Max stepped back into the room to find Sarah and Milosh waiting for him. "Is back! Milosh is very happy." Milosh gave Max a big warm hug.

"Any luck finding that Warlord guy yet?" Sarah asked.

"Not so far," Max said. "Just some prick cartoon mouse. Luckily I was able to defeat him using my brilliant wits. He's probably smeared over ten miles of train track by now. Between you and me I'm really glad that plan worked. The next thing I was going to try was dressing up like a sexy lady mouse and hope he fell in love with me. So what's been going on here?"

"My uncle and that Lothar guy went back to the lab to study the doors some more. Maurice stayed with them to provide assistance, since that's kind of his thing. I helped them carry the doors back there. Unfortunately, Vance had escaped by the time we got back. There was a tiny smashed chair and some broken ropes. My uncle thinks the shrinking ray wore off of him before it wore off of the chair he was tied to and that's how he was able to bust loose. At any rate he took off and there's no sign of him."

"Damn it," Max said and reached for his flask, which wasn't there. "Damn it," he said again.

"Oooh, pretty explosion," Milosh said.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Max asked.

"Spaceship blew up," Milosh said. "Is riding through space on a bed with my friends now. Is also playing spirited game of dodge ball back on Ingleblott."

"That means absolutely nothing whatsoever to me," Max said. "Sarah, you like to speak lots of gibberish. Do you know what he's talking about?"

"I don't have the slightest clue," Sarah shrugged. "And what do you mean I like to speak lots of gibberish?"

"I don't know. You chicks are always blabbering about something or other. I usually try to tune you out. Unless, of course, you're offering to buy me a drink, cook me a meal, or bestow sexual favors upon me."

"I forgot how charming your sexism can be," Sarah said. "You've actually been halfway tolerable to hang out with lately. Don't push it, frog."

"Halfway tolerable, you say," Max said. "I knew it. You're warming up to me. We're going to be boinking for sure in the very near future. And that's toad to you, lady."

"Why don't you go explore another universe?" Sarah said.

"I think I will," Max said. "That creep's got to be somewhere with my flask. After I get it back I'll return and we'll have ourselves a little celebration. I'll even let you give me a hand job, if you want."

"Is not sure what hand job is, but okay," Milosh said. "Milosh likes celebrations."

"I wasn't talking to you, mister," Max said. "Jeez, I've gone way too long without getting shit-faced. If I don't find this guy this time we're hitting a bar when I get back. You got it?"

"Is singing traditional Ingleblottian drinking song at the tavern right now," Milosh said. "Is also really schooling self in a game of shuffleboard."

"Whatever you say, big guy," Max said as he moved the door to another location and flung it open. "Let's see where the hell this thing goes now."

*

Max found himself in a small, dark, messy room. Some guy was sitting in a beat up swivel chair while staring at a bright screen and typing away. Max sneaked up quietly behind him and peeked over his shoulder. On the screen he read about himself entering a small, dark messy room where some guy was sitting in a beat up swivel chair, staring at a bright screen and typing away. Then he read the part where he sneaked up behind the guy and started reading over his shoulder.

What the hell? Max thought to himself as he watched the guy type the words "What the hell? Max thought to himself."

Max waved both of his arms over his head and stuck his tongue out. Sure enough, the guy typed a line about Max waving his arms and sticking his tongue out. Then he typed about typing that.

"I don't know what the hell is going on here, but this is really freaky," Max said as he grabbed the back of the chair and swiveled it around.

"Oh hello," I said as I looked at Max. "I was expecting you to show up right about now."

"What is the meaning of this?" Max asked.

"I'm writing a book," I explained. "I just got to the part where you came into the room and saw me writing the book."

"Aha!" Max shouted. "I had a vision about this once when I was wearing the God helmet. I am trapped in a book. And it is being written by some sick fuck. And you, mister, are that sick fuck. I've just got to ask what the hell is wrong with you anyway?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. "You're the one that's doing stuff. I'm just typing."

"You're not controlling me?" Max asked. "Like a puppet tied to your sick, twisted little strings?"

"No, I'm not controlling you," I said. "You do what you do and I type it. You think you're trapped? I'm the idiot that's sitting here spending hours on end typing about you."

"Well, I am pretty amazing," Max said. "And my numerous exciting adventures are definitely worth chronicling. I suppose I give you permission to carry on."

"That's good to know," I said as I turned around and typed out all of the stuff that just happened.

"Hey," Max said. "Since you're writing everything that's happening, why don't we flip to the end and see what happens."

"I can't do that," I said.

"Well why the fuck not?" Max asked.

"Because I haven't written it yet. I'm only up to the part that's happening right now."

"Then what the hell good are you?" Max asked. He got a contemplative look on his face. "Hey, what's that over there?"

THE BRILLIANT AND HANDSOME TOAD MAX REACHED FORWARD WHILE THE WEIRD GUY WAS DISTRACTED AND BEGAN TYPING. A TWO GALLON JUG OF THE FINEST ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE EVER BREWED APPEARED IN HIS HAND AND HE BEGAN DRINKING IT. A SMOKING HOT BLONDE WITH ENORMOUS BAZOOMBAS MATERIALIZED IN HIS OTHER ARM. A BIG FAT STOGIE APPEARED IN HIS MOUTH AND HE TOOK A DEEP SATISFYING PUFF OFF OF IT. HIS POCKETS WERE STUFFED WITH FLOSS AND HE WAS NOW THE RICHEST MAN IN THE WORLD. ALSO BEST LOOKING. DID I MENTION THAT PART? THE HOT BLONDE CHICK ASKED HIM IF HE WANTED TO GO SKINNY DIPPING WITH HER THREE ROOMMATES WHO WERE EVEN HOTTER THAN HER. THEIR LOFT HAPPENED TO BE LOCATED ABOVE A LIQUOR STORE AND THEY COULD BRING ALONG AS MUCH BOOZE AS WAS NEEDED. EVERYONE COLLECTIVELY AGREED THAT THEY SHOULD START REFERRING TO HIM AS MAX THE GREAT FOR TRULY HE WAS A GOD AMONG MEN.

I pushed Max away from the keyboard as I took control of it again. I turned off the caps lock button, which he had turned on somehow and made the women and the cigar and the giant bottle of alcohol and all the floss in his pocket disappear.

"You're no fun," Max said. "You couldn't at least let me keep the bottle of booze? I'm dying of thirst here."

"Fine," I said as I typed a line about a glass of whiskey appearing in his hand and one instantly appeared in his hand. "I guess I can do little parlor tricks like that, but I'm really not controlling anything here. I took that stuff away from you because you're not supposed to have it."

"What the hell do you mean I'm not supposed to have it?" Max asked.

"You wouldn't be Max if you had all that stuff. You'd be some other guy."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was clearly writing about myself. After all I am brilliant and handsome and everyone should call me Max the Great."

"But they don't," I said. "Look, I could start writing about someone named Max the Great who has lots of money and women throwing themselves at him, but it wouldn't be you. It would be some completely different person in a completely different story and the story we're in right now would kind of just be left hanging there unfinished. That would be pretty unsatisfying for everyone, I think. Also kind of confusing."

"Since you put it that way, I guess I see your point," Max said. "I wouldn't want to disappear mid-story while some other jackass gets all the money and women. I guess I'll just have to go earn that stuff myself by the end of this story. Can you at least tell me where that guy went with my flask?"

"He's not here," I said. "I think Zeke encountered him a few chapters ago."

"Zeke? Is that guy floating around this story somewhere? Tell him he owes me a drink. He doesn't, but tell him he does anyway. Maybe he'll fall for it. Of course, knowing that guy he's probably going to get himself killed by the creep in the black robe. And he'll probably somehow manage to get my flask destroyed in the process, that jerk. Tell him he owes me two drinks. And a flask."

"I can't actually talk to him unless he comes here in person like you did," I said.

"Whatever. Just plant the idea in his head then. Anyway I'd probably better get back so you can actually, like, advance the story and so we don't spend the rest of the book standing in here talking to each other. Because no one wants to read about that." He gulped down the whiskey, slammed the empty glass down on my desk, and walked out the door.