Ah, Sunday. It was the day for lazing about on the couch and falling asleep while watching sweet sweet infomercials and home shopping networks. Max didn't know why, but he was oddly intrigued by them. Today he had the option of buying a sapphire ring (with real gold band for only $999.99!), some slimming women's clothing (in five great colors, including NEW CAMEL!), or a fire engine red Keurig machine. He settled on watching the Keurig ads, though he did find himself guiltily checking over his shoulder to ensure Mr. Coffee was not watching him indulge. Mr. Coffee was so jealous of Keurigs. Thankfully, his coffee-maker friend was in the kitchen, inspecting the newly-washed dishes for hard water spots.

The host of the home shopping show was just about to showcase the range of coffee flavors available for the fire engine machine when Maxim felt his eyes get heavy. This always happened. Right before he could get into the meat of this educational program, his brain decided to go into sleep mode. Ah well, at least it saved his wallet from regurgitating his hard-earned cash.

Just as Max faded into a dream, he was thrust back into consciousness by a sudden outcry. Startled, he glanced around the room. It did not seem to be anyone here. Mr. Coffee was still distracted in the kitchen, Toasty was reciting a poem, the pens were having an argument about superior ink colors, and Epson was happily churning out Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya." Max had just let his eyelids droop again when the outcry came again, louder this time and longer. Soon the cry of one turned into the cry of many, peaking into single crescendo of a thousand screams of utmost terror and confusion. No, it did not come from here. It was further away, Max decided, and launched up from the couch.

"I'll be right back, Mr. Coffee," he yelled over his shoulder as he grabbed his backpack from its hook and ran out the door to investigate.

"Wait, where are you going?" Mr. Coffee yelled back, but his inquiry fell upon deaf ears and Max was soon out of earshot. "Pffft, stupid human."

Max could hear that he was close after having run down the streets like a madman and almost getting hit by three different cab drivers. The other five that drove by were familiar with Max's crazed antics and knew enough to steer clear. His ears did not fail him on this day, as they directed him to the friendly neighborhood T.V. Hut on Stewart and 13th. Ah, glorious T.V Hut. Max knew it well. And unfortunately, all the clerks in the shop knew [i]him[/i] well. He tried not to think about the last time he was in the shop and almost got arrested because he took a crying VCR out of their dumpster. How is it stealing if you are throwing it away? Come on now, technology has feelings, too.

Smoke was now pouring out of the shop and something that smelled incredibly foul was seeping from its doors. A man stood nearby looking quizzically at a notebook, and what almost looked like a very small dragon burst into flames overhead. Talk about a strange day. Max could not tell what was going on inside the shop, but it sounded like a brawl. Breakfast foods and electronics were flying this way and that, and several people seemed to be inside. Heck, he could have sworn he saw a cowboy, too. Not wanting to get involved, he almost kept walking down the street but then the voice of a sweet innocent new Bic pen -- with erasable ink even! -- cried out a woeful sob that touched his heart. They were hurting innocents, and he had to do something!

With a burst of heroism, he shoved the front glass doors open and bounded inside. "Never fear my darlings, OFFICE MAX IS HERE!"