Sam and max stories

Steamed dogs

(art by me) 

Sam knocks on Max's door, which Max opens.

"Well max, I made it, despite your directions." Sam says. Max smiles. "Ah, Sam, welcome! I hope you're prepared for an unforgettable luncheon!" "yeah." Sam says as Max walks him in.

Sam sits down while Max goes to check on the roast he was cooking.

But Max lets out a horrified gasp when he sees smoke coming out of the oven. "Oh egads!"

He goes to the stove, opening it. "My roast is ruined!" He closes the oven. He thinks. "But what if... I was to purchase fast food and disguise it as my own cooking?" he grins and shuffles his hands. "Ohohohoho, Delightfully devilish, max!"

But as soon as he opens the window and starts to climb out, Sam walks in. "ah-" He looks at Max sternly.

~Max, with his crazy explanations, Sam is gonna need some medication, when he hears Max's lame exaggeration, there'll be trouble in town tonight!~

"MAAAAAAX!" Sam yells angrily.

"SAM!" Max sweats. "I was just- stretching my calves on the windowsill!" he stretches. "Isometric exercise! Care to join me?" he nervously smiles.

Sam looks to the oven. "Why is there smoke coming out of your oven, max?" Max sweats more. "OH! That isn't smoke! It's- it's steam! Steam from the steamed frogs we're having!" He rubs his stomach and licks his lips. "Mmmm, steamed frogs!"

Sam looks suspicious, but closes the door.

"Phew!" Max says, wiping the sweat off his forehead and climbing out the window and dashing off down the street.

A few minutes later, Max walks into the dining room holding a plate. "Sam, I hope you're ready for mouth watering corn dogs!" Sam looks at him. "I thought we were having steamed frogs." Max sets the plate down. "oh, no! I said steamed DOGS. That's what I call corn dogs." Sam raises an eyebrow. "You call corn dogs 'steamed dogs?'" Max nods. "Yes! Its, uh, a regional dialect.'' Sam looks suspicious. "Uh huh. What region? '' Max sweats. "Uhhh, upstate New York." Sam squints. "Really? Well I'm from Utica, and I've never heard anyone use the phrase 'steamed dogs'." Max looks away. "Oh no, not in Utica, no, it's an Albany expression." Sam nods. "I see.

They start to eat. "You know, these corn dogs are quite similar to the ones they have at Stinky's diner." "Ohohohoho no! Patented max dogs! Old family recipe!" Max says. Sam looks suspicious. "For steamed dogs." Max nods. "Yes!" Sam holds one up. "Yes, and you call them 'steamed dogs', despite the fact they are obviously fried." he points to the coating.

Max starts to sweat. "Y-uh...you know the-...one thing is sh–..." he gets up. "Scuse me for one second." "Of course." Max runs into the kitchen.

He comes back out a minute later, fake yawning. "Ah, well, that was wonderful! A good time was had by all! I'm pooped!" Sam gets up as well. "Yes, I should be- GOOD LORD WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THERE!?" he yells, pointing to the kitchen. Max panics. "Aurora borealis!" "ACH-" Sam looks at him blankly. "AURORA BOREALIS?! At THIS time of year, at THIS time of day, in THIS part of the country, localized ENTIRELY within your kitchen?!" he yell-asks.

Max thinks for a second. "Yes!" he says, smiling.

Sam's expression softens. "May I see it?"

Max thinks for another minute. "No."

A few seconds later, they both walk outside. "MAXWELL! THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!" a woman's voice called. "No mother, it's just the northern lights." max answers.

Sam looks him in the eye. "Well, Max, you are an odd fellow, but I must say," he smiles. "You steam a good dog." he starts to walk away.

"HEEEEELP! HEEEELP!" Max's mother calls.

Sam turns around, looking concerned. Max gives him a thumbs up, and he continues walking away.

A fire engine drives down the road.