Sam & Max Telltale Games | Reader Insert

The Bright Side of The Moon|Part 1

(A/N)I wanna be honest when I say that I have no clue what month or day each of these episodes are in. Sam and Max have a calendar, but do you really think they know how to use one correctly?

I have spent months trying to find out what month it would be at the time without an aneurism. All the information I have is that it's spread out in months and one line in 201 of Max saying that's it's November and not Christmas.

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(Y/N) had a fairly good day. They went shoot some people's tires out, sold a few dozen extra coffee creamers they had left over, went shopping, and had a free breakfast, lunch, and dinner-curtesy of the president of the old US of A. They didn't know why Sam and Max were being so nice to them on such a random day, but it's not like they'll complain about it.

Well...it wasn't exactly a random day to (Y/N).

The day after October 17, 2006 is the day (Y/N) will leave the freelance police office. They doubt that the hypnosis pyramid would be ending soon, so it'll be like they weren't even there in the first place, right?

Okay, who the hell is (Y/N) kidding? They've had the greatest eight months of their life with Sam and Max, they're not exactly citizens of New York you can forget.

It's stupid how much (Y/N) wants to stay and not go back to college and get a degree in some arrogant douchebagtopia major that'll get them a high-paying job their parents would just love for them to get-

The temp's thoughts get cut off by the sound of...well, nothing coming out of Max's sharp mouth, looking away from the camera.

(Y/N) glances to where Max is staring at. They both boar holes at Sam fixating his eyes to the starry yet dark night sky with his hands on the window sill. Amongst other things, Sam and Max offered (Y/N) a longer shift for their paycheck to be bigger.

Max snaps his gaze to (Y/N) and glances back and forth, signaling for them to mimic Sam's part of the report.

The temp quickly turns around in their chair, sputtering, "This has been an announcement from the president of the United States," They spout out in their 'Sam voice' they've been perfecting for a few months.

Max puts his hands behind his back with a strained smile at the screen until the red light on the camera stops. He scoffs, turning back to the 6ft dog, "What gives, Sam? You missed your cue!"

"What?" Sam returns (Y/N) and Max's stares, an apologetic look on his face, "Oh sorry, little buddy-in-chief. I'm still thinking about our last case," His hand grips tighter on the window sill, "The Internet said it was working for somebody named Roy G. Biv. Obviously a pseudonym, but for who? Or whom?"

(Y/N)'s mouth curves downward, remembering the acronym The Internet had choked out during her final moments of life. They probably would've suggested the albino magician to be a brainwasher if their evidence wasn't so loose. Actually, they did mention the idea to Max, but he brushed that thought off as if the temp accidently bit their tongue too hard.

Max's grimace doesn't falter, "We're detectives, Sam, not mind readers," His beady fire-burning eyes light up, "Hey, maybe we should ask Hugh Bliss!"

Sam's expression mirrors the lagomorph, "Mind readers! That's it!" He puts his head down, sighing, "No, that's not it..."

Max turns his heel to (Y/N), "Oh hey, temporary-"

"What?" The temp responds impassively.

"I meant tempon!" Max blurts out, his grin shaken up as he holds his hand behind his back again, "Anyway...have you placed my 'Emetics: The Handbook for Multi-colored Happiness' by Hugh Bliss somewhere else?" He mentions as he holds his head higher to see if he left his book anywhere on the ground.