror to anyone who happened to be in the vicinity.
Sam smiled fondly at the thought.
After a while of lying awake and staring at the ceiling, he started to wonder what time it was.
He tried to turn his head towards their nightstand (which proves to be rather difficult with a 3 ft lagomorph resting on your chest like a living representation of those strange commercials for phlegm lozenges), they never really kept anything on top of it besides the occasional glass of milk or surprisingly entertaining children’s book.
However, since The Geek had started living with them, they had been needing to get up much earlier than they used to, at least 6 am. The absolute horror. But unfortunately, structure and routine were rather important for a young creature’s development so they would sacrifice their well-missed extra snooze time for their beloved Geek. Secretly hoping The Geek would be sure to pay back the gesture when they were both old and grey.
Long story short, an alarm clock shaped like a weird clown was purchased and occasionally when not being tossed to the farthest wall in a fit of pure rage, was kept on their nightstand.
It was then that same alarm clock started beeping, very loudly and incessantly. It was this high-pitched type of noise, the kind that were you to hear it out in public you’d instinctively scream: ‘I’M UP, I’M UP’ like a Pavlov dog would salivate at the sound of a ringing bell.
Well that’s offensive, scoffed Sam.
Max bestowed with the ability to hear, grumpily muttered under his breath, “Mierda,” along with several other curses of a similar calibre.
He burrowed his bulbous head deep into the croon of Sam’s neck, clearly and adorably attempting to escape the noise along with his responsibilities. His ears initially bending with the movement before suddenly springing back up with a cartoony boing sound effect. He cursed loudly before jumping up quickly.
Sam let out a tired, “Ough,” as Max jumped from on his chest to the floor.
Max took out a massive baseball bat with nails and teeth imbedded in the sides from wherever that freakish inventory of his is, and bashed the beeping clown clock repeatedly before yelling out, “C-C-COMBO BREAKER,” in an oddly accurate impersonation of a video game narrator, and hitting the wretched thing against the window shattering it instantly, effectively opening the curtain letting the morning light pour through.
Sam simply looked on in adoration and amusement, before getting up from bed himself and donning his purple bathrobe and slippers. “Alright bullet head, let’s go make breakfast before The Geek wakes up,” he said patting Max between the ears affectionately. Max beamed up at him with that bear-trap like smile of his before bounding ahead of him to reach the kitchen.
Only once in the kitchen Sam realised, they'd long since run out of bread for sandwiches of any kind, which would mean they would actually have to cook.
He shuddered; they hadn’t attempted that again since Sam’s birthday barbecue this year. He would have to remember to send flowers to the survivors. That was clearly not an option.
He looked in the cupboards sighing out a breath in relief, thank gods for disgustingly sugary cereal. He took out two boxes of the heavily processed artificial dry bits of corn starch. Reaching to grab some spoons he asks,
“Max, grab the milk, would ya?”
Max was bouncing around on the heels of his feet, trying to murder an innocuous fly resting on a fake fern, (neither Sam nor Max could be trusted to be held responsible for plant life after that fated encounter with a Venus flytrap in The Geeks basement of solitude) , his thumb hovering ominously above the insect.
He stuck his tongue out through his shark like grin planning his attack meticulously before striking. Smoosh. Another one of Mother Nature’s beautiful creatures smote by Max’s adorable blood covered hands. He giggled maniacally before clearing his throat.
“Did you say something Sam?”
Sam shook his head fondly decidedly grabbing the milk himself, “Nah, but...”
He thought on his next words very carefully, he could have Max wake up The Geek for breakfast and risk them being in a bad mood before school oooor he could leave Max to his own devices and hope he doesn’t rack up too high a kill count this time.
They hadn’t had many cases lately so while they weren’t about to be sleeping on the curb anytime soon, they still weren’t exactly liquid money wise, they couldn’t afford a lawsuit. He would’ve just let Max wake her up but he suddenly had a much better idea.
“Why don’t you go snag a newspaper from the neighbours, little buddy?”
Max pulled a face at that, “What am I, a dog? Never mind the fact that it would be criminal to go steal that overpriced mutilated tree carcass from our sweet elderly neighbour-,” he stopped in the middle of his own sentence with sudden ambition before running towards the front door, slamming it with reckless abandon.
Sam chuckled to himself softly, setting the bowls and spoons by their respective chairs. He sat in thought for a bit trying to recall something he’d forgotten; it was at the very forefront of his brain but just out of reach. He whined in frustration until he felt a yawn overtake him.
Ah, coffee.
The coffee machine itself met its unfortunate end when Max tried to bake a can of beans in it the other day and they had yet to buy a replacement. So, Sam decided to set some water in the dented slightly burnt pot and use the instant coffee instead.
He stood idly by the stovetop taking in the strong aroma of the coffee as it set. He grabbed out his and Max’s ‘#NO.1 DAD’ mugs, they were chipped in certain places over years of use but were surprisingly still whole. He shook his head; he really shouldn’t jinx things like these with Max in the equation.
He woke up from his thoughts at the sound of the door being opened and then swiftly closed. He faces the lagomorph as he leans backwards on the countertop. Max looked a little worse for wear, his white fur sticking out making him look more like a fuzzy white lint ball than hyperkinetic rabbity thing. Sam raised an eyebrow curiously.
“Bees,” Max grimaced darkly before shivering in fear.
Max slammed down the crumpled ball of paper he was holding down onto the kitchen table harshly, “Here’s your stupid newspaper,” he said with all the joy of a divorced middle-aged PE teacher.
The paper was practically illegible, it was torn completely to shreds the only part somewhat salvageable; the crossword section. Ah just as well, that was really the only good part besides the comics.
Sam unfolded the scraps of wasted tree essence onto the table, making a sort of voila gesture at the minimal action.
“Thanks, little buddy. Why don’t you grab a pen from the living room so we can figure out the crossword together?”
Max sat cross-legged on the floor with his arms folded, “What are we? Old men?!” he scoffed exaggeratedly, “Soon enough you’ll be sneaking heart medication into our food!”
Sam rolled his eyes thoroughly unfazed by Max’s usual theatrics this early in the morning. He knew soon enough he’d get bored of the defiant act he was putting on and grab the pen. He ignored his antics opting to instead pour the coffee he’d prepared, before it got all gross and room-temperature.
And just as expected after Max twiddled his thumbs in boredom on the kitchen floor, he practically ran out of the room and came back with a half-chewed up blue ballpoint pen (of which Sam is pretty sure Max found underneath the slushy machine on the floor of a Seven-Eleven back in 2005) at record speeds prompting Sam to give him a playful 8 out of 10 with his hands.
“An eight? Really? C’mon, that was at least a nine.”
Sam grimaced while sipping the partially burnt coffee, eyeing the crossword pointedly,” I’ll give you a ten if you help me find out what the living hell a seven-letter word for bird localisation is.”
At around 7.30 am they had finished the crossword or rather after exactly 15 minutes of bickering about whether or not the last word was circumcision or circulation, they shoved the last remaining scraps of what was once ‘The Daily Whatever Or Other’ into the garbage disposal.
And after a while they simply sat in semi silence with Max every so often muttering out something he’d like to do today, most of which involved causing gratuitous violence and mass hysteria as he scarfed down soggy cereal and with Sam humming non-committedly in response as he sipped down the remainders of his coffee.
Morning light poured in through the window adorned by curtains next to them, giving the scene they found themselves in an almost ethereal sort of glow. It also, somehow, made Max’s ketchup and chocolate cereal combination look like slightly less of a crime scene. And while Sam would say he wasn’t the type to fawn over anyone, (which if you were to ask Max he’d call him a big fat liar) , he couldn’t help but silently gush at the sight of his partner.
Despite that sight being a sharp-toothed lagomorph covered in ketchup, milk and cereal bits.
The sound of pitter-pattering footsteps descended the stairs, causing the ears of the freelance police to swivel towards the sudden intrusion of their quiet bird-songless morning.
“Mornin’ Geek,” Sam called looking down his now empty mug, shivering at the chemical-burn like aftertaste. They really needed to go shopping for a new coffee machine.
The Geek looked at their adopted lagomorph father, standing in the kitchens doorframe with the most deadpan expression before rolling her eyes so harshly they almost seemed stuck before blinking back to normal.
Taking her seat and grabbing the cereal box of teeth eroding properties they pour a bowl for themselves, “Mornin’.”
Max preoccupied with a rather turbulent version of the knife game, (having replaced the knife with a rusty meat cleaver with dried blood stains), muttered a hasty “Morning, four eyes,” in The Geek’s general direction before continuing his morning entertainment.
Rolling their eyes with the same intensity as a rollercoaster they retort in between bites, “Good morning to you too fuzzball.”
Sam stood to grab his and Max’s empty bowls, taking it upon himself to give the rabbity thing a big ol’ smooch between the ears and ruffle The Geeks fiery red hair respectively. To which both glare at him with near palpable killing intent.
Sam threw up his hands in a backing off kind of gesture before washing the bowls laughing a hearty chesty laugh as he does.
Max found himself suddenly and deeply distracted by Sam’s back, eyes marvelling at the sight of the amber hues of the morning accenting the Irish wolfhound’s fur and clothes.
He would never admit it to Sam nor himself but he could be pretty sentimental when the occasion called for it. Even with his one track mind and memory he could feel his body remembering what kind of day this was, remembering just how long it had been since he stepped out of that time machine. Since he nearly lost him for good.
It felt like his atoms themselves were on fire, as though he were suddenly jonesing for any kind of contact possible, feeding the urge, he jumped onto Sam’s back.
Sam in the midst of dishes and soap suds startled at the sudden weight of his partner on his back almost causing him to lose balance and drop a dish before cursing under his breath and quickly righting himself. He let out a sigh of relief.
Of course Max didn’t even need to ask but he could at least give him a warning.
Max was now standing on Sam’s shoulders his paws resting atop of Sam’s hat, nearly blocking out all vision to the sink but just enough so Sam could continue. He knew exactly what he was doing after all this time.
The Geek started tinkering with something they left on the table from last night, giving out a small but loud huff as to remind her parents she was in fact still here and to stop being all mushy before she rolled her eyes into Tartarus.
Max rolled the back of his paws against Sam’s hat, his voice holding a purposefully saccharine tone, “Sam?”
Sam’s face smiled widely already sensing the mischievous energy rolling off his words as he answered him in a sickeningly sweet tone, “Yes, my honey bunny sweetie muffin schmoopsy-pie?”
Still fiddling with their invention, The Geek cringed audibly, kicking the underside of the table in protest.
With a grin starkly rivalling the Cheshire cat’s and the Grinch’s in intensity Max drawled out a low gaudy sultry tone,” You know, I don’t think I’ve seen The Geek come downstairs yet, have you?”
Said Geek in question stilled upon being mentioned, yet was too distracted by their inventing to fully catch on.
Drying off the dishes he’d just washed Sam held his pointer finger under his chin as if genuinely thinking it over, “Hm, now that you say it, I don’t think I have…”
The scene is suddenly set in motion, their diabolical plan to embarrass their darling Geek. Max spun round facing Sam and grabbed his ears, giving a passionate display of affection. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of kissy noises and over the top couple-nicknames.
The Geek’s hands were clasping her ears as she shrieked, “EWWW YOU GUYS ARE HORRIBLE, GET A ROOM!“
Sam and Max guffawed into boisterous laughter, doubled over clutching onto each other before falling down into a pile. Max pounded his fist on the linoleum tiles, wheezing like a broken kazoo.
Wiping tears from his eyes, face still crinkled in amusement, “I nearly fell into the sink but oh my god that was sooo worth it, you should’ve seen your face Geek!”
Sam still just barely recovering from laughter, stood up to lean against the countertop before looking down and noticing his watch is backwards. He spun it round till the clock was facing him.
It’s 8.25.
An expression of pure horror shifted onto his face, now this usually wouldn’t be so bad but The Geek’s absence record was higher than Max’s was at their age, (to Max’s utter dismay), they were warned of immediate expulsion should she come to school late again.
“Geek, quick, what time do your classes start?”
The Geek still shaking from pure mortification and hate, “8.30 but it’s-“
Sam hauled ass faster than a cheetah chased by zoombas in a hurricane and grabbed their bag from the hallway, “MAX GET THE GEEK DRESSED WE GOTTA GO NOW.”
Max doing his best imitation of Sonic the Hedgehog dressed The Geek in a suit and tie with gelled back hair and a flower hairpin as an accessory in exactly under a minute. With a stressed out exhausted grin, he voila gestured towards The Geek.
The Geek blinked slowly in a dazed expression as though they were not only questioning how they were dressed that fast but reality itself, the suit itself looked crisp aside from the obvious red-bull-infused-vodka smell.
“Is that your wedding suit from our 17th wedding in Vegas?”
Max shrugged.
”Eh good enough,” Sam murmured as he grabs his keys from the key holder Geek made for the 1st father’s day they celebrated with them.
Opening the DeSoto’s door Sam tossed Max, The Geek and their bag into a ball, all three popping up and landing in perfect sitting positions. Turning the car key he revved the motor, the cd still in the car started playing, Queen’s Top 15 hits.
He violated several traffic safety laws and Max earned a mild concussion but he got there just one minute off. Looking out the window he hoped that maybe classes started later but the school grounds looked vacant.
Not even a single foul-mouthed punk sitting on the entrances stairs.
He turned towards the back of the car towards where The Geek and Max sat, making a small mental note to drop a bag of bricks on Max’s head to fix his concussed state, and sighed, “I’m awful sorry Geek, I know you really liked this school but-“
“Sam?”
He unbuckled his seatbelt to sit more comfortably, grimacing at what The Geek might say to him, “Yeah?”’
The Geek looked positively incredulous and borderline pissed, oh boy he would really have to make up for this somehow. Early birthday or holiday presents maybe? A golden retriever? God no that’s existentially horrific and financially irresponsible. Concert tickets? Sam knows The Geek likes this band called 10000 lizards or something, not really his style personally. He prefers Dolly Parton but if that’s what it took he’d go with them twice.
“It’s Saturday.”
Oh.
Woops.