The Secret Series FanFic(Yo-Yoji x OC & Max-Ernest x Cass)

Chapter2- and now Introducing Max-Ernest

Max-Ernest, eleven-year-old aspiring stand-up comedian, had read the joke-really a riddle, if you want to get technical-in one of his seventeen joke books, and now he was trying it on each of his twenty-six classmates in turn.

None of his classmates laugh. Or even smiled.

But Max-Ernest was used to it. He never let what other people said upset him.

He was going to be the funniest and best stand-up comedian of all time. He just needed practice.

Max-Ernest looked around the school yard for a student who hadn't heard his joke yet. There was only one. She was squatting by the edge of the soccer field, a baseball cap on the ground bedside her.

He didn't know her personally because they didn't have any classes together. But he recognized her on the basis of a certain physical feature: her big, pointy ears.

Aside from his small size, the first thing you would have noticed about Max-Ernest was his hair. Each strand stood on end, as though he were a cartoon character who had just stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

His hairstyle was not a fashion choice; it was a philosophical one. Max-Ernest cut every hair on his head the exact same length because he didn't like to favour one hair over another. Hairs may be made of dead cells, he reasoned, but they're still growing things, and each one deserves to be treated fairly.

That hair is dead but still growing is what is known as a paradox: something that seems impossible but is nonetheless true. Max-Ernest was very fond of paradoxes, as he was of all kinds of riddles and puzzles and word games.

Max-Ernest also liked math. And history. And science. And just about any subject you can think of.

Despite his diminutive stature, Max-Ernest attracted attention whenever he went. He couldn't help it. As you will soon discover yourself, Max-Ernest was a talker. A big talker. He talked all the time. Even in his sleep.

His "condition," as his parents called it, was so extreme that they'd taken him to numerous experts in hopes of finding a diagnosis.

The first expert said he had attention deficit disorder. The second expert said the first was out of order. One expert said he was autistic, another that he was artistic. One said he had Tourette's syndrome. One said he had Asperger's syndrome. And one said the problem was that his parents had Munchausen syndrome.

Still another said all he needed was good old-fashioned spanking.

They gave them pills to take and exercises to practice. But the more ways people tried to cure him, the worse the problem got. Instead of stopping his talking, each cure gave him a new thing to talk about.

In the end, the experts weren't able to agree on a name for Max-Ernest's condition any more than his parents had been able to agree on a name for him.

!!!!INCOMPLETE!!!!

At the exact moment max-Ernest eyed her from across the school yard, Cassandra was digging in the mud with her bare hands. Dirt kept getting under her fingernails, and she muttered to herself that she should be wearing protective gloves. It wasn't like her to be so unprepared.

She glanced a few feet away to a spot under the bleachers, where a small gray furry thing was lying in the grass: a dead mouse.

Sure, maybe the mouse had died of natural causes, Cass thought. But then why was she smelling rotten eggs again? What if the mouse died the same thing as the magician? What if the whole town were built over a toxic waste dump? If she didn't do something about it, everybody she knew would perish!