In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

like in the military.
"Take off the vedding band, please," Züt ordered. Sandro
happily twisted it off and handed it over, and Züt looked around the
inside and stuck it in another little plastic zip bag, and into his pocket.
Sandro was handed one of those hospital gowns that left you so
vulnerable and was led by the doctor and the medic down more
corridors, up and down more elevators and down a hall that looked and
smelled like a real hospital, to a dark glass enclosed viewing post.
Beyond the glass was a bright antiseptic room with a white capsule in
the center that could have just beamed down from a Star Trek episode.
Züt took a breath and dealt his prognosis. "Your liver is a
spongy mess. Your heart, well you have to listen to your heart! And
your cholesterol level is sky high; vot you have been living on? Paté de
foi gras and truffles? It is a miracle you are alive, but even supermen haf
their limits. As soon as you are released, you are on your own! Votever
you do, do not touch Dr. Bell, government property! Off limits!
Verboten! Deal still stands! Besides, you are married, vezer you
consummate or not. I know vot is going on and it is pathetic. Grow up,
get real. Ziss is not your little girlfriend's favorite blurb, get real?"
He leaned over and stuck the knobs of the stethoscope into
Sandro's ears, sliding the cold disk over his heart. Garbled chaos
shwoosh-umped in there, no surprise.
Züt gave him a look heavy with meaning. More theater, the guy
should have been an actor.
Sandro countered with his trademark sneer.
"Okay, just doing my job, boy. Now we get to vork!"
Sandro was led into the bright room and fitted with a helmet
Doctor Frankenstein might have thought up and told to recline on the
padded cot extruding from the capsule. He had a pretty good idea what
was in store for him now as he was strapped down, mouth fitted with a
boxer's shield. Züt sputtered at him to lie still as long as he was inside.
Soon he was alone inside this dim coffin staring up at a sticker of a
flying red eyed cartoon toddler. The clanging began, soon to be
accompanied by the familiar surge of Penny's earlier piece, the one that
had caused all the trouble, and he shut his eyes and wept
uncontrollably.
He woke up in his cell with a terrible headache, his tongue
swollen and sore and he saw that he was dressed in the orange overalls.
They hadn't shaved his head, or his face, so he was well on his way to
looking like every other traitor in America, except that they weren't
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