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It was, as always, a stealthy mission. If he knew they were coming—any of them—he’d pitch a fit, pack up and leave town before they could get there, let alone make a scene.
So, after telling the stick-in-the-muds they were going across country for ice cream, they crept in under cover of darkness, wearing cloaks and hoods, and felt very sneaky until they… actually… crossed state line.
Then they realised the people in this state tended to be really, really tall, and they… weren’t.
Still. No one really gave them much more than a second glance, and so they snickered and made their way to the state college, and then spread out to find their prey.
And by spread out, they of course meant split into two teams: triplets on one side and the big guy on the other. It had always worked before.
Sure enough, it only took them an hour to find the Java Bean, and less than thirty seconds after that to see the slumped figure in the corner, rubbing his forehead and poring over a thick book.
Three identical evil grins split their faces as they hurried over to kneel in the booth behind. They waited, watching closely, as he distractedly reached for a cup of coffee and raised it to his lips.
“Hey—”
“—there—”
“—Maxy!”
The reaction could have been better. They were expecting a scream, or at least having him leap over the table in fright. But all they got was a hand spasm that threw the cup up, and he, in true form, yelped and lunged after it, tossing it between his fingers six times before he managed to save the cup but splash the hot coffee all over himself and his books. He cried out, shooting to his feet as he stared at it all, then spun around, already glaring with both fists clenched.
“YOU!”
“Surprise!” they said in unison, not at all daunted by the heavy breathing, fiery eyes or canine-bared snarl that promised their slow roasted, kentucky-marinated deaths. For they were the infamous Duck Triplets Huey, Dewey and Louie, who had grown up under the temper tantrums of Donald Duck, and after all, Max Goof was—mostly—harmless.
“What are you three doing here.” It wasn’t a question, and it was ground out between clenched teeth. “This is Cutler State College. In Cutler. You live in Beverly Hills. What are you doing here.”
“Oh, Maxy,” Huey began wistfully.
“You really think we’d let you run off to college and forget us?” Dewey asked, shaking his head in shame.
“We had to come and visit, since you forgot to invite us earlier,” Louie explained.
“And besides, you’re big news back home!” Huey continued.
“And not just that X-Games thing,” Dewey interjected.
“You’re the only one of the family that got into a public school!” Louie cried.
“Uncle Scrooge paid for us,” Huey continued, oddly proud, to Max’s ears.
“Except for Dewey,” Louie corrected. “He got in on a scholarship.”
“You guys coulda too, if you’d tried,” he pointed out, before they all jerked their attention back to the simmering Max. They grinned.
“Aren’t you glad to see us, Maxy?”
As if in answer, a large drop of coffee lost its fight against gravity and slowly slid down Max’s scruffy hair, dangling in front of his eyes for a second before dripping to the ground. His right eye twitched once.
“Why is it,” he demanded, in that quiet, furious way of his, “that every time I get a taste of normal life, maybe a hint of making a name for myself, some-”
“Hey, Maximillion,” a new voice interrupted, and Max blanched. He leapt forward, and the triplets all quacked on impulse as he shoved them down under their table. He held them down as two sets of legs—one heavy and slouching, one petite but firm—stepped up near the table.
“H-hey guys! What’s up! I’m just studying, nothing interesting, you probably want some alone time huh, there’s a table over there in that far corner! Better go grab it before someone else does. Good seeing you, Snaps, see ya later Peej!”
“Uhh… Max? You okay, man?” The triplets exchanged glances, silently agreeing that they recognised the voice as Max’s best friend, PJ.
“Just fine, why wouldn’t I be fine, there’s nothing strange going on!”
“Your freak is messing with my beat, Maximillion,” the smooth voice from earlier commented. “Why don’t you come rap with us about what’s causing all this… spastastic fuss?”
“What’re you holding down there?”
“Nothing!” he squeaked, then coughed and shoved the triplets down further. “Just holding the seats closed because they’re ripping and the waitress just went off to get some tape and so I have to hold them shut until she comes back or the stuffing’ll go everywhere. That would be bad.”
“Oh Maxy,” Louie said with a wistful smile, and Dewey clasped his hands under his chin with a mocking sigh.
“How I missed this.”
“Shall we help him dig his grave further?” asked Huey, and the other two nodded, but before they could, Max’s fingers curled, pulling on their feathers in a way he had to know hurt like a bad itch.
“Oh, you asked for it now, buster!” Huey ground out, and thumped the table with his fist. Max’s fingers tightened in threat, but all three triplets just banged on the table even harder.
“Wait, no, Peej, it’s nothing! Just giant rats! You don’t have to – oh no…”
PJ crouched down to peer under the table, and the triplets grinned back, waving merrily. He stared at them for a moment as recognition spawned, though they couldn’t really be surprised it took him so long. His father had been a thorn in all their sides for so long, but he’d never been part of the family, like Goofy or Max. So PJ had only met them when Max couldn’t stop them from interfering.
His eyelids drooped as he stared, clearly unimpressed by their presence, before he sighed and stood up. There was a long pause, before PJ said sympathetically, “Try and keep cool, man. C’mon, Java Bean, let Max have his freak out. I’ll explain later.”
There was another pause as the legs walked away, and Max released them, only to vault the booth and slide in under the table with them, where he began glaring again.
“Look, I’m coming to the Christmas thing, okay? I even helped out at the House last year. What do you guys want?”
“What, we have to want something to come see you?” asked Dewey.
“That’s low, Max. Real low,” Louie said sadly.
“You’re our friend, Max! Family!” Huey shifted around to swing an arm over Max’s shoulders. “We saw you on TV and figured we should come wish you well as a college hero!”
Max frowned at him for a long moment, until it filtered in, at which point horror became the new look. “Mickey saw the X-Games. My message to Dad.”
“There we go!” Huey clapped him on the chest. “We always knew you were the smart one!”
“Oh, jeez, come on, guys, give me a break!” he begged. “Dad and I are fine! I’m not taking him for granted, and you don’t need to teach me some big lesson about respect or family values or anything, okay? So go find the mouse and go home!”
“Aw, come on, Max, you know how this goes,” Louie said, and ticked it off on his fingers as his brothers continued.
“Mickey decides something needs fixing.”
“Mickey picks at it until it’s fixed.”
“Even if he makes it worse along the way.”
“And you just smile, nod, and learn your lesson like a good boy.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Max muttered, burying his head in his hands. “One day I’m gonna figure out what I did to deserve this.”
“We figure you were born,” Huey said helpfully. “Your dad’s so lucky, someone has to balance it out!”
Max just sobbed into his hands.
“Max’s father is the Goofy Goof?!”
PJ stopped halfway through licking the foam off his stirrer to stare at his girlfriend. She looked like she was in shock. Too much shock, apparently, to be pretentious and philosophic. He hesitated, then realised he could understand why and continued.
“Yup. Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Goofy Goof… like that,” he said blankly.
“But – but – he’s Max’s father,” she said, still gaping. “He was like, a mess.”
“Yup.”
“What on earth is Max doing here, then?” she demanded. “He could be in Hollywood! He could be rich and famous! And he loves attention. Why wouldn’t he at least boast about it? Take advantage of it?”
That made PJ stop again, as he suddenly remembered how Max came off to other people who didn’t know… everything. Sulky, manipulative and self-absorbed. He supposed, when he thought about it, even people who knew what Goofy was like just… wouldn’t get it.
He sighed, shrugged, and went back to his coffee. Maybe he’d explain it later.
It was a jarring reminder of her situation when Sylvia came down the stairs one morning, after spending the night with Goofy, to meet Max as he came in the front door.
She froze, immediately feeling awkward, and blushed when she realised she was only wearing one of Goofy’s shirts. The young man that was stepping over the threshold was her boyfriend’s son. She’d barely spent any time with him, and now here they were, alone, in his father’s house, on a Saturday morning, with her half-naked, clearly not there for platonic tea and cookies!
And yet Max only looked at her, grimaced a little, and dropped his bag by the door. “Hey, Miss Marpole. You want coffee?” he asked, and headed into the kitchen.
She remained frozen for several seconds, staring at nothing. Then she remembered this was Goofy’s son, and he was a bit of a jerk. With that in mind, she grabbed a coat from the hook to cover herself and followed after him, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
Max continued to play it cool, rummaging in the fridge as he waited for the coffee, barely paying attention to her as she slid into the room and sat down at the table.
“Sorry to rock up without warning,” he said suddenly, waving a poptart in her general direction as he slammed the fridge shut, cream in hand. “But you know, there was this thing, and I guess I didn’t think. You take cream and sugar?”
“Black,” she said, still gazing at him defiantly as she waited for him to comment.
But he didn’t, pouring her a cup and passing it over before adding liberal amounts of cream to his own mug and sitting down opposite her. He rubbed his face, paused, and then sat back with a deep breath. “So I’m surprised the school let you out. There’s still like, a million people on campus. I was gonna spend half my break in the library – they didn’t close it, right?”
She frowned, trying to see his insinuation. But it really did sound like small talk. And not even the awkward, we-both-know-what-shameful-things-you-were-up-to-with-my-father kind. She hesitated, then said, “I’m on leave for a few days. I go back on Friday morning.”
“Oh, cool. You guys going anywhere, or is it just a break?” he asked absently, and she found herself beginning to stare, though Max honestly seemed more interested in his coffee.
You guys. As in… not just her. “I… your father was just showing me around town.”
“Don’t swim in the lake,” he warned, his eyes flashing up to meet her gaze, suddenly and shockingly serious. “Dad loves it there, but he always forgets King Crocodile. Distract him with whatever means necessary, but do not swim in the lake.”
“What?”
But whatever had suddenly come over Max was gone, as he tilted his head back and drained his coffee as only the very tired or very hungover could manage. He immediately stood up and began pouring himself more.
“Maxie!” was the sudden shout that told them Goofy had come downstairs, but Max only lifted his arms so Goofy wouldn’t jostle the coffee as he squashed his son in a bear hug from behind. “What’re you doin’ here, son? I wasn’t expectin’ you home for a week!”
“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely, eyes rolling off to the side. “Just thought I’d come back a bit early.”
Goofy pulled back and fixed his son with a beady eye, which only made Max focus on the coffee some more, until Goofy violently ruffled his hair. “Well, you know I’m here to talk whenever you need it, Maxie. But hey! Look at this! My two favourite people in the whole world, sitting right here in my kitchen, ready for me to make them a true-blue homecooked Goof Breakfast!” he cried, and slung his arm around Max’s throat, the other fist on his hip. “It’s the most wonderful thing I coulda asked for. And it’s not even my birthday!”
“Uh huh. I’m gonna go dump my stuff in my room. I’ll be back in a minute,” Max promised, ducking out of his father’s death-grip. He smiled at Sylvia as he passed, but was soon gone, and Goofy looked after him for a minute before turning to the pantry.
“Um… Goofy?” Sylvia prompted. “Do you think I embarrassed him, being here? Should I go?”
“Go? Go where? We’ve still got the whole week ahead of us!” he said cheerfully. “Don’t you worry about nothin’, Sylvia. Maxie’s not gonna be worried about somethin’ like this. Besides, he’s got somethin’ bigger on his mind than you an’ me. And this’ll be a great chance for you two to get to know each other! Bond, like.”
She winced, but didn’t say anything as he began whipping up a huge breakfast that would surely go straight to her thighs. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get to know Max, but everything she’d seen of him so far made him seem self-absorbed, petty and sullen. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but…
“I’m um… I’m just going to go put some pants on,” she said, and rushed out of the room.
Once he apparently woke up, Max was surprisingly chatty, and smiled a lot more than she’d ever realised before. And, even more shockingly, she discovered he had more on his mind than extreme sports.
“Mm,” he said, when Goofy asked him how his grades were doing, both their mouths full of pancakes. “I’m sitting on an A-minus for math, but my science scores suck. I’m probably gonna have to put some work in there.”
“Oh, you aren’t in trouble are you?” Sylvia asked, and Max shook his head, glancing at her.
“Suck as in, like, a B. I’m not worried, but, y’know, I don’t wanna risk having one lousy exam and messing it all up,” he said, waving his fork, and Goofy beamed.
“Maxie’s the smartest kid I ever met! Never had any trouble with school!” he said proudly. “He got early acceptance to heaps of colleges!”
She frowned, confused. “Then why would you go to State?” It wasn’t that it was a bad school, but it wasn’t the type of place you applied to on first preference.
“The X-games,” he said simply, reaching for another stack of toast. “The Gammas were the team to beat, so the games are usually there. Made sense to be working on home soil.”
“Aww, don’t be foolin’, now, Maxie,” Goofy said, pointing at him with his knife before turning to look at Sylvia. “His buddies didn’t score so high on their high school exams.”
“Dad, they did fine,” he said irritably.
“You passed up better colleges to be with your friends?” Sylvia asked incredulously, and blinked as Max began to blush and avoid her gaze.
“No, I really didn’t. It was just for the X-games. Really. Besides, they’re my team, I couldn’t exactly compete if we weren’t together.” He swallowed another mouthful and talked around it as he changed the subject. “Anyway, my English is okay, but I don’t think I wanna major in it. I’m tossing up between science and health.”
“How’s PJ doin’?” Goofy asked, and he nodded again.
“Yeah, he’s awesome. Still with Snaps—you remember her, Beret Girl—but he’s finally stopped talking like a bad Shakespeare play. Thank Go-o-osh,” he corrected himself with a weak grin, but Goofy didn’t seem to notice and so Max continued. “He came back with me, though he’ll be going back in a couple days. I think I’m here for at least a week. Sorry,” he added to Sylvia, while she and Goofy looked at him.
“You think?” she asked.
“Oh, um, nothing,” he said, pulling another grin into place. “Just, you know, stuff. At school. Goin’ down. Yeah. Okay! Great breakfast, thanks Dad, nice talkin’ to you, Sylvia, I’m gonna go do… stuff. You crazy kids have fun.”
And then, in a dash Sylvia was beginning to think only Goof men could manage, he was gone. She blinked and looked back at Goofy, who was frowning after his son like he couldn’t quite understand a puzzle. Not that she was one to talk – the whole conversation had been a side of Max she’d never realised existed. But you’d think Goofy would be used to it.
It only got stranger when she went upstairs and passed his room on the way to the bathroom, and heard him on the phone.
“What d’you want me to do? I’m not gonna tag along on their dates around town… no, I’m not… No. I’m not. I’m not! I’m – you guys have a serious problem, you know that? Spying on dates, let alone actively asking to go along on them, is creepy! Yes, it is… Yes. It is. It is! Argh! Why am I having this conversation with you?!”
Then, later, he came back downstairs, looking like a dead man, and asked, in a monotone, if they minded him tagging along when they went out today. Goofy ignored the tone and joyously accepted, but Sylvia really began to wonder what was going on.
It was amazing how, in the space of a single day, an extremely lazy Spring day and its equally lazy evening turned into a whirlwind of adventure, with Goofy dragging her around town to see all the most mundane places, like where he’d worked and where he went shopping. Max trailed along behind with a mild smile and his hands in his pockets, occasionally explaining why something made Goofy swell up with pride and tears.
It culminated in an impromptu barbeque, which Max’s friend PJ came over for. The two boys retreated to the skateboard ramp, and Sylvia poured some wine while Goofy prepared the food.
A quiet, relaxing atmosphere had very nearly descended… until the gate creaked open. Sylvia turned in her chair to see a teenage girl poke her head around, two long pigtails falling over her shoulders as she blinked at the yard and its occupants. Slowly, she stepped inside, and then took a deep breath.
“Mo-om! They’re all here and Daddy’s not so you can come out of the car now!” she screamed, a loud crash telling everyone without looking that she had startled Max off his skateboard mid-jump.
“Pistol!” PJ cried, and Goofy gasped, smiling almost as broadly as he had in the morning.
“Well lookie-here! Even more surprises, this is wonderful!”
“Hey Mister Goof!” the girl called, just as she was joined in the gateway by a beautiful woman around Goofy’s age, who honestly squealed at the sight of him.
“Goofy! Oh, Goofy, it’s so good to see you again!” she cried, and clasped her hands over her rather expansive chest as she saw the boys. “PJ! Come give your mother a hug! Hello, Max!”
“Hey, Mrs P!” Max shouted, while PJ sauntered over to do as instructed. His apparent mother covered his face with kisses before walking him and the girl over to the patio.
“Hiya Peg! What’re you doin’ in town?” asked Goofy, and the woman smiled, forcefully shoving the teenager in a chair which she immediately slid out of to meet Max as he walked over.
“Oh, well, you know!” she said, and squeezed PJ’s shoulders. “I heard my boy had come home and I just had to come say congratulations on everything that’s happened this past year!”
“Aw, Mom, you say it all the time on the phone!” PJ whined, but she just giggled and hugged him tighter.
“Yeah, Peej, but it just ain’t the same if she doesn’t say it in person,” Max pointed out as he stepped up, and Peg released her son long enough to give Max a quick hug too. He blushed, but hugged her back. “How have you been, Mrs P?”
“Oh, just fabulously!” she said, but when they pulled back, Sylvia noticed Peg’s eyes did a quick flick toward her, and Max blinked, then winced and began babbling.
“Oh, hey, uh, Miss Marpole, this is Peg Keen. She’s PJ’s mom. Mrs P, this is Sylvia Marpole. You know, Dad’s girlfriend?”
She looked blank for a split second before giving a loud, dramatic gasp. “Oh, of course! Oh, dear, I’ve heard so much about you!” she said, grabbing Sylvia’s hand to shake it. “Goofy said you were beautiful, but I’d never guessed he wasn’t just being his usual flattering self!”
“Oh, why, thank you,” she said awkwardly, glancing at Max, but he just gave her a wink and slipped away to stand with PJ again. The teenager sidled up beside him and gave him a flirtatious smile.
“Hi Max. You look good. How have you been? We haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Oh, hey Pistol,” he said, and then blanched and glared at PJ’s snickering. “Shut up.”
“Hey, you know, Peg, we was just about to have dinner!” Goofy cried, flinging a hamburger patty up into the air. It went shooting over their heads, but Max snatched up a plate and caught it before flipping it back to his father, who caught it in time to smack it back onto the barbeque. “You two gals should join us!”
“Oh, why, we’d just love to, Goofy!”
And so it was, an hour and one very nearly burned down house later (Max was ridiculously good with a fire extinguisher, even managing to carry on a conversation with Pistol about her last softball game while saving the day), Sylvia found herself sitting alone with Peg, drinking wine and watching Max untangle his father from the washing line.
“So Goofy never told you about me?” Sylvia also found herself asking, and Peg laughed, flicking the thought off as if she’d expected it.
“Oh, goodness, yes, don’t get me wrong about that,” she said firmly. “Goofy always tells me about the women in his life. The problem is sorting out the really special ladies from the postal carriers who are willing to stop and have a conversation with him. We’re all beautiful, wonderful women to him, you know. And it’s not like I’ve had reason to speak to Max, this past year.”
“Max?” she asked, and made a point of sipping her wine to make it seem like milder curiosity than it was.
“Well, let’s just say he’s a little more objective than his father,” she said. “When Goofy says ‘ah met this amazin’ woman at the sup-ah-market with tha’ purdiest eyes’,” Her affected drawl nearly made Sylvia snort into her glass. “Max will say ‘Dad spent an hour talking to this fifteen-year-old checkout girl about collectable stamps’. I tend to rely a little more on the latter. From what Goofy told me, without any input from the boys, I thought you might be a rather pretty tutor that had gone dancing with him a few times.”
“Oh,” She lowered her eyes to her wine, suddenly and irrationally upset, until Peg shoved her arm in a way that was probably supposed to be gentle.
“Oh, don’t you worry none. Believe me, if Max called you Goofy’s girlfriend, you definitely mean a lot to the old silly!” she said, and Sylvia blinked before looking up again. Peg’s smile was kind. “You’ve passed more than a few tests if you get the Max seal of approval!”
“I… what?”
She just smiled mysteriously, and gestured toward the Goof family, who had both somehow managed to get tangled in the line. Max was clearly chewing his father out, but Goofy was laughing along with PJ and Pistol.
“That boy has been looking after his father from the day I met him, when PJ had only just turned eleven. You think you’ve seen some strange things being around Goofy – I can guarantee you Max has seen it, dealt with it, and learned to cut it off at the pass,” she said, and took a long sip of wine. “Probably the easiest to deal with were women who only wanted to get to know him because of Mickey and Donald.”
“Mickey and…?”
“Yes, that Mickey and Donald,” she said meaningfully, and gave her a direct look. “You didn’t realise he was the Goofy G. Goof?”
“I… oh, my…!”
“Mmhm!” She then scowled and gestured to the next house over. “My dear ex-husband is one of their lot, too. Not the particularly positive side of the crew, but he had his moments of stardom, did Mr Peter Pete.”
“Oh my!” she gasped again, spilling some wine onto the grass. Why hadn’t Goofy told her? What was he even doing out here, in the middle of nowhere, working for a college degree he didn’t even need to live the high Hollywood life?!
“Goofy sees the good in people, but almost never the bad,” Peg continued mildly. “It leads him into trouble a lot of the time. Max tries to cut most of it off at the pass, but, well…”
They were suddenly distracted by Max and Goofy struggling to pull themselves free, and actually managing to defeat the washing line… only for them both to end up head-down in opposite flowerbeds. Goofy got himself out pretty quickly with another laugh, but Max had to be pulled free and swore when he did, only for fate to punish him for that by making him step on a rake and have it slam up into his nose.
Peg smiled, gesturing to Max with her wine. “He is his father’s son.”
“I didn’t think so, but today has certainly made me realise that,” agreed Sylvia. The two women sipped their wine, and contemplated the men in front of them a little longer.