The dream I had the night before the procedure was the absolute worst dream a guy could have before getting every remaining tooth pulled or cut out of his head. My poor old deceased pop was the dentist, only he still had a lisp. Stupid brain! Anyway, he invited me to sit in the chair and as I did, he assured me that this would hurt me way more than it would hurt him. I got nervous and tried to leave, but arm and leg restraints flung themselves across my outer extremities and held me in place. A fifth one flung itself out and around my neck snuggly and a sixth one across my forehead. The one across my forehead tightened itself down considerably so I could not even move my head side-to-side. My dentist dad had turned his back to me to begin getting his instruments together. When he turned back, he held a huge steel chisel and a ball peen hammer of equal or greater size. I gripped the chair and began to struggle violently. He approached slowly, taunting me, saying “Does the sucker want a sucker? Does the little sucker want a sucker? Time to pay the dentist, boy!” He placed the sharpened end of the chisel at my already depleted front teeth and held the hammer back and over his head. He paused, really letting the fear soak into me, then brought the hammer down hard. The sharp end busted cleanly through my rotten teeth and I began to choke on the blood and the debris. He put the chisel and hammer down on the table and god, why won’t this dream end? The pain was hot lava in my brain and face. He leaned in and whispered, “The deed is done, boy, don’t make it any worse than it already is. Take your losses and live your life. Don’t make things worse!” He grabbed a drill and held it up, triggering the shrilling device, and I sat up shrieking in bed. The room slowly came into focus around me and I slept no more that night.
That week actually went by quicker than I had anticipated—with the exception of the night before—and my nerves were a bundle of jittery electricity that morning as I got dressed and ready to head to the dentist office. The pain that week hadn’t been off the charts like before, but rather a more manageable dull ache. It almost made me change my mind and further postpone the whole bloody thing. I had called a cab, knowing full-well I couldn’t drive myself home from a procedure of this intensity. It was outside waiting. I grabbed a jacket and headed out the door.
Walking through the sliding glass door, my eyes happened upon a businessman in a gray suit with a yellow polka-dotted tie standing just outside that extra office door near the bathroom. He had a matching gray Fedora and polished black shoes that shined in the fluorescent lighting. He was looking over a clipboard with some forms on it and when I stopped at the counter, he briefly glanced up at me, said, “Good morning,” nodded and went back into his office closing the door behind him. The lady at the counter took my name and asked me to have a seat. I did so, checking out The Today Show. Al Roker was playfully bantering with one of the ladies on the show about the possible chance of some bad weather moving in tonight. I tuned them out. I was not in the mood for playful. I was pretty nervous and freaked out. All too soon, they were calling my name to come on back. I walked to the back with a pretty little Asian girl and when I sat down, she left the room. The businessman in the gray suit with the yellow polka-dotted tie stuck his head around the corner and said, “Is this a bad time?” He came all the way in and stuck out his hand. “Roy Reynolds,” he offered his hand. “Jack Goodman,” I said giving mine. We shook and he did a card-trick flash of a business card and placed it in my fingers. I’m in the front office there, I know you’ve seen me there. Stop by when the smoke settles and the deed is done and we’ll see what we can do for ya, Jackie boy. I can’t wait for us to get started!” He said enthusiastically. We offer real alternative solutions for real conventional world dilemmas, but only to real outside-the-box kinda people, you catching what I’m tossin’ out to ya?” I slowly nodded, then confused, I slowly shook my head. “That’s good, Jackie boy, that’s real good,” he continued. “Honesty is a real plus in the customers I accept. I only take the honest ones. You get all better from this little debacle and if you’re still not happy, you come see old Roy.” He smiled a shark’s grin with a gold tooth in top front. “Old Roy will get you fixed up and better than new. So, don’t you go being a stranger now, ya hear?” Again, I slowly nodded as if in a trance. “I w-won’t, Roy. Th-thanks,” I stuttered. I gazed down at the business card and saw: Roy Reynolds, Alternative Dental Solutions for Conventional Dental Mishaps, I can make a difference in your life! This was followed by a phone number with an area code he did not recognize and this address. “OK, Roy, I’ll come see…” but when I looked up, he was gone and the dentist was coming in. Not knowing if this was stepping on the dentist’s toes or not and not wanting the dental equivalent of spitting in my burger, I quickly palmed the card and when the dentist turned his back on me, I pocketed the card. Always good to have a Get Out of Jail Free card. The dentist turned back and the assistant came in just then to get me anesthetized. My childhood memories came back to taunt me again and I heard a ghost TV voice from long ago say: “It’s time to make the doughnuts.”
Drilling. Bracing. Pulling. Bending. Cracking. Breaking. Cutting. Stinging. Extracting. Rinsing. Repeating. Repeating for twelve times in all. Then it was done, other than minor plucking out of debris specks. My mouth was numb, my neck was sore, my nerves were shot, there was blood on my shirt that missed the bib. The sucking sound and cold-water splashing sensation in my mouth. All this coming in stop motion flashes. Years in that chair that day. Years taken from me in that one single procedure that seemed to go on until I must now be 90 and justified in having all false teeth. I had had no remaining teeth good enough to mold the dentures to so they fitted me with temporaries that looked awful. Very noticeable. Not in the brochure. They told me when the swelling goes down in few days, I could come back in and begin the procedure to get fitted for my permanents. I gave him a half-hearted sickly thumbs up. It was done. It was all done. It was all over. Now, all that remained was the healing…and the entire rest of my toothless life. Yes, just that and nothing more. As I shambled toward the front doors holding my little bag of goodies they sent home with me, I looked over at the extra office door. Roy had it propped open and looked up from his desk at me and gave a weak smile of sympathy. I shot him a pathetic little salute then walked out the door. They called me a taxi and it sat idling in the parking lot. I got in and gave them a piece of paper with my address on it so I didn’t have to try talking through the gauze. He put it in drive and took me home. The next few days were a treat. Pain pills and weird salty mouth rinses, the shock and awe of looking at my toothless grin in the bathroom mirror, the creak of my jaw as I tried in vain to bring my top and bottom gums together like I could with teeth. The day of the procedure, I got home afterward and slept for the better part of two days with only cursory bathroom breaks in between bouts of restless sleep. I taped paper up over the bathroom mirror to resist the temptation of looking at myself, which only fed the depression. I didn’t care if I ever saw another human being ever again. By the end of the first two days, I was not as sore and the swelling had gone down considerably. The last two days had gone by in a flash. A few nightmares spliced in between actual sleep wand trips to the bathroom. When the swelling was down, the temporaries didn’t fit well at all. They rubbed and irritated and cut. The dentist said I would have to build up callouses on my gums but they also weren’t lined up just right. I looked bad. So bad. I tried calling the dentist’s office. They told me I had to wait a bit longer for permanents. I powered through. The third day was Saturday. They called me to come in that day. It would have been overtime except I had missed the last three days so unfortunately it was only straight time. I did my best to not smile at anyone and talked very little and only if necessary. People did ask me what was wrong. I just shook my head and pointed at my mouth. They’d nod and move on. The healing came slow and arduously. After a week of pudding and yogurt and sherbet and soft easy foods, I began to get the hang of chewing with my new crooked teeth. The light at the end of the tunnel—or the carrot on the end of the stick, if you prefer�
��was the new permanents that I would be fitted for soon. Hang in there, Jackie boy!
The day finally came! What a joyous hope filled my heart as I walked through the shloosh of the sliding door. This could potentially change everything. I’d never be what you’d call handsome, but maybe I could smile again. The “dentitht”—ha, still make myself laugh at that. I’m terrible!—the uh, dentist got me in the chair and gave me a thorough once over to make sure all healed up right and there was no debris in my mouth. They put the gloop in my mouth and went to doing what they had to do. It was an all-around horrible procedure and I thought if ever a guy deserved it for not respecting and taking care of his teeth, it was me. They had me in that room for a good hour or more before the mold was finally done. They brought in my new permanents and I was highly…underwhelmed. They looked nearly like my old temporaries, when I put them in my mouth, the casual observer could plainly see them for what they were and once again, there was mild discomfort as my gum were forced to grow accustomed to a new pair. For the better part of the next two weeks, while I was not at work, nor in the general public’s eye, they sat out on my kitchen table or my dresser while I moped around the house looking like I was 80 with sagging, drooping jowls. I will not say that I was suicidal through this period in my life, but feeling deep in my heart that it was all over, I would have been fine with death coming for me on its own.
It was approximately 4 and a half weeks after the permanents were given to me that I was sitting home one day eating a sandwich and thinking about all the things I never did with my life. I got up clear my dishes. I needed to add a few things to my short little pathetic grocery list, so I pulled open the junk drawer to get a pen and that’s when I saw the card. Roy Reynolds, Alternative Dental Solutions…An intricate and complex set of gears and wheels began to turn in my head. The idea that this man could help in any way was ludicrous, but I couldn’t shake the idea that somewhere therein lie my destiny. I took out my phone and called the number on the card. He picked up mid-first ring, like he had a finger on the button.
“Good day, Mr. Goodman. So nice to hear from you.” He said gleefully.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Reynolds. Glad you could take my call.” I returned.
“Not a problem, it is why I’m here, good sir. Now then, I’ve got you down for a 2:30 p.m. appointment today, is that correct?” I looked up at the kitchen clock. It was straight up at 2 p.m. now. I was confused.
“Uh, 2 p.m.? Was this appointment made by the dentist? I didn’t…” He interjected.
“No, no, this appointment wasn’t made by any self-serving dentist. No, sir, I am just a specialist who has very few clients and very little need for more than just a small handful of clients. You are my number one priority at the moment. Can you come on down?” I made a mental pass across my list of things to do today. Wallowing in self-pity, not going out due to my disgust at myself image, slipping further into a midlife crisis.
“I’ll leave now,” I said a bit too abruptly.
“Good,” he said, “I’ll see you soon then. Bye bye now.” He broke the connection. I put my phone in my pocket, grabbed my car keys and left without even locking the door. My brain was on cloud nine with possibilities at the moment and I had to see where this particular avenue was going to lead me. I ran three stop lights getting across town.
The next part seemed to go by in a flash or a blink of the eye. I got into the waiting room and went over to his door, which was ajar. He invited me in. I sat down in a very nice leather back chair. He worked with a huge pharmaceutical company whose name he did not want to say just now. They had been working on the future of dentistry and the tests and trials had all come back with some very positive results. The time for human volunteer testing had come. These tests went over spectacularly and with the same very positive results. The latest and greatest pill they had been working on had been designed as a depressant toward hyper-tension and P.T.S.D. The curious result in taking the pill by some of the human patients who had under gone dental procedures resulting in the loss of teeth was simple—regrowth. As hard as it was to believe, some of the patients, a few anyway, grew a third set of teeth. These teeth came out just as normal as the adult set. He continued telling me that no abnormalities have been recorded as of yet and was I interested so far? I told him I was, but needed to know if there were any side effects. “Well, let’s see, the side effects are minimal. Occasional migraines, temporary vision distortion and nausea. That’s all that have been found thus far.” He said, reading off of a sheet of paper. Headaches, blurred vision and a belly ache??? Sign me up! We talked a bit more about what to expect and then he handed me a single form to fill out. The form was ridiculously simple in its wording. No lawyer-speak whatsoever. I read it and signed at once. He took the form and filed it in a drawer and pulled out a small gold metal box. He gently placed it on the desk as if it were made out of glass. “OK, Jackie boy, moment of truth.” He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Are you nervous?” he asked.
I nodded slightly saying, “Just a bit, yeah.” He nodded in perceived understanding.
Licking his dry lips, he said, “It’s going to be all right. You’re doing the right thing.” As he brought open the small gold box, he said, “Here…is to…your new…life.” The box lay open before me. Two deeply blue gel pills lay in the container. They seemed to have motion, as if the seven seas were trapped within. “I envy you,” Roy said, gold tooth gleaming in the fluorescent light. “And I thank you for your business.” Swallowing the pills was like swallowing capsules of liquid ice. They went down cold and gave me stomach freeze for a few minutes after. “That cold sensation will pass,” Roy said smiling. “In the meanwhile, you will need to get some type of teething ring—like for babies—or an ice pack that you can use. You should begin teething in a few hours.”
“Teething?” I said, growing concerned.
“Yes, teething. How did you think they were going to come in? By magic?” He chuckled. “After the first day, your dentures will become unusable. Don’t throw them away just in case but everything should go well and you should not need them ever again. Now, I’m extremely busy. Do you have any questions before you leave?” I slowly shook my head, flummoxed at taking in all of this new data. “OK, well then,” He said rising and leading me to the door. “Have a wonderful day and an amazing new life. You deserve it, Jackie boy. Keep in touch if you have any questions, comments or concerns. Bye bye now.” His final words upon closing the door. I made my way out of the lobby and back to my car. My new life had begun and I didn’t even know it.
The first changes came fast and hard. That night as I slept in bed, I woke up violently to the feeling of a knife being stabbed slowly into my gums. I sat bolt upright in bed rubbing at my gums. It only took a second to feel a stinging sensation in my fingers. I withdrew them from my mouth to discover the tips bloody and cut. I ran to the bathroom, washed them off and bandaged them. The realization dawned on me and I faced the mirror. Slowly opening my mouth, I discovered a mouthful of sharp nubs. They were little more than pointy tips sticking out from the gum line but they were white and somehow monstrously beautiful. The pills were working, but…but…I grabbed my cell. Too late at night to call Roy. Will have to do that in the morning. I hoped I could get back to sleep, but I never did. Too much excitement and I kept running back to the mirror. Later that morning, the nubs were now half way out, like you could almost watch them growing. I got Roy on the cell phone after the third try. He told me that this was curious, but no real cause for concern. He said that it came on differently for everyone and of course the teeth began with points, it was how they broke through the gum line. He told me to keep him posted and enjoy the new life. He again broke the call and I went back to the mirror. Nearly full-grown now, the sharp new pearly whites gleamed in the bathroom light. There was a significant amount of pain to begin with and slight blood loss, but by the afternoon, the pain and blood had stopped and the teeth were full grown fangs. The hunger came then…
&
nbsp; I was watching a horror movie that evening, the new remake of Stephen King’s It, when my stomach gave a loud grumble. I stopped the movie and got up and went to the fridge. There was nothing in there that looked even close to appetizing so I grabbed my car keys and headed to the store. I walked through the front door and made a b-line for the meat section. My body and hunger were guiding me at this point. Not knowing if it was too soon or not and not really caring, I watched in fascination as my hand—now trembling slightly—grabbed the largest of the beef steaks and then grabbed a second one as well. Walking up toward the counter, a guy I went to high school with a thousand years ago, intercepted me.
Individually Wrapped Horrors Page 8
