So, I'm back home. You know, with my mother, and the French Secret Service - who are still looking for Max. And Mr. Potato and Bigfoot, for some inexplicable reason.
Actually, I have no idea where this is going. Could Bigfoot be Peruvian on his mother's side? Let's just scrap this entire storyline, start something new... But wait, you people crave continuity. You're always telling me that... Well, ok then.
The house was on fire. No two ways about it - flames licked my my veranda, hot embers filled my bath, tongues of fire hotter than the whores of hell ascended my staircase. My mother, unimpressed, got out of the boot and left town. I'll probably never hear from her again. No loss, she was a useless literary tool. The French Secret Servicemen, smug looks on their faces, stood ankle-deep in my duck pond.
"Ha, monsieur. We warned you zis woul 'appen!" They shouted happily, "Where iz 'ee?"
To be honest, they hadn't warned me about this at all. And I still wasn't giving them Max. Sure, I wanted revenge on them for destroying my home, but I didn't hate the French enough to unleash Max on them again.