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Description
The chase was goosier than a story-telling water fowl wearing round glasses and a bonnet. But this was no fairytale, and the only mothers outside tonight were the ones wailing to the gray streets for the boys they lost to the city. The perp led me through every twisted curve of New York, twining us both through the streets like a fifty-cent pipe cleaner with all the fuzz stripped off.

But I didn't give up the chase. He'd taken something too valuable from me. I've lost many things over the years--my hat, my partner, my way, and now, my tie. No sleazy crook was going to take the only thing I had left from happier times.

Finally, after hours of tailing, I cornered the perp in a grimy alley behind Stinky's Diner. He was a short rabbity-thing with long ears and an adorable fluffy tail, a spitting image of the partner I lost long ago. I should have been shocked at the resemblance, but all I felt was rage, hot and frothing over like the Volcano Magma Stew specialty at Stinky's. Max never would have stood for two-bit thievery like this. At least not when we were the victims.

When he turned to face me, I saw it: my tie, wrapped around his left ear. I lunged forward and grabbed the fabric, hauling him up by the ear to stare into those blank, glassy eyes. I thought he had to be on some kind of mind-altering hoo-doo drug, but all he did was grin lazily at me, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth.

"Heya, Mac," he drawled.

I gave the tie a rough shake, growling as he swung back and forth almost nonchalantly. "You have something that belongs to me, buddy."

The lagomorph's grin widened. "I had something that belonged to me, too, see? As a matter a' fact, you're wearin' his face."

He even sounded like Max--or he would have, had Max been a gangster with a bad accent and an even worse head cold. But I'd heard this kind of loony tune before. That deranged look in his glazed eyes; it's the one I saw every time I looked in a mirror. Only angrier. Much angrier. I nursed more pent-up fury than a bull at a tomato festival, while this bunny didn't seem to have a care in the world. Like looking into the distorted reflection of a rusty soup spoon.

"Here's the deal," I rumbled, raising him to eye level with me. "I'll give you ten seconds to squirm out of my tie like the belly-crawler you are. Any extra is your head start." Then, with a snarl, I shook him again. "If you're not untangled by then, I'll just start pulling until either the tie or your head comes off."

The rabbit giggled. I looked down to see a luger pistol gripped in his fluffy paw, pointed straight towards the cold weight in my chest that used to be a heart.

"I got a better idea!" He chirped in that nasally voice, the barrel of his gun drifting up and down languidly. "I'm gonna drill ya right in the ticker, see? And then I'm gonna take ya back with me through the machine. I know a broad what used to do taxy-dermy. Gonna put ya right next to the other one."

A sudden realization pounded through my veins like a shot of pure Banang syrup into a boiling hot cup of espresso. Narrowing my eyes, I scanned the rabbit up and down slowly, taking in every bit of scruffy fur, every serrated edge of his teeth. It couldn't be. But if it wasn't, it was a damn perfect replica. Too perfect.

Only one way to find out.

I snorted and jerked my head towards his pistol. "Where the hell were you keeping that, bunny?"

He smiled so widely it's a wonder his face didn't split in half. "None of your damn business, Mac."

Sam & Max (c) Steve Purcell
The Devil's Playhouse created by Telltale Games

Description
The chase was goosier than a story-telling water fowl wearing round glasses and a bonnet. But this was no fairytale, and the only mothers outside tonight were the ones wailing to the gray streets for the boys they lost to the city. The perp led me through every twisted curve of New York, twining us both through the streets like a fifty-cent pipe cleaner with all the fuzz stripped off.

But I didn't give up the chase. He'd taken something too valuable from me. I've lost many things over the years--my hat, my partner, my way, and now, my tie. No sleazy crook was going to take the only thing I had left from happier times.

Finally, after hours of tailing, I cornered the perp in a grimy alley behind Stinky's Diner. He was a short rabbity-thing with long ears and an adorable fluffy tail, a spitting image of the partner I lost long ago. I should have been shocked at the resemblance, but all I felt was rage, hot and frothing over like the Volcano Magma Stew specialty at Stinky's. Max never would have stood for two-bit thievery like this. At least not when we were the victims.

When he turned to face me, I saw it: my tie, wrapped around his left ear. I lunged forward and grabbed the fabric, hauling him up by the ear to stare into those blank, glassy eyes. I thought he had to be on some kind of mind-altering hoo-doo drug, but all he did was grin lazily at me, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth.

"Heya, Mac," he drawled.

I gave the tie a rough shake, growling as he swung back and forth almost nonchalantly. "You have something that belongs to me, buddy."

The lagomorph's grin widened. "I had something that belonged to me, too, see? As a matter a' fact, you're wearin' his face."

He even sounded like Max--or he would have, had Max been a gangster with a bad accent and an even worse head cold. But I'd heard this kind of loony tune before. That deranged look in his glazed eyes; it's the one I saw every time I looked in a mirror. Only angrier. Much angrier. I nursed more pent-up fury than a bull at a tomato festival, while this bunny didn't seem to have a care in the world. Like looking into the distorted reflection of a rusty soup spoon.

"Here's the deal," I rumbled, raising him to eye level with me. "I'll give you ten seconds to squirm out of my tie like the belly-crawler you are. Any extra is your head start." Then, with a snarl, I shook him again. "If you're not untangled by then, I'll just start pulling until either the tie or your head comes off."

The rabbit giggled. I looked down to see a luger pistol gripped in his fluffy paw, pointed straight towards the cold weight in my chest that used to be a heart.

"I got a better idea!" He chirped in that nasally voice, the barrel of his gun drifting up and down languidly. "I'm gonna drill ya right in the ticker, see? And then I'm gonna take ya back with me through the machine. I know a broad what used to do taxy-dermy. Gonna put ya right next to the other one."

A sudden realization pounded through my veins like a shot of pure Banang syrup into a boiling hot cup of espresso. Narrowing my eyes, I scanned the rabbit up and down slowly, taking in every bit of scruffy fur, every serrated edge of his teeth. It couldn't be. But if it wasn't, it was a damn perfect replica. Too perfect.

Only one way to find out.

I snorted and jerked my head towards his pistol. "Where the hell were you keeping that, bunny?"

He smiled so widely it's a wonder his face didn't split in half. "None of your damn business, Mac."

Sam & Max (c) Steve Purcell
The Devil's Playhouse created by Telltale Games