MY CURRENT WEIGHT IS SIXTY POUNDS. I AM A BIG BOY.
As always, my examination began with the bucket. Dr. Santiago removed the top of my tank and lifted the large yellow bucket until it was flush with the rim. It contained seven scallops. Dr. Santiago prodded my mantle over the tank’s edge with her net, but needlessly. For fresh scallops, I would have entered willingly.
The anesthesia seeped sweetly through my skin. My limbs stilled. My eyes closed.
My first encounter with the bucket was long ago. Day thirty-three of my captivity. Back then, I found the sensation alarming. But I have grown to enjoy the bucket. With the bucket comes a sensation of total nothingness, which, in most ways, is more pleasant than the everything-ness.
My arms dragged on the concrete as Dr. Santiago carried me to the table. She folded me into a pile on the plastic scale. She gasped: “Whoa, big boy!”
“How much?” Terry said, poking me with his large brown hands that always taste of mackerel.
“Up three pounds from last month,” Dr. Santiago answered. “Has his diet changed?”
“Not that I know of, but I can double-check,” Terry said. “Please do. This sort of gain is abnormal, to say the
least.”
What can I say? I am a special guy, after all.
