The problem with tea was that it always gives me terrible gas, Max thought to himself. And the problem with terrible gas is that it always leads to horrible diarrhea the next day. And ever since the APEs put restrictions on daily excrement flushage- but then again since the world is about to end…

“Max!” screamed Fender, “Pay attention and stop day dreaming! Now get over here and stand on this pile of cinnamon rolls so I can get this old heap of junk into position for the infusion. If this plan is ever gonna work you need to get it through your thick skull that THIS TIME you don’t have to worry about your day-after-diarrhea, and you should instead be worrying about our harnessing the raw power of your ass combined with the explosive force of rolled cinnamon to create a weapon of unimaginable putridity!”

“Ummmmm… There’s one small problem Fender, the APEs have shut off all the power.”

“Listen, I’ll worry about the bypass uplink, YOU worry about farting as hard as you possibly can. And shutting up.”