DAY 116:  Monday, February 1st, 2010: They wrote a song all about your size, and are still singing.

Severance Pay: continued from Day 115 . . .

Later that evening:

Two doctors walk down the Nutmeg Highway with a security guard, lab coats flared with quick feet in near-perfect unison as they approach a room door and open both slots

“Hey Max.”

The huge body builder is trussed tightly in a triple XL straight jacket, slouched against the far wall as a thread of drool hangs like spider line.  He has already been sedated, eyes glazed with the dazed and distant look of a stoked junkie.

The men enter and kneel before their huge guard as his head flops to one side, trying to focus.

“You gotta listen,” he says through labored breathing.  “Spense has to be punished . . .”

“We know,” one doctor answers softly, patting a huge, bound bicep.  “We’re all over it, Max.”

 “Yes . . . she has to be punished and stopped . . .”

“We know Max, we know . . .”

His head comes up, and there’s a brief moment of recognition as the doctor asks, “Max?  Did Janelle ask you for anything special when you came in here before?”

Max is trying to focus, asking, “Janelle?  Our sweet little Janelle?”

“Yes, Max.  Janelle.  Did she ever ask for things?”

Max puts his head back and starts sniffing like a dog, as the doctor’s hand rests on his massive arm. 

“Max?”

A smile appears, Max asking, “Smell that, gentlemen?  Can you smell these padded walls?”

The two doctors exchange nervous glances as Max drops his head a little, demonic eyes finding the security guard, who wonders why that look seems so familiar.

Max smiles.  “That smell is exactly like the beat-up boards of the old Boston Garden, where you could see chips and puck marks of greatness left behind like the signatures on our Declaration of Independence . . .”

“Shit,” one of the doctors mumble, but Max suddenly stops his brief history lesson, eyes locked on the security guard, who nervously steps back and starts looking around like he may have lost something.

“Hey Teddy!” Max says.  “Tell these guys all about the cool favors we did, for our poor little Janelle . . .”

Both doctors turn in time to see their security guard bolt from the room, Max now laughing and rolling his head like Stevie Wonder.

“Teddy’s a huge Bruins fan,” he explains. “When your brilliant team of experts let him give Janelle that big ol’ Bruins jersey as a present before the so-called meeting, he also delivered matching Sigs in a tight little sports bra double-sling holster rig.”

He starts laughing as drool returns for an encore, and after twelve minutes he’s sleeping like a baby, living out a slow and peaceful recovery from total mind domination, slated for testing later that week.

Spense is another story.

To be continued . . .