When Max grew up he became a Financial Consultant, a rather astute and clever one, and he made a lot of money and bought a bloody nice house.
Now, when he shut his bedroom door and the forest grew, and he sailed through a day and through a night, and in and out of weeks, to the place… to that place, he found it all a little bit infra dig. He was King of the Wild Things, and a King can rule, so Max said: “All of you! Be quiet! I have a headache.”
And the Wild Things tiptoed clumsily around him, and grunted quietly, and all the while Max thought Kingly thoughts until finally he said: “There is to be no more Wild Rumpus! You Wild Things must Grow Up and Get a Job!”
Because Max was the King of the Wild Things, and they loved him so, they all sat down on the deck of Max’s white yacht, and sailed in and out of weeks to Max’s bedroom.
When they got there, Max had his Savile Row Tailor come over and set up the Wild Things with nice suits. The Wild Things complained and said the suits were itchy, and the Savile Row Tailor complained and said the Wild Things were bitey, but eventually the job was done and the Wild Things looked a lot less rude. Haircuts and manicures followed, and by the end of the day, Max felt satisfied and gave all the Wild Things a job. Mostly they worked as salesthings for Max’s Financial Consultancy.
It should have been a good life, but the Wild Things weren’t happy. They missed the Wild Rumpus. They missed their juicy jungle home. One night they got drunk and totalled Max’s BMW, and left childish messages on his girlfriend’s answering machine.
Max punished the Wild Things with a strong telling off, but things only got worse. Now when potential customers turned them away from their doorsteps, the Wild Things wrenched their front doors off the hinges and smashed up their houses. They roared instead of whispered, let their hair and their claws grow, chased dogs and ate whole raw chickens in the supermarket aisles.
Max’s life was totally ruined.
Even the Wild Things said he was no longer fit to be King. And the next time Max sailed, through a day and a night, and in and out of weeks, to the place where the Wild Things were, they showed him their terrible claws and rolled their terrible eyes and gnashed their terrible teeth, and Max felt scared and could not look them in the eyes.