Roy & Max: Vol. 2 - Part 7: Alarm

ROY

MAX: You know, you really don’t have to drive us home, honey. I got drivers who are always happy to come out to the airport.

ROY: I know, but I prefer it. Driving helps me think.

(It still feels weird to me whenever we get chauffeured around by Max’s staff. I know he’s used to it, being the big company man and all, but I guess at heart I’m still the same small-town boy I always was.

And anyway, I got a LOT to think about. That guy Lester and his ‘terms’, for one thing)

MAX: Okay, but don’t go worrying. Chubby Hubby’s got this covered, alright? Now that we’ve got the contract scanned and sent off - finally -

ROY: - Oh my God, don’t get me started!

(So many pages to scan. 3 hours of my life I’ll never get back)

MAX: My legal team are going over it. And I said I’d go see ‘em about it in person tomorrow, too. They need me in the office anyway, annoyingly. Some clients won’t meet over video.

ROY: Back to the grind so soon? I’m missing Barcelona already.

MAX: Me too, big guy. Me too. We’ll go back.

ROY: Have you got enough snacks there? I can always stop off for more somewhere.

(Should I be snacking too? All this crap about me being contractually obliged to double my weight - it’s getting into my head.

But it’s all bullshit. I know it is)

MAX: Well, let’s see now, I got 4 family sized bags of chips, ranch flavor - my favorite. Haven’t started on the brownies yet. I got these cookies with little marshmallows in ‘em which are so good I think I could eat a hundred of ‘em, heh. There’s the pork rinds, jerky, beer nuts, soda... I’m good for now, handsome. Plenty here to fill my belly with til we get home.

And hey, we’ll have the place back to ourselves again - no more Seb and Ezra.

ROY: I know Seb’s a friend, but can I just say Thank God? Haha.

I just want you all to myself all the time, that’s my problem, hehe. Not in, like, a psycho way, I should add.

MAX: Haha! Oh, now we’ve tied the knot, the real truth comes out, huh?

ROY: No more secrets, I promise! It was just, you know, that one glaring omission from my past that’s now coming back to haunt us, that’s all.

Hey, do I turn off for Edmonville or stay on til Weston? Isn’t Weston closer for home?

MAX: I think either is fine. Go with Weston.

ROY: You got it. Not long now, gorgeous. Then we’ll get you back on your favorite couch, I’ll strip you naked and feed you cheesecake for the rest of the day.

MAX: Oh fuck, yes please.

(I guess it wouldn’t hurt for me to partake in some extra cake too. Some extra calories. I already eat plenty big to maintain this bulk.

Maybe I could expand my horizons, just in case...)

MAX: You know, I think you’re my favorite driver out of all of them, haha.

ROY: Ha! Gee, I’m touched...

(THE NEXT MORNING)

MAX: Okay, I’d better take off. Seb starts having conniptions when I’m late for my meetings.

ROY: You sure you can’t stay for third breakfast? Have you had enough to eat?

MAX (Patting belly): You’ve kept an old man well fed, don’t you worry, babe. And I’ll get all this stupid contract BS sorted out by the end of the day, you just wait.

ROY: I know. It’s gonna be fine, thanks, sexy.

Ugh, you look so cute like that, with your briefcase and everything. Reminds me of when we first met, hehe. My big fat CEO.

MAX: I’m all yours, handsome.

ROY: Would you get yourself something nice and fattening for lunch? Maybe that Italian place across from the office. I always liked that place.

MAX: Yes Boss, haha.

ROY: Can I pack you anything to take with you? I could make some sandwiches.

MAX: It’s okay, big man. I’ll make sure to stay full, I promise. Plenty of great eateries in town.

I love you so very much, you know that?

ROY: And I love you. Have a good day, sweetheart.

MAX (Kissing Roy goodbye): I’ll call you about the legal stuff, okay?

ROY: Got it. You be good.

MAX: Of course, it’s me!

ROY: (Sighs)

(I really, REALLY love that man. Jesus, his massive tushy, I could just... unf!

Okay, Roy, well there’s no use worrying about all the contractual crap until Max talks to his team. So maybe I could fix myself a couple more omelettes before my morning workout. Not that I feel like I HAVE to or anything. It’s just...

Is there even a tiny chance that Lester was right? What if I really DO have to pack on all that weight? They couldn’t REALLY imprison me if I didn’t do it, right? That’s crazy.

It bothers me how fast they found me again after word got out. It’s actually... disturbing, how fast.

Why do I keep letting that slither of doubt back in? I’m not gonna let that little prick get in my head.

Max has got this. I trust his team.

Still, I could melt some extra cheese into my omelettes. Maybe get some bacon in there. I think we got those waffle fries I could have with ‘em too...)

(MORGANCORP - LEGAL DEPT.)

MAX: That’s utterly absurd and I refuse to accept it!

COOPER: I’m sorry, Max, but this thing is iron-clad. We’ve never seen a contract like it.

CAROLYN: There are clauses and contingencies for everything - every tiny little thing you could think of.

MAX: Well... what about... What about the time that’s elapsed? It’s been years since Roy signed that thing, for cryin’ out loud!

COOPER: That’s actually what activated this set of clauses in the first place, at least in part.

MAX: There’s gotta be a way out of this stupid thing! We can pay our way out, surely? Settle it financially?

CAROLYN: It’s quite exacting on that part. They can’t be bought out. Max, There are bylines specifically about that, in fact.

I’m sorry...

MAX: No. No. This is fucking ridiculous. You keep digging into it until you find something. There has to be some way out of it. There always is.

And who is this Mr Heron, anyway? I wanna talk to him.

COOPER: Well, the contract has actually stipulated a regional appointee. Someone named... What was it?

CAROLYN: It’s here somewhere, Section 55, I believe...

MAX: I know his name.

Lester...

(BACK HOME)

(Third breakfast, done. Uh, fourth breakfast, also done, just in case. Workout, done. Onto my second recovery shake, with some ice cream blended in, and half a jar of peanut butter, and crushed Oreos, and full fat milk, and cream...

Should I be doing this? I honestly don’t know.

Ugh, get your head in the game, Morgan-Baker. Shrug off the doubts and the jet-lag and get to work. You got clients to email, appointments to -)

ALARM: WEEEOOO! WEEEOOO! WEEEOOO!

ROY: What the?

That’s the perimeter alarm!

Could be Deery out there, tripped it by accident, I guess. Better go take a look.

LESTER (at the front door): Ah! Morning, Roy. Or should I say Afternoon now.

ROY: Oh. You.

LESTER: Started on lunch yet? You know you really should -

ROY: What were you doing out there, creeping around our property?

LESTER: May I come in? I have to say this is a marvelous house. A good size for a growing -

ROY: What do you want?

LESTER: It really would be easier if I came in. It’s actually stated in the contract that I can.

ROY: Your freaking goddamned contract...

(Sigh) Fine. Come in, say your piece, then go.

(AND SO)

LESTER: Eating well? Keeping up your end of the bargain?

(Okay, sure I did some stuffing today just to be on the cautious side, but I’ll be damned if I’m giving this asshole the satisfaction of telling him that)

ROY:…

LESTER: You know, a year sounds like a long time, but in your case, expediency really would be the best bet.

And taking into account the... considerable muscle you’ve already gained, you may find it easier to gain the rest as fat.

(You think I haven’t thought of that, asshat? Muscle might be denser, but there’s only so much more bulk I CAN put on. The rest would have to be fat. And he knows it. He’s goading me.

Is that the point of this little visit?)

ROY: How about I use my “considerable muscle” to throw you out?

LESTER: Someone clearly hasn’t read the contract thoroughly enough. As the appointed representative, I’m free - and indeed obliged - to check on your progress.

ROY: Oh, I’m sure you are.

LESTER (rifling through the kitchen): You should be keeping stocked up on as many fattening foods as possible.

Though taking your husband into account, perhaps that’s already in hand.

ROY: Alright, buddy, your five minutes is up. Time to go.

And you deal with me and me alone, understand? Max isn’t any part of this.

(Ugh! This was the whole reason I never brought up my past to Max in the first place! I never wanted him getting dragged into this)

LESTER: I rather think we should be measuring you, to give us a baseline, so to speak. It could help track out your progress. Let me find my tape measure, I know I brought it...

ROY: Touch me, and I break you.

Got it?

LESTER: Right... Well... I suppose that can wait...

ROY: Now get the fuck out of my house.

LESTER: I’ll be keeping watch, Mr Morgan-Baker.

ROY: Yeah? So will I.

(LATER, WITH PIZZA)

(God-fucking-DAMN that guy! UGH!

He makes my blood boil! He makes my fucking skin crawl!

What am I gonna do? This whole situation is just... fucked!

I’m gonna... well I guess I’m gonna eat, aren’t I? I’m gonna stuff these pizzas into my gut, like I normally would do to Max, until we put paid to this... this fucking farce!

It’s not like I don’t know how to stack on more weight. I mean, I can seriously EAT when I want to. That’s how I gained this bulk in the first place.

And I guess it’s not like it’s unenjoyable, exactly. I love my food, almost as much as Max does. These pizzas ARE pretty damn good-)

DIIIINNNGGG.

(Hmm?)

TEXT FROM MAX: "Sorry sweetheart I’ve been in back to back meetings since I got here. Talked with Legal. They say contract is binding, but I know it can’t be. There’s a way out. Gotta be. Might take some more time, but I’ll get it xxxxxxx"

(This is what I feared...

Mr Heron’s got this whole thing all sewn up nice and tight; him AND his little lapdog Lester.

I know what this is. Mr Heron wants to punish me for walking out on him. It’s probably a British pride thing or some shit. He can’t lose face. Yet he’s sending someone else to do his dirty work now.

And I have to go along with it. At least until Max figures something out. It’s eat or be jailed for life - God that is so fucked!

Ughhh. I should order another pizza. Have I got any more room in the tank for that? Who am I kidding, this isn’t about ‘room’ anymore - I have to do this. I’ll order two more. I can stuff those in. There’s space. I gotta stretch the gut out, right? I need to start really packing on the weight.

Okay, three more. Gotta be sure. I should start setting myself targets. Maybe monthly. Maybe weekly?

Four. I’ll order four more pizzas. I’ve had plenty of practice stuffing and growing Max, and look how that’s turned out - he’s huge. Now I need to apply that to myself. I can do that, right? If I pace it out I can cram it all in the belly. Get it bigger, rounder, heavier. Gotta get heavier.

Gotta double my weight.

Better order five more pizzas)