#52

[tank_rockarms]

((Max decided that he would be noble and let other people get the antidote and he would die doing the things he loved.))

[PRIVATE LEVEL 0]
THINGS I HAVE TO DO:

CALL MOM - DID IT, WORST HOUR OF MY LIFE
BENCH PRESS 1,500 POUNDS - I NEED SOMEBODY TO SPOT ME FOR THIS, SOMEBODY BEEFY
PUNCH HAWKE
BLOW SOMETHING UP - I NEED SOMETHING TO BLOW UP (I HAVE A TANK)
HAVE SEX
[END PRIVATE LEVEL 0]

1. I NEED SOMEBODY TO SPOT ME - KNUCKLES, WERESONIC, GANONDORF???

2. IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING YOU NEED BLOWN UP TELL ME, I WILL DO IT.

3. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY. I NEED A GIRL TO HAVE SEX WITH. DOES ANYBODY WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ME? GIRLS, NOT GUYS.

Comments

[tank-rockarms.livejournal.com]

::Oh crap oh crap oh crap where am I going to get a lady now?::

::Well I wonder::

::Maybe::

::It's worth a shot::

::If anybody would know, maybe he would::

::Max hurriedly goes over to his discarded pantaloons and retrieves his cellular teleradiophone from a pocket (and also a protein bar, he was starving and he dialed a phone number::

::RING RING RING::

::RING RING RING::

[raced_god]

[And LO. An answer. Mr. Captain Falcon seems incredibly distracted by something and there may or may not be two voices in the background.]

...Hello?

[tank-rockarms.livejournal.com]

Listen, I ain't got enough time to explain, so just hear me out.

I need a girl. I need a girl now.

To have sex with.

Do you know any girls. I can have sex with. In the next... hour.

[raced_god]

[Silence. But you can kind of hear someone in the background asking "Who is that, what are they saying is that one of your friends?"]

Not any that...would do it for free.

[tank-rockarms.livejournal.com]

Oh. Well.

::there is a tiny pause::

Yeah sure, fine. I've been in the army. I know how this works.

[raced_god]

I don't...have any numbers...off the top of my head, I would have to...look them up...real quick.

[Whoever is in the background seems really super interested in this phone conversation.]

[tank-rockarms.livejournal.com]

Okay, if you can get 'em real quick that's okay.

Are you busy or somethin'? It sounds like you're at someplace loud.

[raced_god]

Okay. Hang on a second.

[There is the sound of Falcon perhaps getting up and trying to go somewhere else while that very inquisitive voice continues inquiring.]

No, not...terribly busy. Let me just look through some numbers...

[tank-rockarms.livejournal.com]

Okay, thanks.

...

So who is that in the background? She sounds bossy.

[raced_god]

Oh uh.

That is...that would be my mother.

[tank-rockarms.livejournal.com]

Oh hell, I'm askin' you for prostitutes' phone numbers while your mom's in the room?

Shit. Damn.

Uh. Please tell her hello for me.

[raced_god]

Yes. But that's okay, because this is apparently an emergency.

[Falcon's voice becomes a little muffled because he is turning away from the phone.]

Max says hello.

[And he's back!]

Do you have something to write with?

[tank-rockarms.livejournal.com]

Uhhhhhhhhh...

::THE HOTEL NOTEPAD AND PEN ARE ON A DESK, IT IS A MIRACLE::

Yes. Yes I do.

[raced_god]

[And so, Falcon dictates several numbers belonging to reputable women of ill-repute.]

Anything else I can do for you?

[tank-rockarms.livejournal.com]

No, that's all.

::there is an awkward pause::

Thank you. It was an honor to serve with you, sir.