"Oh, sure," Max grunted, "easy for you. You've

"Oh, sure," Max grunted, "easy for you. You've never spent one minute in a zombie brothel, much less an hour trying to sort out what's left over after a

zombie "happy ending." All this Zombie talk bored the crap out of "The Eliminator." Max's bravado was lame. Zombie battles are nothing compared to Zelinian Hydras from sector

Pandromeda. Plus, zombies were just rotted corpses; not that effective. Even the West Mississippi Plastic Pants Task Force could flamethrower them. Zelinian Hydras scared Max tho.

Hell, the Teletubbies scared Max. He was in over his head in this space war, having been commissioned straight out of Academy thanks to his godzillionaire father's influence. Now

fourteen billion Quinliks were bearing down on Max's outpost, with unclear intentions. Max couldn't remember: Were the Quinlikians signatories to the ceasefire?

Max fumbled around to find the key to the filing cabinet - it was in the coffee money jam jar. Yes! The Quinlikians had signed the ceasefire. Just then, plasma bolts tore the roof

Open to reveal the rainforest he had dreamed of, populated by wild horses. Max took out his paintbrush and created his masterpiece, with Yves Tanguy as a witness. "Voila!", Max

exclaimed with glee!! This was to be his best oil painting ever!! The wild horses dancing in the sunlight against the vibrant green of the trees and the

as the trees and mountains swayed in the presence of the spaghetti monster. The artist thinks that this is the best piece to ever have been made in the industry.