Sam & Max Telltale Games | Reader Insert

Abe Lincoln Must Die!|Part 3

(Y/N) smirks, picking up the carbon-dating machine left on Sybil's desk. They turn the machine around, inspecting the item, "Well, my money troubles are down the drain...if I have anything historic that is."

They bite their tongue, scanning Sybil's tiki. (Y/N)'s eyebrows rise, "This is only 10 years old? The hell?"

"(Y/N)?"

The temp glances down at their phone, "Uh yeah, Sam?"

"Before you think up more ideas on how to scam people into buying your tokens, I need you to go inside Bosco's."

"Forrr?" (Y/N) asks as they lock Sybil's door and pocketing the key safely.

"Ooh! Scan the weenies," Max cheers, "I wanna see when they first expired."

(Y/N) sends back saliva down their throat, costive about going back into that smelly store. But they do need to pay rent, so (Y/N) marches their way to Bosco's mumbling about their gripes.

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(Y/N) slings open the doors to Bosco's Inconvenience, "Hey, Bosco," They tap their cheek, looking around Bosco's for some other things to scan out of curiosity and slight boredom.

Bosco grins widely, "Privet, comrade (Y/N)!"

(Y/N) cranes their neck at the coffee machine, scanning the cup. They glance at the label and frowns, "Ew, it's month old," They bite the inside of their cheek, aiming the device at Bosco.

Bosco takes a step back, peering at the carbon-dating machine in the temp's clutches, "What is that? Keep that away from me!"

(Y/N) retracts it, "Relax, Bosco, it only tells you how old you are."

"Well, why do you need to know that?" Bosco crosses his arms, squinting, "Did someone send you to find out how old I am?"

"Ju-whatever," The temp sighs as they aim the carbon-dating machine at Bosco's weenies. They retch, practically gawking, "The-oh, that is disgustingly eye-opening."

"What?" Bosco queries, glimpsing from the device to his spinning weenies rapidly.

(Y/N) points at the cannibalistic weenies, "These are from the early cretaceous period!"

Bosco, wide-eyed, sputters, "Uhh...Da!" He clears his throat, "Special bargain for you! Still tasty! Half-off only today."

"No you don't get it-" (Y/N) gags, "Bosco, you're store is now a national historic place. Your weenies are valuable artifacts."

"Really?" Bosco coughs, switching back to his Slavic accent, "I mean, of course! Am preserving heritage of my people," He leans over the counter, "Just how valuable are we talkin' 'bout here?"

"I don't know, but it's a lot," (Y/N) presumes, "Now you're getting a huge check from the government."

Bosco beams as he clasps his hands together, "Now I can finally finish my satellite defense system!"

"Since Max is basically controlling the government and I work for him, I can have the truth serum, right?" (Y/N) hums after cracking a few joints in their arms.

Bosco smirks, "Sure, Let me dig it up from the uh-labs," He lays a hand on the counter, grabbing an item underneath it. Bosco places down 750 mL bottle of vodka branded with his store's name on the label.

(Y/N) looks from the bottle to Bosco, "This is vodka," Though sounding vexed, it's a bit far from the truth.

"But it works!" Both Bosco and (Y/N) mutter, "Trust me, trust me," He drops the accent, "Get a couple of shots of that into somebody, and they'll tell you all their secrets."