Get Smart 8 - Max Smart Loses Control by William Johnston

doesn’t sound quite right to me.
    Harold (to Operator): I thought you told me he was dumb.
    Operator: Give it time. After he thinks it over, he’ll subscribe. He’s so dumb, it even takes him time to do something stupid.
    Harold: I’ll call you again tomorrow morning at two-seven, Maxie-boy.
    Max: It won’t do you any good. I won’t answer. You’ll only get my answering service.

    Max put his house slipper back on, then got back under the covers. But a moment later, the slipper rang again.

    Max: Yes—who is it?
    Harold: This is your answering service, Maxie-boy. You’ve got a call from some whacko who calls himself a chief. Do you want to take it?
    Max: At two o’clock in the morning?
    Chief: Max! This is me, Max—the Chief. And it isn’t two o’clock in the morning—it’s two twenty-one. And, besides, what does that have to do with it? You’re on duty twenty-four hours a day, Max. When I call, I want you to be there! Is that clear?
    Harold: Shall I put him on, Maxie-boo?
    Max: Yes, I’ll accept that call, Harold.
    Harold: I’ll connect you, sir. You may speak to Mr. Smart, now.
    Operator: Harold . . . you’re crowding in on my territory. This is a private line. I handle all the calls on this circuit. This is a Control line, you know. Control is a secret government organization. For all we know, you might be a KAOS spy. I’ll tell you the truth, Harold, I warned my sister not to marry you. ‘A KAOS spy, if I ever saw one,’ I said to her. What’s this thing about telephones you’ve got? Can’t you get an honest job? It looks very suspicious—a grown man playing with telephones. It’s probably not play to you, I’ll bet. You’ve probably got the whole world bugged. Not that I mind. But you know what it’ll do to Mother when she finds out. Her daughter married to a bugger! She’ll start having her fainting fits again. Harold! Please! Give it up! Go straight! For Mother’s sake!
    Harold: Maxie-boo, I can’t be your answering service anymore. I’m going out of business.
    Max: I’m very glad to hear that, Harold. I’m sure Mother will be pleased, too.
    Harold: Who cares about her? I’m doing it for the profit I’ll make on declaring bankruptcy.
    Operator: Don’t forget my cut! It was my idea!
    Chief: Operator . . . Harold . . . please . . . would you get off the line? Max . . . are you still there?
    Max: Am I still where, Chief?
    Harold: He’s sure dumb, all right. It’s a pity to lose a customer like that. I could overcharge him and he’d never know it.
    Operator: Maybe you’d like to reconsider, Harold. Whatever you decide, Mother will be pleased. She looks on you like her own son.
    Harold: I thought your mother had only girls.
    Operator: That’s what I mean.
    Max: Operator, I don’t think I under—
    Chief: Max! Forget it! I want to talk to you. Why do you think I called you at two twenty-two in the morning? I couldn’t sleep. I’m worried about this case. What progress have you made?
    Max: I’ll have to ask Hymie, Chief. He’s in charge—remember?
    Chief: Then put him on.
    Max: He’s in another room, Chief. But I’ll go get him. In the meantime, you can talk to Harold and the Operator. Try to find out, will you, why. the Operator’s mother thinks of Harold as her own son when she only has daughters.

    Max slipped his slipper back on his foot, then went to Hymie’s room. Hymie was asleep. But Max woke him and told him the Chief was on the line and wanted to talk to him.
    “What time is it?” Hymie asked groggily.
    Max looked at his watch. “Two o’clock in the morning,” he replied. Then he sat down on the edge of Hymie’s bed, took off his slipper, and handed it to Hymie.

    Hymie: Chief? Why are you calling at two o’clock in the morning?
    Harold: You’ve been swimming with your watch on, too, I’ll bet.
    Hymie: Who’s this?
    Operator: Hymie, that’s Harold. He’s my brother-in-law—although Mother thinks of him as her own son, practically. He’s in the