Shortly, two displacer beasts enter the shop, one with a monocle and tophat, the other in an awkwardly placed orange wig, with a string of pearls around her neck.
"Excuse me, my good man," the top hatted one says, frowning briefly at the cage Chi-Chi had recently exited. "My wife and I are in need of your service."
Max reaches for his butcher's apron.
"No, no, no. We're quite set for food, thank you. No need for your unsavory butchery. We're interested in a pet, a companion for our emotional state of being, you understand."
"We were thinking," the wife says, "of a cute little displacer bunny. One with antlers if possible."
"Yeah," Max said. "You just made that thing up. But if there's one, I'm sure my boy Lorenzo here can find it for ya. Can'cha, kid?"

"no no no," the displacer wife says, "I don't want a displacer jackalope, I want a displacer bunny with antlers." She sighs, "this is just like that man at the McJester's who would NOT listen to my order."
"Oh, yes. Kept trying to give you a cheeseburger, when you asked for a hamburger with cheese. The nerve of some people."

"Great," Max says. "You're the vermin specialist. Just make sure to feed 'em seventeen times a day. Or, five? Better make it twenty-eight, to be sure."
If Litharos hasn't been pre-warned that Max is terrible with numbers, he should be getting that idea by now.

"So lorenzo...how many times am i really suppose to feed them all?..."

"I meant of antler, but doubly noted, miss.  I will start right after giving the new hire some training."
Lorenzo nods as he looks to Litharos.
"Depends on what, mostly.  Been making notes, want them?"