Given the option again, I probably would have had my nuts crushed.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m obviously grateful that everything still jangled as I walked the plank. Staring down into the bubbling hot pit far below, I felt the boys nudge a reminder they were still attached before they scurried inside me for cover. Cowards.
Now I’m not great with heights at the best of times. Norm’ly I don’t like to admit that. But seein’ as how the fat lady is clearing her throat, I’m gonna tell a few home truths. I ain’t usually so honest about sayin’ such things. ‘Specially in my line of work. Sign of weakness. Any clue and they’ll move you to another location. No hesitation whatsoever.
Bunk beds. Christ. Don’t get me started. Try getting up and down them when you see dawn breaking on the curtains. ‘Spose, looking back, I was lucky I didn’t get too many of those gigs. No sirree. Sixteen – no - eighteen years of fairying! Has it really been that long?
Give me your straight-up single or doubles. Bungalow if you’re offerin’. Make it easy to get in and out. No fuss. No mess. Here you go Boss. Seven teeth in one night. Goodnight and God Bless. You couldn’t do that in a week now, even if you had all day, all night. Those were the good ol’ days. But then again, that was before the Rot…
They’re shouting all ‘round me now. Egging me on. I can’t help but smile. The humans have a sayin’. I spent enough time around them to know ‘em well enough. More than most, that’s for sure. They says, ‘somedays you’re the pigeon. Other days you’re the statue’. Ain’t that the truth.
Just so happens that today I’m the statue. But before I fall, I want you to join me. It’s a helluva story.
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Come to think of it, eighteen years is a long time. Went by in a blink. ‘Cept for the interview. I still remember that. Still wake up in a cold panic about it too. She has that impression. Real nice like.
That fateful mornin’ I’m standing there, gettin’ ready, looking at myself in the mirror. Clipping my beard real neat. Back then it was jet black. That’s how Lena liked it. Job stress soon ended that. God, I remember it so well.
“Missed a spot,” she had said, taking my blade and scratching my cheek. Her smile always had a way of calming me down.
I’d trade everything to be in those shoes again.
“I’m late,” I say. “Wish me luck.”
I fling a blazer jacket ‘round me. She adjusts my tie. We share a quick kiss and then I’m off to hail a cab, praying traffic works in my favor.
Now I don’t believe in fate, but of all the drivers to get, I end up with a far darrig. Talk about a bad omen. Can’t take some fairies at face value anymore. Anyways, I get in the backseat and give this guy directions. Minute we start moving, he pipes up and gives me this real cute sob story. Don’t remember the detail now. I tried zonin’ out. In my lap I got study notes for the interview. Why do you want to be a tooth fairy? What skills do you think you’d need? The hell if I know. ‘Cos I need the money. Is that reason enough? Me and Lena knocked our heads together the night before and came up with a script Scorcese would be proud of. Problem is, I just can’t get it to stick in my brain. The guy won’t shut up.
So, I’m sitting in the back, trying to get my thoughts together and after ‘bout ten minutes, I realize we’re going in the wrong direction! He looks round at me. Big fat, hairy face starts sniggering. Sayin’ how he took a wrong turn. Two wrongs certainly don’t make a right when you’re headed on the highway away from town. Can you believe it? I give him an earful. Finally, he makes a U-turn and we’re back on route again. I have to tuck my notes away in case he decides to take another detour.
When he pulls up to a stop, I already have the fare ready. Cab’s and most stores accept all creature currency. At the bottom of the pile just so happens to be my currency of choice. The value ain’t so hot these days. Thanks to the Rot. I hand over a badly rotten premolar. That’ll teach ‘em. He starts lookin’ at it, screwing his nose up. I think it used to belong to a gerbil. I can’t remember. I won it in a card game, years back. Hadn’t had a good reason to use it until that point. Was savin’ it for the right time.
Anyways, I’m already out the door when he starts kicking up a stink. I don’t hear it. Partly ‘cos I’m standing there, looking up at this huge domed building with white walls, polished and gleamin’. I don’t remember if the sun was out that day, but that’s how I remember it. A big set of doors in front. I walk through, half in a daze, nearly forgettin’ what I’m there for.
A cute receptionist steps out from behind her desk and takes my name. Points me to a seat. I don’t need to wait long. I hear the foot strides of a woman before she appears ‘round the corner. She comes straight up to me. Bold as brass. Little mischievous look in her eye. Now, I seen pixies before but none so good looking as her. She’s got a little saw cut hairstyle, and I try my best to act all professional like, even though I’m nervous as hell. I follow her through a side door, along a corridor, ‘til we stop outside a boardroom. It’s empty inside. The door is open, and she suggests I sit down.
“Her Highness will be along in a few minutes. Can I get you anything?”
Yeah. I know, right? I didn’t expect no royalty either. Now I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t sweating buckets at that point. She leaves to fetch me a water. Buy me some time. I’m lookin’ down at my shirt, feeling it hug my chest, praying that the damp don’t show much underneath. I try and fatten my tie, so she won’t see the sweat. Pixie never comes back. Eighteen years later, I’m still waiting for that water.
When there is someone at the door, it’s her. I seen enough pictures in the old books to know. Back then, she wasn’t too media friendly. Never appeared to the common fairy. Didn’t have to. Had a team around her that would do her bidding. Times have changed though. Even she’s gotta keep up appearances to the masses.
That day, I never expected to meet her for an interview. I get up, trip over a few words. Her face doesn’t even twitch. Cold stare like. Now, I know what you’re thinking. I did do. Don’t believe the stories. This is one cold-blooded bitch we’re talking about. I’ll get to that. Anyway, I’m there, all gooey-eyed and star struck, ‘til she kills me stone-dead with one command.
“Sit down.”
Just like that! Like I said. Charmer. I couldn’t tell you what we talked about for the next forty-five minutes. I just remember her eyes. Black as coal. Lifeless. I swear the woman didn’t event blink. And to think. This was the Fairy Godmother! Come to think of it, she hasn’t aged a day since then. I’ll always r’member that stare. Bore right through me. I had half a mind to get up and leave but I don’t think my legs woulda had the energy.
Well, whatever I said worked. The job was mine. If I passed the medical.
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6am. There’s six of us at the base of Sugarloaf mountain. Streetlights are still burnin’ bright. Houses twinkle below us. People getting’ up very early for work, or to take a pee. It’s still dark. I’m zippered up in my hoodie, rubbin’ hands together for heat. Quick introductions make it clear we’re all there for the same reason. We compare notes on the interview and most have reached the conclusion that our potential new Boss is a ball-busting bitch. That puts me at ease. Some of them could be my new work mates. A friendly bunch. But are we competing against each other?
“So, we just wait?” I ask them and get a Mexican wave of shrugs.
One of them, a small plump man, wearing a wine colored shellsuit that makes him look like a grape, starts limbering up. He’s been quiet so far. Like a yawn, his warm-up routine begins to infect us all. Soon, we’re all stretchin’ this way and that. Some a bit more limber than others.
Grape takes off his top. Paper padding falls out, before he knots the jacket around his waist. He’s just lost 30lbs. Suddenly lookin’ less like the weakest link and more like the front-runner.
“OK gents,” he says. “I hope you’re ready. You’ve had a chance to certainly warm up your mouths.”
We look at one another, open-mouthed. That was a nasty trick. The first in a long line of them I was to find out.
“1200 feet between here and the top of Sugarloaf,” he says. “That’s an incline of 63 degrees. Soon you’ll be crawlin’ on your hands and knees. Your calves won’t know what’s hit them.”
We’ve formed a semi-circle around him. Some of the faces already look beaten, regrettin’ the loose talk. We look up the steep incline. Rocky, loose terrain that isn’t the clearest to see in this light.
“Your challenge is to get to the top and back in under two hours. Those who do? Welcome to the team. Those who don’t? You’ll be reported to the authorities for slander and perjury against her Highness.”
Nodding heads from the group as we watch the instructor raise his arm and press a few buttons on his watch. Little electronic beeps break the tension. A fairy on my right, regretting the fact he didn’t do a warm up now breaks into star jumps. After a few of those, he’s out of breath and leaning on my shoulder. Good luck buddy!
“At the top, you’ll find five green flags under rocks marked with an ‘X’. Take it and bring it back to base.”
“But, there’s four of us.” One of the fairies says, which releases a tight smile from Grape’s face.
“That’s right. Don’t be the one that doesn’t make it back.”
We look at each other. From strangers to colleagues to competitors. All in the space of five minutes. A whistle from the instructor. Don’t need to ask me twice. I’m first outta the traps.
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Last time I broke into anything like a sprint was for school sports day, a decade earlier. That is to say, when it came my turn to take part in it, I ran from the teachers.
I was never the most athletic. Though, to look at me, you’d think otherwise. I’ve got that popular skinny-fat look goin’ on which means I can hide the gut under clothes. See me on a beach though, and you’d think I had swallowed a boulder.
But, I did have one advantage that day which definitely helped. Lena and I had been dating for a year by that stage. Early on in our relationship, I told her I knew all the constellations. Told her, I used to spend my teenage years starin’ up at the sky and ponderin’ the great questions of our Universe. Not a total lie. My parents installed a skylight in my bedroom, and I would sleep twelve hours a day. The big questions? When I’d get my first hair. When I’d meet the right girl. Normal stuff that plagues a teenage mind.
Anyways, Lena was charmed by this amateur astronomer and insisted we spend a night under the stars on top of Sugarloaf. We carried up sleeping bags and made a little campfire. It was there where we first did the deed. Five dates in. Under a blanket of stars in a cool Summer night is what she’ll tell you. Very romantic. In front of thousands of homes and swarmed by mosquitoes is what I’ll tell you. Stage fright.
The route up that time was trickier than I reckoned, ‘specially since I was the mule carryin’ the stuff on my back. She had moved ahead and pointed out the easiest track. The night sky was closin’ in around us. Few times we came up against a wall face and had to trace our steps back. Her, shining a torch in front. The Scully to my Mulder.
After our fourth night visit to the mountain, it was easier to find the path of least resistance. Which is to say, one that gave a nice level curve to the top. Back then Lena was a lot fitter than me. Two decades of fairyin’ later though, and I can hold my own.
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Using my mountain knowledge, I pulled away from the early pace setters. I see where they’re headed. Soon, they’re gonna burn up their energy and hit a wall. They don’t see me as I slope off around the side. Slow and steady wins the race.
Less than an hour later, as the sun starts to appear, I’m at the summit. In the center, rocks pin down the green flags. I run over, pull out one. For a minute, I think about hidin’ the others. Just to delay the rest but think better of it. I’m in the lead. That’s enough.
I come back the way I came. A short while later, one of the fairies crosses my path. Bookies probably woulda marked him as a sure thing at the startin’ line. Skinny, wiry type like he is used to runnin’ for his dinner. He stares at the cloth in my hand and then at me. There’s a look that crosses his eyes. I come to know that look. Desperation.
“Don’t even think about it.”
I ain’t the violent sort, but if I’m provoked, hell hath no fury like it. He steps forward and I get into that springy cat position, just about to unleash some David Banner on his ass. A head appears over his shoulder. He turns around quickly, and sees the runner, then decides better of it, sprinting past me to the mountain top.
For safety, I tuck the flag inside my pocket and give the other two a wide berth. Lot easier goin’ down than it is comin’ up. Their energy reserves are nearly gone. Just gotta keep my head up and eye on the track in front.
When I get to the bottom, Grape is there to greet me. Hittin’ a button on his watch, he takes out a stubby notepad where he jots down something.
“Well done,” he says, and gives an impressive nod. “First back and in ninety-five minutes. That’s a new record.”
I double over, panting hard. He pats me on the back as I try and hoover up the air.
“I’ll let that loose talk from earlier slide. We’ll keep that between us. What’s your name?”
“Ray Jones.” I stand up tall now, swipin’ the forehead sweat away with my arm. Dawn light beams down on me from high above.
“Well Ray, you’re now a fully-fledged bona-fide tooth fairy,” he says and extends a hand. “Congratulations. Welcome to the team.”
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Starting off, we were a team of forty. Three of the runners that day were thrown into my team. They turned out to be good guys actually. Ah, the good ol’ days! We were split by zip code. Not the cleverest way of doing things, I know, but at least there was some kinda order. Clear boundaries. Meant that each fairy had their own patch. No overlap. ‘Course you’d still get a few that broke the rules. People do desperate things in desperate times. Wouldn’t you if you had mouths to feed? But, we sorted things out between ourselves. No need to get her involved.
But like I said, things were different back then. People had your back. Generally speakin’ ‘course. You never knew for certain, but if you kept good accounts, then everything would run like clockwork. If you didn’t, then enjoy the shit show. I’ll get to that.
I remember my first trade. Almost crapped myself, I did. Don’t mind admittin’ it. Think it was in Zone 94207. Yeah, that’s right. Leadin’ up to that point, we had had a couple weeks of training. Mainly adapting to the difference in sizes. There’s a training portal that we used. When we jumped through it, we’d come out the other end – their end, tiny-fairy sized. Six inches in human measurements. There was a lot to learn. A lot of physical training. How to avoid getting’ trampled on. How to use the Fairy dust. Best practice for climbin’ bed sheets and makin’ a quick exit. The best learnin’ tho’ was done on the job. They can’t prepare you for real life. And boy did I have to learn fast.
First trade was a family of five. Three young boys. I collect the coins at the pick-up point near the portal and hitch a ride on a stray. First time riding a cat. It really was a day of firsts. Anyway, there’s me scoping out the house from the outside, trying to figure out the layout of the rooms, climbin’ up onto windowsills and peekin’ under curtains. Gotta remember, this was before all the smart tech came in. Yeah, I am that old. Anyways, it’s only a one-story so it doesn’t take that long to scout.
I quickly figure out the little gits all share the same bedroom. Cartoon wallpaper a dead giveaway. Either that or the parents have some serious issues. Anyway, I dab some of the Dust on my virgin tongue like they tol’ us in training. Years later, I’d be snorting the stuff. Anyways, it kicks in and as soon as I feel the rush, I run through the brick wall. Poof! Straight through. What a kick! When I come back down a few seconds later, I’m still running and nearly crash into the wardrobe.
So, I’m there, cover of darkness and all that. There’s a little light comin’ through the doorway, opened a crack. Makes things a lot easier for us fairies I tell you that much. Sounds like they’re all asleep. There’s toys scattered everywhere. I mean everywhere. I can barely even put my foot down without something coming to life. But I’m real careful. Prowlin’ like a big cat. Stalkin’ its prey. ‘Cept I’m the complete opposite. I’m heaving like a two ton Tessie. Over one shoulder, in my bag and weighing me down, is a couple of coins. One too many. Should have left the other with the cat. I hear them clink together, worried it’ll wake ‘em up.
When I get to one of the beds, I’m looking up at Everest. It takes me the best part of thirty minutes to climb it. I lose a kilo of sweat trying to haul myself up on a sheet that hangs from the ground. In desperation, I drag a little firetruck over, and climb its ladder up to the bed. It’s just high enough for me to get to basecamp in the sheet, and then I drag my ass the rest of the way over. The little scrote is lying on his stomach, twitching face pointed toward me. I pull out my pin prick of torch light and move up close to his mouth. When I pull back the lips and shine it inside, I realize I’ve got the wrong kid. Crap.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Lucky for me bed #2 is the right one, else I’d still be there. I emptied my bag of coins, tossed them under the pillow and grabbed what was mine. My first tooth and boy was she a beaut! When I go outside again, the cat is still there. Didn’t even need to use my whistle to call her.
Wish all my trades had been as textbook as that. I didn’t know it at the time, o’ course. There were a lot of hairy moments along the way. One ‘specially. And I can guarantee that’s the best shit story you’ve ever heard.
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Just when you think you know it all, something always comes along to give you a kick in the nuts. Take a bow, Joey Walker. At the grand old age of seven, Joey wasn’t necessarily a horrible kid. Taken in isolation. But. As we all know, kids are rarely on their own. S’like saying, storing an M1917 semi-automatic machine gun in an empty house is perfectly fine. On its own. Introduce a bunch of kids and that’s when the fun really starts.
Good ol’ Joey. Getting up to all sorts. A special case if ever there was one. The fact he was in an orphanage probably won’t come as much of a surprise. Him and his band of merry men, all profited from my services. I say they. Joey acted as the middle man between tooth-giver and fairy for the group. Whether through choice or coercion, the dozen or so other kids in the home trusted him with their fallen-out teeth. Those he felt weren’t pulling their weight, he’d ask for daily reports, going so far as helpin’ accelerate things with a well-placed punch. A kind soul.
Strung around his neck was a little velvet pouch which would hang down to his bony chest. In it, was a mouthful of teeth he had been collecting over the months. Otherwise known as my pot of gold.
I was about four years into the job at that point. Doing well. Top sales rep most months. Hadn’t been a bed of roses. Never is when you workin’ in sales. Clean slate every month. Go do it all again. Yes Mam.
Had my eye on Joey for a while. The notification popped up on my phone one day. Thought it was bogus when I first saw it. They were starting to roll out the tech at that point, but there were a few kinks that needed ironin’ out.
So, the reading from the pillow sensor tells me there’s seven isolates. Canines and premolars. All healthy and young. Well, you can just imagine. My eyes lit up, thinking JACKPOT. It’s only when I arrived that night that I found out about the pouch. After some private eye stuff, I noticed that the little ballbag of teeth he carried around went everywhere. The little shit even slept with it. It was bound up real tight too. Double knots. My fairy fingers are nimble but even with weeks of tugging and tweaking, I couldn’t get the damn thing loose.
Few months later and that bag of seven had grown to sixteen! Every time I visited, I could see the bag was getting more swollen. One month when I wasn’t hitting my number, I brought a saw with me to the orphanage. I must have spent all night sawing on that cord, but I barely made a dent. Worst of all, I lost all idea of time and before I know it, there’s sun on the curtains outside. I hear a knock on the door behind me. Joey opens his eyes. Sees me sitting on the bed, a few human inches from his head, exhausted.
We look right at each other. I’m frozen. It’s only when he screams that I get to my feet and start hauling ass. ‘Course I left the saw behind as I glide down the rope on the side of the bed. I nearly forget that too, but a quick yank pulls it with me. I start snorting dust like crazy, just as I notice him getting off the bed, searching the floor with his eyes. Big feet that would stomp me in an instant. Before he knows it, I’ve already disappeared.
Took it easy after that. A good scare ev’ry now and again s’good to make sure you don’t get complacent. Let things stew for a few weeks. But you know what they says – ‘Can’t keep a good fairy down’.
Next time I go back I’ve got climbing boots, a hunter’s knife, night vision goggles and a head torch. I’m kitted out like Rambo Fairy.
So, I get down to it again. Makin’ sure he’s asleep. Pullin’ one heavy lid open to see. Out like a light. He’s rolled onto his back so I climb up on his chest. The bag of teeth is about my size. I haven’t even thought about how I’m gonna carry all these teeth. All I want is to get inside. Turns out the knife blade is a lot better at cutting than the saw. Still takes me a few hours. Just as I’m feeling the last few strands of it stretch under my cut, what does the kid do? Starts a sneezing fit! Blows me right off his chest. I nearly fall off the bed, clinging to the edge for dear life. When I do get a foothold, I see Joey’s asleep but lying on his side. The pouch is hanging on him. The string has come loose on the other side. The relief!
I walk over, all casual like, even though my back and arm are sore as hell from cutting all night. Suddenly, he opens his eyes. Exact same as last time. He blinks a few times. I’m stuck, wondering what the hell to do. I seen kids just close their eyes and go back to sleep. Thinking they just had a bad dream. Not our Joey. He lets out another scream. Wakes the whole house up. He bolts out of bed. The springs bounce me about. There’s an earthquake under my feet. Next thing I know, someone has turned on a light and I’m exposed. Just sitting there.
This big bull of a woman comes in, dressed in a nightie. Comes right up to Joey. Joey looks like he’s seen a ghost, pointing toward the bed where I am. I make a dash for the bed cover, and hide as best I can, searching in my pockets for my bag of dust. He’s arguing with the woman who looks none too impressed, and then get this. She says-
“You and your bloody imagination!”
She pulls the little bag off Joey’s neck. It was dangling there, God knows how, clinging to his sweat. She walks into the bathroom next door to the bedroom, Joey following. I hear the toilet flush and then the cries of Joey.
“Grow up!” she says and slams the door shut on her way out.
It’s a few minutes before Joey comes back in. I’ve already made it down to the floor, hiding under the bed. He doesn’t even look for me. He’s lost interest. Turns off the light and gets back into bed. I hear him cryin’ in his sleep, but don’t get out ‘til I hear snores.
When I go check out the toilet, my hopes are crushed. The bag hasn’t floated up. My mind starts working overdrive. You know, I’m not one to give up easy. No sirree. Here’s my logic for what you’re about to hear. Least you can see some method in my madness. I’m thinking this ain’t just a one-off. My brain is working like crazy. Maybe there’s lots of isolates flushed down the toilet all ‘round the country. Think ‘bout it. Lots have gone missin’. Not been reported. Just maybe, if I get to that place, I’ll find my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow – or at least at the end of the sewage pipe.
Worth a go, I decide. So, I hop up onto the toilet rim, manage to lift up the tank lid. I chuck my tools inside, figuring they’d be safe there. When I drop it down, I take a deep breath. It takes all my strength to pull down on the flusher, but when I do, I divebomb into the swirling water below.
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Good thing about being fairy sized in their world is that you get into tiny spots where others can’t. ‘Spose bad thing about that then is human sized things are obviously lot bigger. When they see beautiful things, I see ugliness. A pretty flower infested with tiny mites. A beautiful painting, cracked and decayin’. And that’s just the good lookin’ stuff.
Ever seen a marbled human turd up close? It’s a real work of art. Seen the threads of corn that stitch it together? Something Dr. Frankenstein would be proud of I tell ya.
How long did it take before I realized what a bad idea jumpin’ in the toilet was? Oh…I’d say about fifteen seconds. First part was pretty cool. Didn’t expect no water slide park. I had my head torch on. It wasn’t much help. I was sloshin’ round in them pipes ‘til I was black and blue. I’m strugglin’ to catch a breath, falling deeper into this hole. Talk about shit creek without a paddle. Suddenly, I’m fallin’ through the air.
Ever had one of those perfect moments when time stands still? Or everything slows? Beautiful innit? Yeah, well mine ended when I face-planted in a river of shit.
The smell? Came up smellin’ roses, whadya think? I was covered in it. Every inch. I was picking it out every hole for days to come. The missus sure loved that. Got in my pores. I was sweating it out of me. Real joy to be around back then. Talk about going the extra mile? And then some.
Now, I’m thinking, cut my losses. Snort dust, or what crumbly shitty fragments are left of it in my pocket. Get out of there, onto dry ground, then use my whistle. Then I’d catch my ride, hoping I get a cat that don’t mind my eau de toilette, arrive back at the Kingdom and then scrub myself ‘til it bleeds.
‘Course, then there’s that other part of me. The one that got me into this mess. He’s telling me that the worst is over. Nothing left to lose by hoking around. God, I hate that prick.
So, I’m doing the backstroke through some boiled turds, trying not to gulp down any giblets. Big rubbery condoms float on the surface, bloated jellyfish. They’re trying to trap me but I finally get to the edge of this tunnel. Least I think it’s a tunnel the way the walls were shaped. There’s a platform on the side, too steep for me to climb up. So, I start roundin’ up some shitbergs and wedging them against this wall. It’s not the most stable thing in the underworld. Some of the crap won’t mix. I’m saying, ‘let’s all get along’. I need to use some elbow grease ‘til I’ve gelled my Frankenturd and dug footholds into it. After some trial and error, I get up on the platform.
When I’m on solid ground, I take a breather. I dump my whistle on the ground. The little bag of dust – it’s wet through and through. Can’t tell you how excited I am to snort that. I start taking off my clothes and wring them out. My pockets are full of sunken treasure, weighing me down. After a minute, I’m in my birthday suit. In a sewer. Covered in shit. You could say I was reviewing my career options at that point.
Cut a long story short, I spend the next couple hours trawling the bottom of the sewer floor searching for teeth. Did I find any? A couple. They had nearly rotted away to nothin’ though. Hardly worth the travel expense alone. Did I find Joey’s bag of teeth? Nah. Damn thing got away from me again. Oh, well. Shit happens.
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When the Rot came, it changed everything. I was nine years into the job. Doing pretty well too, thanks for askin’.
It was, what you call it, a gradual thing. Like death by a thousand papercuts. The first lick might sting but you don’t pay no attention. Before you know it, you’re dead meat. Y’ask me and I think it started with the fluoride in the water. Now, you’ll probably call me some conspiracy nut, but I did my own research. Some of the others thought it’d be a good thing. Think they been drinking the Kool-Aid and it’s rotted their brains. Word from up top was that fluoride was gonna be put into toothpastes too. Young teeth were soon gonna be bathing in the stuff. Bright, polished healthy teeth for us to go after. Hmmm. I weren’t convinced.
Eating habits was changin’ too. That’s what marketing was telling us. They did some research saying that kids was eating more crap than ever. I coulda told you that much. After nine years on the job, I was seeing it. There were times I had to crawl through beds of candy wrappers. Some of the kids were using fizzy drinks as mouthwash, ‘specially in the worse places. The teeth I was finding wasn’t worth as much as when I first started. You could even see the rot on the isolates. On milkies! Don’t need to look hard none neither. This from kids. How’s that possible? OK, I’ll quit with the fluoride stuff. But coincidence?
Before, we’d be getting less teeth, better quality. After the Rot, it was the other way ‘round. More teeth, less quality. Hit’s the pocket. Suddenly, you’re working longer hours just to break even. Call me romantic and all that, but don’t call me a liar. I was earning more off those early trades. Sometimes, twice as much. You don’t know they’re the good ol’ days’ ‘til they’re gone. Ain’t that the truth.
Anyways, so around that time we’re all feeling the squeeze. Some of the ol’ crew had already cashed in their teeth and retired. Targets are up, quality of the isolates are going down. ‘Cept now there are molars and pre’s. Never would’ve had those nine years ago. Now, there’s one in every twenty. Rotten or not, they’re still damn tough. And a better margin. So, every cloud. Whatever makes her happy, I guess.
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Speaking of which, I only seen the Fairy G lose it three times. With me obviously – I’ll get to that. Two years ago. Then the first time was four years ago. Seems to be a pattern there. Huh. Never noticed that before. Guess I’m the sacrifice this year.
Each time, they were marched along the plank. We’d all be watching from the side, hurling abuse. All for show, of course. Had to do what the council ordered, ‘specially when she was around.
At least I was given an option. Don’t get me wrong. Still, not much of an option. We ain’t talking medium or well-done steaks here. S’far as I could tell, for the others it was a one-way ticket to Acidville. Jumping into the mouth of a hollowed-out whales tooth, filled with boiling rotten waste. So toxic and foul, it’s making me all misty-eyed for the sewers again. Good times.
Sarah Volt was first to die. Somethin’ cracked in her head, long before she vaulted off the plank like an Olympic diver. Somersaults and cartwheels as she went head first into the slime. Her crime? Smugglin’. She always seemed low on fairy dust. We’re given a quota each month, and she always had to borrow from the rest of the team. Proper pain she was. We all thought she was an addict. Turns out she was caught creating little hollows in the teeth, filling it up with the dust, and puttin’ a metal filling over the top. Clever idea. I’m sure the hobgoblins paid her a tidy profit for that. But you can’t take it with you. RIP Sarah.
Teddy Jones was two years ago. Little Napoleon. Didn’t last long. Twelve months on the job before he realized it wasn’t like the magic tales. The life of a fairy is blood, sweat and tears. He started a rebellion. Plannin’ to overthrow the Fairy G. Started circulating flyers, anonymous like, all ‘round the town. Hired a team of brownies to plaster it across billboards, forest trees, street lights – even tucked it in the collars of our cats in their world as if the humans would care. At the bottom of the flyer was Teddy’s email address. Yeah, not the sharpest tooth in the mouth.
Then there’s me. I’m not gonna win the Darwin award anytime soon. I’m almost embarrassed to be in the same league as them. Harsh, I say. But then again. Maybe I had it coming. I’ll let you decide.
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The first time I gave a tooth a push was six months ago. It was barely hanging on by a root. I gave it a kick with my steel capped toe, and it popped right out of his mouth. I’d be damned if I was gonna wait another evening. Not with my bills. I picked up the one that made the sensor go off – an incisor – and slipped it and the second bonus one in my bag. Two for the price of one. Feelin’ pretty happy with myself I was. Went under the radar. Ended my shift early that night. Think that’s when the idea sprouted in my own head.
Every visit I made after that, I’d take a detour of the mouth. Just on the off chance you know? One in twenty times, there’d be one just waiting to be taken. I’d see the isolate wobble with every breath that the kid would take. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same. All I gave was a little encouragement. Didn’t see the big fuss. S’not like I was ripping teeth out. Well. Not at that point.
If they weren’t ridin’ us so hard, then maybe I would have stopped. Higher targets. The Rot was getting worse. What’s a guy to do?
First time I did it and felt anything like guilt was a couple months ago. Musta spent an hour lookin’ ‘round the pillow for the tooth. Sometimes, they slip inside. I even seen kids swallow them by accident. Good luck fishing that out Moby Dick. But they always show up. Sensor never lies. If there’s one thing I’ll give the Fairy G, it’s that she designed that well. Guess that’s where most of the tax we pay goes. Research and Development.
Anyways, I’m goin’ through a bad streak at that point. Worse than ever. It’s end of my shift, and I’m not going home without something. Kid’s mouth is gaped open. I’m sitting on my ass, breathing heavy, staring into this head’s hole.
‘Right’, I says.
I pick up my hammer and crawl inside to see what I can find. He has a mouth tarmacked in metal. All stubs and angry uproots. Gums are shot red. I’m squishing on them and there’s blood oozing out with every step. I expect him to wake up any minute, but I’m beyond caring. There’s a big ugly sore around one tooth on the side. A canine. Looks like a little volcano. He’s been biting into his cheek with it and it isn’t healing. Figure I’m doin’ the kid a favor. I can see the gum doesn’t have a good hold of the tooth. It doesn’t have a good hold of any of the teeth. I’m in a house full of cards.
Anyways, I take out my hammer and start slapping the tooth hard with it. It’s only a few blows before it slides out. Kid doesn’t even miss a breath. I clear off with the rotten tooth. Every little helps.
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Don’t sound serious enough to threaten me with the flat sack or the plank. I’m getting to it, yeah? Jeez.
I s’pose the one that got me was when I met my mate Joey again. Remember Joey? Well, kid’s all grown up now, but guess what? Still believes in the tooth fairy. And people say I have issues. Leave’s a tooth out one evening and I get the alert. New client? Yes, please.
Poor Joey’s holed up in some psych ward.
Somethin’ ‘bout me you should know. I never forget a mouth. It’s like a fingerprint. ‘Cept even better. It can tell a lot about a person. Diet, stress, hygiene. See, with a mouthful of teeth you can tell a whole history. But a fingerprint? It’s just a snapshot in time.
Well, Joey’s was a mouth I had been in a good few times. This was a good few years since we met. He’d traded a lot of the milkies for adults now o‘course, but I could still tell by the formation it was him. Lot of the back teeth were ground down now. A grinder. That gave me joy to see. Stressed out a little are we buddy? I’m wondering if he was still thinking of that lost little bag of teeth. That would be worth a pretty penny now in today’s market.
Anyways, so I get a GPS reading of the sensor on my watch and find his room. Those hospital beds are worse than bunks. Nothing to grab onto. Fortunately, I’ve got my grapplin’ gun. I’ve gone through some upgrades. Batman 2.0. Real kick ass. I shoot a loop up round the handle on one side of the bed, and hit the button, reeling myself up. First thing I notice is his hands are strapped down on each side of the bed. He’s sleep twitching pretty hard. Proper Exorcist shit! It’s only when I climb up onto his chest that I notice he’s staring right at me. No kiddin’!
His mouth is crumbling with teeth. There’s a half broken one glued to his cheek with spit. His head’s bolted down. I can see the whites of his eyes scanning for help. ‘Course I’m about to jump ship. Not as young as I used to be. I been spotted before but that’s been by kids. Overactive imaginations, they were told. Just a dream, they were told. Can’t get too cocky though. There’s a reason we carry the red pill with us. Like they told us in training, once the cover is blown, and there’s no way out – then you go dead red. Poof! Vaporized. Last resort.
But, watching my old buddy struggling. Seeing the fear in his eyes as I strut along his chest? I couldn’t be more confident. I was gonna get me some revenge.
I think he recognizes me. Well, ‘spose if you’re human you kinda remember a guy the size of your thumb that wakes you up in the middle of the night. Yeah, he definitely knows me. First thing he does after screaming is close his mouth shut. Pressed real tight. Yeah, he knows. I’m a badass tooth fairy and I’ve come to collect.
Memories of that shitty palace. Trawling through the jobbies and muck. Swallowing curdled lumps of the waste. Eyes burning with the ammonia. The putrid smell. My lost pot of gold.
The red mist descends. I start swinging my sledge as hard as I can at his mouth. He’s taking the blows full on the lips. He’s breathing hard. Snot is flying down at me, making things slippy. So, I go up to his eyes. They’re fluttering real cute like butterflies. I start ripping out eyelashes. One by one. He’s wincing. Shutting ‘em real tight. So, I goes up to his ear. Real gentle like.
“This is for those kids whose teeth you knocked out,” I says. “More importantly, it’s for losing that bag of teeth you asshole.”
He starts thrashing and calling out for his mammy. Beautiful! I step back, just watching. Calm like, ‘til his fit passes. Then his mouth opens. Course I’m not taking the bait just like that. He could chop my head off with one bite, the minute I go inside. Lucky, this time I’ve got my tranq dart with me, so I find his jugular and stab him in the neck. Just to be doubly sure, like.
Few minutes later, he’s snorin’ and I’ve got free passage to his mouth. Success! By the time I’m done, his mouth is full of blood. Teeth? I take the best of a bad bunch.
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I s’spect that it was the amount of blood that triggered the alarm. Sensor must have picked it up. Just my luck to be caught by one of the upgraded pillows. There’s that R&D money. Thank you, taxman.
Anyways, what’s done is done. Council pull me up a few days later. Had me a hearing and everythin’. Character testimonies. The works. People coming out of retirement that I hadn’t seen since before the Rot. Grouping together to say what a nice guy I was. Trustworthy. Loyal. Yeah, I know. I thought they laid it on a bit thick too.
Next thing I know, they’ve passed their sentence. Castration which they think will help my ‘rages’. Or, be done with it. Walk the plank. Yeah. Like I said. Should have went nuts.
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So that’s me, standing at the end of a plank, lookin’ down at the hot pit below and certain death. The noise? Yeah. That’s a baying mob. Calling for my blood. Then there’s her. The Fairy G. Over on the side? That’s my beautiful Lena. What I wouldn’t give just to…
“Stop!” the Fairy Godmother says.
Everyone stops shouting, looking toward her. Her hand is held up. Everyone waits. She gets off her throne, and floats down the stairwell. She’s dressed in black today. Goes well with her heart. I’m on the edge of the plank, arms spread wide for balance. Hoping that a gust doesn’t blow me off.
She’s coming toward me. Oh God. I face her. See the crowds part as she walks through them. People kneel as she passes, bowing their heads. I take a step back. I’m out of plank. Below, I see the hot steam rise from the swamp. The pit is bubbling. Should be instant. Least that’s a relief. I can barely stand. I’m feeling faint. It doesn’t help when she steps onto the plank and walks toward me.
I can’t stand to look at her. I look across to Lena. Her head is in her hands. She’s crying. This bitch is gonna push me off! The final insult. I turn ‘round just before she meets me, bracin’ to jump.
“Wait!” she says.
My breath is held in my chest. I turn.
“I’m going to give you one last chance to redeem yourself,” she says.
She’s up real close. So close I can smell her breath. It smells like sweaty pennies. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. They’re all mumbling to each other. No one knows what the hell’s happn’in. Best I can do is take a big gulp and nod that I’m listening.
“People tell me,” she says, coming close and whispering so only I can hear, “you’re a fairy that isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty?”
I force a smile.
“That’s me. Ray Jones. At your service. How can I help?”
There’s a sparkle in her eyes as she reaches out a hand. It’s as cold as ice when I shake it. She smiles. I can tell this ain’t gonna end well.