Here's the script I wrote for the Sam and Max cameo in AGENCY web-fan-comic by JediAnnSolo:
SAM AND MAX in AGENCY
Sam and Max are seen in a mortuary. Sam is licking on an ice cream bar on a popsicle stick. It’s vanilla with a hard chocolate coating exterior. There’s a single bite taken out of it, revealing the white inner layer of vanilla. Max (the small nude rabbit with a huge head and shark teeth) is poking at a dead body with a stick. The dead body is a very large naked anthropomorphic land shark covered partly by a sheet (or whatever you want. I wrote this setting description just for me to picture the scene, really).
Sam: “Stop that, Max! Last time it took us forever to get the stick back out.”
Max: “Aw, Sam, you’re no fun! I’m just checking to make sure our plus-sized cartilage-filled friend is really dead!”
Sam: “Okay, just a little, but you have to stop if it breaks the skin. Or evil-smelling stuff starts oozing out. Whichever happens first.”
He pokes the body again and *squish!* Max’s eyes get big and his mouth is shaped like an “o.”
Max (returns to his happy shark smile): “Tee Hee!”
He says this while throwing the stick behind him. It possibly hits someone.
Sam: “Stop fooling around, Max. The Commissioner sent us down to examine and identify the stiff.”
Max: “Well, he’s dead. And ugly.”
The two look down at the body silently. Sam’s ice cream bar’s vanilla center is melting down the side of his hand.
Max: “…And buck-naked, woo hoo!” Max throws his arms into the air. THIS LINE CAN BE CUT FOR SPACE RESTRAINTS.
Sam: “Yep.” Sam takes a lick at his ice cream bar.
Then he realizes something.
Sam: “Great Mother of God doing backstrokes in butterscotch pudding during a hail storm!”
(or “Holy Ben ‘n’ Jerry’s held up by an over-sized marshmallow man during the Jewish Passover!”)
Sam: “He’s a shark, Max! And that’s what makes me a little suspicious. As all anthropologists know, Carcharodon carcharias doesn’t usually comingle about on dry earth with the locals. Plus, listen to this; this brackish gargantuan of ours has two land legs!”
Max: “And your point is…?”
Sam: “Sharks don’t normally have legs, melon head! Sure, Big Foot exists just as surely as love and generosity and devotion, but land sharks are up there with magical horned ponies and decent politicians. Maybe the reason why there are no records to identify the corpse is because he shouldn’t even exist!”
While Sam is speaking Max waves hi to the mortuary employees. All of which being are walking Land Sharks.
Max: “It’s almost as if some shady ne’er-do-well crime organization didn’t want us to identify our perp, Sam!”
Sam: “You crack me up, little buddy! This is obviously our feeble minds playing parlor tricks on our naive yet sharpened psyche, causing us to see imponderables! You know the Mayor would never let those kinds of unsavory, greasy horrors into this city ever again. He barely tolerates us!”
Max (pulls a large Luger pistol out from nowhere): “Yeah, I know… It makes my mouth froth with envy of all of those other criminal cesspools too greedy to share their horrors! Let’s go pummel the Bureaucracy insensible, Sam!”
Sam: “Normally I frown on that sort of activity, Max! But business has been slower than the metabolic rate of a yard stick lately.”
Sam: “Well, I guess that’s all we can do. Come on, Max, do you remember where we parked the Desoto?”
Max: “I don’t know, Sam, I couldn’t see over the steering wheel!”
Sam: “That’s okay, we’ll follow the smell.”
(Or “That’s okay. I think I can smell it.”)
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