driftfleet | Video. happy birthday loser

Who: Max and you!
Broadcast: Video.
Action: Starstruck.
When: April 12th! Max's birthday. :)

(future-dated because I don't know my availability tomorrow lmfao)

[The screen is black.

There's quite a lot of shuffling; a sound of cardboard being knocked on or jostled around. Max's tell-tale hummmmmmm is heard. Footfalls. They walk in a circle around the mysterious box. Tap tap. It's suddenly clear: the video feed is inside a box! And slowly, with great caution, the man clearly identified by grumble as Max Rockatansky opens this cardboard box...

Only to have an explosion of confetti and whistles in his bewildered face.

He disappears from view for a moment, the sound of a gun cocking and going off, probably scaring any poor soul watching. The top of the box explodes with shotgun buckshot, and as he slowly wanders back over, his brow is furrowed and there's confetti on his head, in his facial fuzz. He slowly reaches down into the box... and pulls out a can of dog food. Dinki-Di's. His confusion is palpable. On the screen, where Max can't see, it flashes in bold, glittery letters:

The birthday theme plays on the loudspeakers.

And Max, realizing just what's happening, GROANS IN DISPLEASURE.

For fuck's sake.

As he rips the little camera from inside a box filled with dog food cans:]

[grmblegrumble] Smegheads— [grumble] fuck off— [grumble] head up your ass [grumble] —

[... But you can find him later in the Starstruck cargo bay, spooning dog food from a can into his mouth.

He switches between giving Rock the Dog a spoonful too, of course. He's gotten better about sharing, y'know.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[she lasts through the entire thing without laughing, until it gets to the grumbling cursing and she can't help it.

There's still laughter in her voice when she opens up the feed]

My, happy birthday, dear.

[omfg]

... How'sit you're always the one laughing at me.

Because I am usually amused by something you are saying or doing.

[No fair, he doesn't have a decent retort to that.

So he folds his arms and looks cross.]

S'all stupid.

[Max you're regressing to five-years-old, you're... forty... something. Whatever.]

[honey you always look cross]

So it is. What exactly is it that they gave you? I got shite alcohol for my birthday.

... Dog food.

[He probably would prefer it over booze, though.

Liquor just hampers judgement, and if he had that much, he may so something stupid with it.]

Kind we had back home, before things broke apart. Ate it sometimes.