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There are generally two types of comments I get about Max.

The first is from people who comment on how incredibly unrealistic a character she is. No one in the world, they say, much less a woman, could ever live that kind of lifestyle. I usually get a pass on Max's impossibility, though, because it is recognized that Max is my Wacky Neighbour character. She's the Urkel or Kramer of Leftover Soup. Such characters are expected to have unrealistic habits and beliefs, for comedy's sake. But make no mistake, these commenters say, there is absolutely no human being on the planet that could remotely exhibit Max's attitude, activity, or personal philosophy. Such people simply do not exist.

The second type of comment I get is "Dude! That's me!"


(Sunday afternoon, INT: WW and SW's apartment)

MH: Wow, this is kinda weird.
JH: What?
MH: Well, on the one hand, you guys got my adrenaline up, which as you know, tends to also trigger the ol' libido for me.
WW: That and horses, running water, techno music, boredom, stiff breezes, avocados...
MH: Indeed. And yet - don't take this the wrong way, sweetheart - after having watched you enact violence on a friend of mine, I literally cannot bring myself to be even remotely attracted to you.
WW: Good God, I hope that's temporary.
MH: Oh, you know me, I snap back like a rubber band. It's weird, though, I don't think I've ever been in a situation where I can't armwrestle my procreative urge into finding something or someone attractive.
WW: Well, you could have a go with Jamie, here. The vetting process exists for a reason.
JH: I assumed the punch in the face meant I was off the list.
WW: You're lucky, I hadn't actually gotten around to updating the list yet.