There's still no sign of Max...

But I keep seeing shadowy figures from the corner of my eye - black cars parked on street corners, suited men watching me from cafes and smoothie bars, strange fat kids attempting to skateboard even though they clearly lack the skill or dexterity, and so on. Still smarting from my last, tattoo-based encounter with Max's possible abductors, I've decided to cut my loses and look for a replacement cliched foolish sidekick friend.
 (Ah, the old strikethrough trick. Never gets old.)

I took another look across my living room. The assembled cast left something to be desired: a fat alsatian sat on my priceless rug, a family heirloom inherited from my grandmother. On his face, a look that said: "I'm not incontinent. Yet". Attached to the dog by way of a lead was a large, hairy man wearing a pair of dark glasses. Despite the impression he clearly knew he was creating, he appeared quite capable of sight, and was right now devouring a magazine with his eyes. Beside him, a large skinhead in a vest. The third candidate for my replace Max competition appeared to be a pirate. I smiled politely as I caught his eye, and he grinned back, revealing the fact he was also, apparently, a vampire. My smile wained, and I headed back into my office, ready to interview the first applicant.
 I don't really have an office. I was the toilet. I was making them sit in the hall. I just wanted to impress you all, and not let you know I take strange men into my bathroom.

Sitting down (yes, on the toilet. But I threw some drapes over it and put a cushion on the seat to make it homely) I prepared to interview the candidates.

(Image stolen from devepxp)