 connoisseur of comfort ❅ Crayola's Wibby Mrs Alex Turner ❅ Netflix and meow
And the worst part? The new Professor didn't even seem to acknowledge the bizarre situation. Didn't even bat one droopy old wrinkly eyelid. She'd just gone ahead and let a whole gang of Maxes come in and take a seat.
He knew he had an active imagination, but not THIS active. Surely not. He was LITERALLY sitting next to HIMSELF. The REAL Max Carden eyed his clone deskmate suspiciously. It was like looking into a mirror. And..... wow, his hair was looking pretty good actually.
BUT NO! THIS WAS WEIRD. WHY HIM!?!?!?!
Rubbing his eyes, Max tried to block out the intruders and instead turned his attention to the Professor. Concentrate, Max, this is aaaaaall just your imagination. Something that he found irritating......? Ummmm.
Hey, soggy socks was actually a good answer. Soggy socks were the WORST. He quickly raised a hand in the air.
"I agree with Max, Professor." Wait. "I mean... I agree with me.... I mean......"
His head hurt.
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