Chapter Text
A piercing shriek jolted Goofy awake. He let out a shriek of his own as he tumbled off his bed, tangled in his covers. Before he could untangle himself, Waffles, his cat, bounded over and nudged his head. He flung off the covers and Waffles, only to have his alarm clock clatter onto his head again as he tried to stand. "What the…?"
The shrieking started once more, and Goofy knew that voice better than his own. "Maxie!"
Jumping to his feet and grabbing his baseball bat, Goofy rocketed out of his room and burst into Max's. Kicking the door open, his ninja training really paid off, he brandished the bat at no one in particular and threatened, "Step away from my…"
"Daddy!"
A sudden bear hug knocked Goofy to the floor. He frowned in confusion at his son. "Daddy?"
Max looked up, his eyes tearful. "Oh, Daddy, I'm so glad you're here! Something terrible happened."
Goofy scratched his head. "What is it?"
Max threw out his arms dramatically. "I'm a boy!"
Goofy blinked. "That's what they told me at the hospital. I thought you knew."
Max slapped his hands to his cheeks and gasped. "But, Daddy, I'm a girl."
Goofy scratched his head again. "Maybe I didn't hear them right at the hospital."
Max began pacing around his father, his frightened gaze darting from one part of his room to another. "Aw, this is a nightmare. First, I wake up in this jungle! Seriously, who declared war on my room?! And this…" He held up his favorite red T-shirt. "…piece of garbage, major ew factor." He flung it over his shoulder in absolute dismay. "I thought I'd escape this freak show by taking a long shower, but when I went to the bathroom…" He trailed off, hiccupping in sorrow.
Goofy placed a gentle hand on the crying boy's shoulder. "What happened?"
Max's soft crying dissolved into wailing. "I saw it!"
"Saw what?"
Huge, glassy eyes looked up at Goofy, thick tears sliding down his son's cheeks. "My peepee."
Goofy's hand recoiled from Max's shoulder, and he bit at his gloved fingers in anxiety. "Is, uh, something wrong with it?"
Max glared at him through his tears. "Daddy, focus, I'm a girl."
"Right." Goofy nodded. Then stopped. "No, wrong." He stood up and pointed a finger at his son. "You're a boy, Maxie. For the past eleven years, you were…"
"Eleven and a half," Max corrected.
"Right. No, wrong! I mean, what was I saying?"
Max clung to his father's clothes, almost knocking him down again. "Daddy, we need to fix this. I can't stand my boy-raspy voice!" He ran a hand over his messy hair. "And I can't stand how short my hair is…" Catching his reflection in the mirror, Max let go of his father and walked toward it, touching his hair. "Hmm, I can work around this. This could be the cutest haircut ever."
Goofy released a loud yawn and stretched. "It's five o'clock in the morning, Max. We still have two hours to sleep."
"But, Daddy, I need to take a shower and fix my hair and get ready for school."
Goofy's jaw dropped. "Get… ready… for school?"
A cute little twirl of his hanging ear and a wink followed. "Well, duh!"
"Duh?"
Max started pushing his dad out of his bedroom. "It's okay, Daddy, you can go back to sleep now." A little giggle escaped him before he slammed the door shut behind his father.
Goofy caught himself before scratching his head for the third time. "Gawrsh. What just happened?"
~*~*~*~
The alarm clock buzzed. Waffles slapped the snooze button and burrowed under the covers with him, but Goofy pushed the covers away and sat up with a yawn. He scratched his back and rubbed his heavy-lidded eyes, walking out of his room to Max's with his eyes still firmly closed.
"Wake up, son…" A yawn broke through his mouth when, suddenly, a rosy scent hit his nose. Goofy opened his eyes and let out a loud gasp of complete shock. Max's room! Tidy. Spotless. His wide eyes searched the room for a single imperfection, but everything was sparkling and glistening. No clothes in sight. No toys lying around. And the bed was made! Both of them.
Then it hit him: Max's odd behavior this morning. He started racing down the stairs to the kitchen when a whiff of toasted bread sent his stomach growling with hunger. The first thing Goofy noticed was the pretty, so pretty, kitchen table: a thin white vase Goofy didn't know they had with two pretty flowers, a plate filled with sandwiches, a bowl of cornflakes, a bottle of milk, a plate of salad, two empty plates with a folded napkin on top, spoons, forks, knives, all set on top of a blanket that covered the table.
At the stove, Max put the scrambled eggs on a plate and walked toward the kitchen table. A sunny smile greeted Goofy when Max noticed him. "Oh, hi, Daddy."
Goofy pointed a shaking finger at the kitchen table. "What… what is this?"
"It's Tuesday. I always make breakfast on Tuesday."
Goofy took one of the sandwiches and looked at it with a scared gaze. "You made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?"
"That was the plan. But I couldn't find jelly, so I used jam instead." Max sat down on his chair and grinned up at his father. "Bon appetit."
Goofy was taken aback by the two pretty blue bows Max had tied on his ears. His boy unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap, then pulled the salad plate close and put some on his plate, eating and chewing on his veggies, not sparing a glance at the tasty goodness that lay before him.
Goofy slid into his chair, mouth still hanging open. "You… you're eating carrots," he said it as if it were a taboo word.
"My diet. Gotta watch out for those pesky calories."
"So, all of this…"
"Is for you, Daddy." Max tapped the edges of his lips with his napkin. "Oh, I gotta run." He grabbed his bag and kissed Goofy's cheek, "Love you, Daddy," before trotting out of the kitchen.
Goofy giggled bashfully, softly touching the spot where Max had kissed him. "Ah-yuck. I love having a girl."
~*~*~*~
PJ noticed a crowd of students surrounding his locker. Whispers and giggles were all the clue he needed to know that some poor sap was being gawked at and, sooner or later, would be pummeled. PJ leaned against the wall with a yawn and waited until the flock cleared. He hadn't had much sleep last night; Max's constant whining all the way home yesterday had deprived him of any rest. He couldn't say the same about his whiny best bud, though. That kid slept like a log; all PJ's attempts to wake him had been futile.
As the bell rang, each student raced to their classes, leaving the loser behind…
Wait a minute!
PJ rubbed his eyes and blinked to clear his vision. He rubbed and blinked again. No, no, not a dream. Still there.
What the…?
Smacking his head with his hands, PJ exclaimed, "Max!"
His best friend turned around and grinned at him. "Hey, Peejster."
Max, his best buddy in the whole world, his only buddy in the whole world, was wearing an oversized Scottish kilt that stayed on only due to a very large belt. He had on a small, tight blue shirt that was probably his when he was three years old, as it was too short to cover his belly. Two freaking blue bows were tied on his ears, and flowers were plastered on his backpack.
Mouth agape, back slouching, PJ dragged himself toward the clown that used to be his sane best friend. "Is this some sort of a joke?"
He scanned him again from top to bottom, until he realized that the whole episode with Marty yesterday probably had something to do with it. "Is this a disguise?"
Max pouted down at the kilt. "It was the only thing I could find that could pass for a skirt. My dad's to wear on Uncle Scrooge's birthday." He shrugged and then grinned bashfully. "I was trying to pull off a new fad, but it isn't working."
PJ's mouth was open, but no sound came out. He tried to talk, but only a strangled voice escaped his lips.
Max grabbed his arm and dragged him along. "C'mon, we'll be late for class."
PJ rubbed his forehead in exhaustion. The lack of sleep wasn't helpful at all. Maybe he was dreaming. He pinched himself. No, not dreaming. Maybe it was already Friday and Marty had beaten both of them into a coma.
PJ ducked his head in embarrassment when he caught Mr. Hammerhead's fierce stare, walking into the classroom late, now he'd call out their names and humiliate them.
The second PJ took a seat, "Peter Pete Junior?", he jumped up, almost knocking the desk down. He saluted his teacher. "Yes, sir!"
"You're two minutes late. Care to explain?"
"Oh, well, I was… well…" A nervous glance at Max, who looked as relaxed as Mr. G during a stormy night. "Uh, what was the question again?"
The teacher slapped his face in irritation. "Twenty pages on obeying classroom rules."
PJ nodded and sat down. "Yes, sir."
"Maximilian Goof?"
PJ blinked at Max, who remained relaxed in his chair.
"Maximilian Goof?"
PJ leaned closer to his insane-o-soon-to-become-dead-best-bud and hissed, "Max, psst, Max, the teacher is calling your name."
The loon shook his head. "No, he isn't."
"For the last time, Maximilian Goof?"
PJ gave him a look.
Max looked sincerely confused, finally standing up. "It's probably a mistake," he mumbled.
The teacher glared. "Hope I didn't interrupt a good dream?"
The students chuckled softly.
"I wasn't sleeping, sir," Max replied.
"Then why didn't you answer right away?"
"Because you were saying my name wrong."
PJ bit his lower lip and hid his face in his hands.
"Oh, really?" Mr. Hammerhead gritted out. "And what is your name?"
"Maxine Goof."
The students gasped and PJ's jaw hit his desk.