“Flossed” - A Horror, Short Story

When the nitrous oxide hit my system, I felt it work immediately. The laughing gas certainly lives up to its name because I started seeing silly things, only what I saw wasn’t funny. I spotted this oddity, something like a gag gift you’d buy from a novelty shop. Lying on that cold dentist chair, I noticed Dr. Neer’s unique smile, more so his teeth, teeth that didn’t belong to a man whose profession was dentistry. I never noticed them before and for a second I wondered if it was a hallucination. I had to believe it was my drugged brain making me see things, surely, as before he slipped a surgical mask over his face, he flashed this crooked grin, revealing teeth that were corroded and mix-match, like soiled kernels of an Indian corn cob. They looked waxy and fake, black and gummy, like some kind of Halloween makeup. Plastic, joke teeth that checked all the boxes of being a wacky toy. Maybe it was his schtick, an attempt at ironic humor. I caught only a peep but it was strange enough to stick.

He leaned into me. “Just continue to breathe deeply, this will be over soon,” muffled Dr. Neer, shielding his corrupted set of biters behind a blue paper mask.

I’ve never felt anxious about having my teeth worked on, but I’ve always left with a raw face and a bad taste. Seeing the dentist was just another one of those things everyone went to do. For as long as I could remember Dr. Neer was my only dentist and it was his specialty to deliver discomfort at the expense of cleanliness. He was very serious about his work and loyal to his patients. He knew me by first and last name. He knew Ma was penny-pinching and referred us to an affordable orthodontist when I was 15. Back when I had those braces, Ma had bought me a water pick. Last month I got them taken off, but the fact of the matter was I spent a year housing gunk in my brackets. I never used the water pick, because if I had, and did a better job brushing, then I could’ve avoided this cavity.

It wasn’t fair to say what I saw redefined my opinion of my dentist, but lying there it became all I could think about. Anyone would agree that being a dental professional and having a set of rotten chompers were two incompatible traits. Even with the laughing gas, I grew unsettled thinking about what was hiding behind his mask. From past visits, I always knew Dr. Neer was a bit awkward, but it’s a stretch to call him a freak, or worse, compare him to a monster. He’s only a bit weird. I’ve heard other kids at school also see him for cleanings, including my best friend Tommy. Earlier, while I was still at school, Tommy joked and said the man was “autistic for teeth” and then he made a drooping face, moaning and twiddling his fingers around like some sort of cretin. It was funny to both of us but I knew “dedication” was the right word. I always figured, like any kind, it’s part of the career to be a master at what you do. Being a dentist pays well, but it’s hard work. It’s even harder work to get there. It's possible the man had to get obsessed during his studies, casting aside his social needs and forcing himself to love the human mouth in his formative years. If making six figures a year makes you a little peculiar, so be it.

And yet, if he was so keen on cleaning teeth, why couldn't he maintain his own?

A handful of seconds later, my eyes started to droop and I felt comfortably high, which was good because I feared the stuff wouldn’t work on me since I smoked so much dope. But here I was, inebriated and loopy. In my fix, I tried to touch the silicon nozzle strapped over my nose but the pretty assistant swatted my hand away. The gas smelled like strawberries, making me succumb to feelings of childlike giddiness. It also distracted me from the grinding mechanical sounds of death. The gas further jiggled my senses, and safely my brain forgot all about Dr. Neer’s zombified set of chompers. His assistant held the tools while he fiddled around my mouth. He took his time touching every tooth. When it came time for drilling I was completely conked, seeing double, and lost to the physical presence of my tongue.

He dug in. “Nasty, nasty.” I’m sure he said. “We should’ve flossed some more.”

He was shaking his head. It wasn’t the doctor’s mask drowning his voice to a dismal tone, but he sounded almost disappointed in me. It was like I let him down, this stranger I saw every six months. Despite this thought, there was something oddly intimate and equally shameful about letting Dr. Neer discover the rancid corners of my mouth. My spindly arms lay across one another and subconsciously I gripped my wrists, squeezing tightly.

As usual, Dr. Neer acted with great care and gradually excavated my cavity. He moved slowly but pressed hard, sometimes hitting a soft spot with curious pressure. Despite the shots of anesthetic, I’d wince. The frequent twinges of pain almost brought me back to reality, a subtle reminder that I wasn’t in some strawberry fairyland, but that the edges of my mouth were ripping and my gums bleeding. The funny gas flowed deep.

“Not good.” Dr. Neer mumbled. “Terribly…nasty.”

In my daze, I spotted his magnified eyes while he kept at his eerie picking, unmoving from the same spot in my mouth. Digging, tapping, poking, and then finally he filled up the hole with cement.

…

After it was all over, and my mouth contained a fresh filling, I awkwardly ordered an Uber. Ma had to drop me off since she had a work dinner. She demanded I request a car instead of trying to walk home like some fumbling drunk. The assistant input some details into the adjoining computer and said I was good to go ahead and check out.

I began down the hallway to the receptionist’s desk, head whipped and feeling light. An accumulated string of drool had been piling up in my bottom lip and dripped onto my hand. I wiped it on my shirt and smiled. The lingering feeling of the nitrous oxide was better than a bong hit. Along my exit, I was startled by someone lurking in the dark. They pulled me into an empty patient room. It was Dr. Neer, grabbing me by the shoulder with a stern grip, applying the same kind of pressure in his fingers I felt in my mouth. He stood over me, with his head tilted back, tucking his lips over his teeth. The sickening image of his teeth reemerged in my brain.

“That was a real sucker, wasn’t it,” he said, moving his lips delicately. He meant the cavity. His breath, undisguised by a mask, smelled like sun-baked bologna. He hid his teeth perfectly but I watched his mouth for any sort of peek-a-boo.

“‘Rah,” I grunted yes. I was still zigged and having trouble speaking properly.

His beady eyes tightened a little. “You did good. That assistant was new. I guess…you were her guinea pig.” Dr. Neer tittered.

The assistant was helpful and I didn’t care that she was being trained on me. She delivered a pleasant presence in contrast to Dr. Neer and his picking. Not only that but she was smoking hot, and her partially unbuttoned medical shirt sent signals to my growing teenage brain. The only thing bothering me was the grittiness coating my teeth, but I said nothing.

“‘Erkay,” I uttered.

“I hope you don’t intend to drive. Is your mother here? Perhaps in the waiting room?” He wondered.

“‘Ner” I grunted no. “‘Sche’s ‘behn busy. ‘Eh ‘cawed en ‘Ubah.” Unashamed, I slurped up some escaping spit. Dr. Neer saw plenty of it already.

Sharply, he inhaled a few times and I assumed it was a chuckle. He shifted his eyes to the hallway. “Excellent. Well. I’d like you back here next week. How about next Wednesday at three? There’s something…this minor area I want…I need to…fix…” he said slowly, still watching the hallway. The hand on my shoulder tightened and his floating eyes returned to me and then to my mouth. “You have an abscessed tooth. Unfortunately, there was no time today.”

I hesitated to respond and removed myself from his buddy grip. I took a step back toward the hallway, moving closer to the light. I didn't want to have to come back so soon.

“‘Eh don’t know,” I mumbled. Usually, Ma did all the appointment-making. In fact, today was my first time paying for a visit, and that was a big deal. This was her way of getting me to grow up and start doing things on my own. I fiddled in my wallet in search of my health savings card. Dr. Neer watched patiently and urged me to comply.

“Look…tell your mother it’s on the house. I prefer all my clients to leave happy with healthy smiles.” He grinned, pressing his lips together. He could sense my avoidance and went for the kill, “I need to fix it…for free!” He showcased a desperation to serve me.

While I felt forced into agreeing I couldn’t ignore the fact it was free, and I knew Ma would appreciate that. I looked at the professional’s mouth, and the cracky, pursed lips widened some more. He’s the professional, I thought, and as a bonus, it would help with my girl troubles at school. Maybe a pristine smile would be my ticket to a date with Cynthia.

“‘Ehkay,” I said. Dr. Neer patted my shoulder and for a split second, I saw one of those jelly bean teeth emerge. I touched my jaw and went to sign out.

…

The night after my appointment I intended to tell Ma about the abscessed tooth, but she took too long to get home and I was utterly blazed to the point I fell asleep.

The week went by and slowly I forgot about my abscess entirely. On the bright side, I had also forgotten about Dr. Neer’s horrific teeth. When I signed out with the reception lady, I can’t remember exactly if I scheduled the free service, but it’s possible that somewhere in my irresponsible logic, I merely assumed the dental office knew I’d be back. It was a kind of under-the-books favor according to Dr. Neer, something he wanted to graciously take care of. The kind of thing, judging by his character, that was marked and circled on his personal calendar. Truthfully I was crazy to turn down such an offer, but I hadn’t turned it down, I simply forgot about it. It became a lost opportunity. Both our needs would go unmet; my deteriorating mouth and Dr. Neer’s peculiar urgency to “fix” me.

Without a follow-up reminder, not a phone call or email of any kind, it wasn’t until Wednesday’s school day, the same day of the appointment, that it came back to me. I was in the school cafeteria eating with Tommy and the guys when Cynthia and her friend Ally-Ann approached our lunch table.

“Hey boys.” Ally-Ann quipped to the handful of us. Everyone had shut up and began listening attentively like dogs. “Cynthia, Jess, and I want to check out the ridge. Can you go, Tommy?” Ally-Ann asked.

Letting her friend do the talking, Cynthia tapped the toe of her boot into the ground. She was looking somewhere else. Her hair was braided neatly with little black ribbons, just like it always was. I didn’t want to stare but I wanted to look interested enough. She was mindlessly playing with some yarn, making a Jacob’s Ladder between her fingers. For the longest time, I’ve had this crush on Cynthia.

The lot of us agreed Tommy was the chick magnet of the group so it was no surprise Ally-Ann approached him. There were too many of us and too few girls. It had to be a balanced occasion; so it was Tommy and a lucky two of us that would be brought along to go. Some of the other guys saw the futility of the invitation and went back to their crude conversations and grotesque chomping of chicken patties and macaroni. Tommy chatted on and slowly we were weeded out. Despite keeping quiet, I was begging to come, for one, Tommy is a good friend of mine, and two, I wanted to kiss Cynthia. The ridge was the place for hooking up and everyone knew that.

I wasn’t going to blow this opportunity, but I did very quickly when I opened my mouth. My tactic was to assume I was going.

“How about I bring a joint? Do ‘yall even smoke?” I teased.

“Ew, gross!” Ally-Ann hissed.

She was disgusted, and at first, I thought it was because I overstepped with the weed comment, but then Tommy turned to look at me and was immediately drawn to my white tee shirt. I realized I had spat blood all over myself. For a second I thought it was food, ketchup perhaps, but either way, did it matter? It was nasty. Just terribly nasty!

I saw Tommy’s face turn red, suppressing his laughter. “You dropped something,” he teased, nodding to my bloodied collar. This made Cynthia giggle.

With that, I had nothing more to add so I turned around and picked at my food in shame. My shoulders felt hot and my mouth reeked; my leaking, infected, diseased-ridden gums oozed blood and showed at the worst time imaginable.

Eventually, Tommy wrapped up the conversation with Ally-Ann and made plans to visit the ridge on Friday with Marco and Dale. Everyone was paired up. Marco would likely be the one with Cynthia since I saw he was looking at her. Worse yet, she was looking at him. She had been the whole time. Staring at my mashed potatoes, I imagined their hands, tangled in yarn, and their tongues reversely magnetized, pressing, repulsing off one another in a contorting fit.

“Fuck me,” I mouthed and swished my iron-tasting teeth with chocolate milk. I spat onto the floor without a single care for the mess.

...

For the rest of the day, all I could think about was how much of an unhygienic freak I was. The final bell rang and Tommy and I were headed to the student lot. Despite my obvious brooding, Tommy walked with me.

“Ally-Ann is so fine, man. Funny how just yesterday we were talking about her and those chicks,” Tommy said, referring to a stoned conversation. We often talked about girls when we got high, as well as our other dreams. Mine felt crushed.

“You’re one lucky duck,” I said with sarcasm, dragging my feet. “Marco and Dale too. Now never bring it up again.” I was in no mood to entertain my friend.

“Don’t be mad you weren't invited. There’ll be a next time dude, I can promise. I’ll make sure this goes well,” Tommy said. My good friend pitied me. I knew he liked Ally-Ann and he knew I liked Cynthia. I wanted to sucker-punch that idiot Marco.

“Sure.” I kicked a crushed soda can into the door of someone's car.

“You did that to yourself, bud. I’ll admit, I was ready to clown you right then and there. You majorly fucked that up ‘spitsey!” Tommy laughed. He stuck out his tongue and motioned a spewing gesture from his mouth.

“Shut up man. I’ve got a dentist appointment today anyway. I’ve got a condition, show some sympathy you dick.” I belted.

A “condition” was a dramatic way to say my smelly mouth leaked pus and blood, but the words “dentist appointment” left my lips naturally. It was then I remembered my abscess, and in my frustration, I vowed to make my forgotten appointment. Back in the cafeteria, I might've blown it being a sickly slob, but I wouldn’t again. If in some far-off future, Cynthia was to kiss me, I was gonna make sure it was the greatest kiss of her life. Clean and fresh.

I realized it was almost three but I still had a chance at redemption.

“Can you take me?” I asked him. Tommy nodded but continued making the spitting gesture. It was hilarious to him. “I’m supposed to be flossing,” I added.

We piled into his ‘Subie and kindly enough, he dropped me off at Dr. Neer’s dental practice.

...

After I checked in, I sat relatively out of view, tilting my chair back against the waiting room wall. Post-grunge garbage played gently over an invisible set of speakers. The fish tank in the corner bubbled but I couldn't find any fish to stare at. An older man sat near me, gently nodding his head to the apathetic vocals, and flicking through the pages of a housekeeping magazine. I was eager to get my abscess treated so much so it was beginning to drive me nuts.

A patient from the back had waddled out, a little girl with a tear-streaked face. The older man stood up and went to the crying girl. She embraced her father’s leg and hugged it tightly, using him to separate herself from the dentist who was trailing behind her. Fading in, Dr. Neer had his hands in his pockets and was sucking back a smile. The father exchanged some words with the dentist and moved over to the receptionist's desk to finish up.

Dr. Neer appeared to be watching him, or maybe the little girl, but I noticed he was really watching me, picking me out from the corner chair. We exchanged eyes and I figured he’d greet me with enthusiasm as eager as he was to have me back, but instead, he acted avoidant. He kept his eye turned but faced forward. I kept looking at him, waiting for him to show me any kind of recognition. Finally, his pupils shifted forward and his shoulders dropped. A strange elation seemed to escape him. Carefully his eyes closed, he turned, and crept back to the dental rooms. I felt my skin crawl. His distant prying, the way he shuddered, and how he lumbered away was unnerving. It was like he acted as if I wasn't even there. Or at least tried to.

Dr. Neer was weird, but this was unsettling. My throat tightened. Something deep within me reconciled with the fact that it wasn’t because he was acting withdrawn - it was his teeth. For a week, like my follow-up appointment, those teeth too had slipped my mind, but now they presented themselves in the forefront of my mind on blast. I was whole-heartedly creeped out.

Not one minute later the receptionist called my name. The anxious feeling that overcame me in the waiting room was hard to shake off, so I imagined my abscess being taken care of in minutes. I felt helplessly unprepared to catch that decayed smile. Walking past the fish tank I noticed a fish was jammed in the tank’s filter. Nobody in the office bothered removing it. It lay there, its body thrashing around in the mass of bubbles.

The pretty assistant from last time showed me back.

“Right this way,” she said.

Seeing the assistant reassured me of things. Her blonde hair was pinned up and she clutched a clipboard under her arm. She looked ready to work. Holding my own, I kicked the fear aside and focused on the opposite: Cynthia with her dainty lips and platinum smile. Prioritizing my needs helped curb the unease. I needed my mouth taken care of.

…

Along our march, I ran my fingers along the yellow walls. I noticed all of the patient rooms were empty. Usually, they sat me in one of the curtained-off cubicles, instead, we passed them and moved further toward the back of the building. At the time, it’s possible I was too focused on keeping my cool that it never occurred to me how odd these circumstances were. Instead of a cubicle, I was led to a walled-off area with a windowless, steel door. The assistant unhooked some keys from her waist and unlocked it, letting us into the closed-off room.

Inside this room sat two dentist chairs. It was strange and I could only imagine the extra one was put there for storage's sake. This was a storage room, of course. I sat down on the edge of the chair closest to her and took in the surroundings. It helped to scour the room. It kept my mind off Dr. Neer’s teeth. There were boxes stacked in the corner and a couple of sinks, one filled with water. So this is where they disinfect the equipment. The overhead light twitched and occasionally cut out for a noticeable period.

“Go ahead and get comfortable,” she said and closed the door behind us. She rattled away on the keyboard, stopping briefly to check her cell phone here and there.

So I did and scooted myself back onto the chair until I was propped up. She typed some more information into the computer, then abruptly moved to me, dropping the chair and reclining the headrest until I was lying flat. Then she went over to the empty chair next to me and did the same thing. At the time I didn’t even notice her doing that. I placed my hands on my chest, neatly folded, and waited for something to happen. I tried flirting, some practice couldn't hurt.

“So…do you listen to the stuff they play in the waiting room or-” But I stopped. I could hear someone approaching from outside and it grew louder.

The steel door swung open violently and someone entered in a rush. I tilted my head up and looked toward my feet, but the warm palm of the assistant pressed my forehead back, holding me down tightly as if I wasn’t supposed to see.

However, I did catch a tiny glimpse.

What I caught was my dentist, the man who usually wore a white coat and flashlight on his head, sporting nothing but a hospital gown. It was Neer and I’ll address him informally as he was no dentist in this instance. He was like me, a patient. He locked the door and shifted from the doorway to the second chair without hesitation. I could hear he was breathing heavily and it was painstakingly clear from what I saw he was in no way, shape, or form here to work. He shuffled around in the neighboring chair, getting situated with the occasional grunt or groan, but aside from that, he kept silent. My head was fixed forward but I tried to jerk a better look.

“Please don’t move!” The assistant said pleasantly, holding my skull tighter.

“Excuse me, who is that?” I lied, I knew who it was. “What’s going on here?”

I tried to reason with it all, maybe this was more practice for the assistant, and that, maybe she’d be the one doing the procedure today, but I could sense that wasn't entirely right. Something felt very wrong and catching a glimpse at Neer proved it.

“What is he doing next to me?” I cried. I could smell something foul.

I tried to get up, but she moved the hand holding my head back firmly against my chest, binding my arms. She was terrifyingly strong and had no problem in restricting me. Before it occurred to me I was being trapped, she took a syringe and stuck it into my jaw, through my cheek, and deep into my lower gums. I squealed, and with my head free to move, I twisted it toward the other chair only to see Neer staring right at me, with his jack-o'lantern smile, withered and black stretched ear to ear across his face. He was lying down on his side watching my mania unfold. He took his hands and pulled his pale cheeks further outward, exposing his corroded set of fangs. He wriggled his tongue around, coating his teeth with goopy saliva, giggling devilishly like he was getting off to this.

She ripped my head back to face the ceiling and held it there. I started screaming but it was to no avail. The steel door no doubt silenced the sound to anyone in the waiting room. By chance anyone did catch my screams, it likely went unnoticed. I was no different than that crying little girl. I was simply a child throwing a fit. My thrashing eased as whatever she stuck me with induced paralysis. Unfortunately, it was no anesthetic and wasn't numbing anything at all.

I begged her, “Please…what are you doing…what are you doing?”

I churned the words over and over, repeating the same thing until I couldn't make the words anymore. Then I couldn't even move my mouth. The fluttering overhead light burned deeply into my eyes but I kept squinting, watching the assistant shuffle around, coming to and fro my chair and Neer’s. She pulled my jaw apart, wider than I’ve ever had it.

I could hear Neer instructing her.

“Once the patient presents ample room, begin by making the incision below the designated tooth, the lower you go, the easier it becomes to extract,” Neer said monotonously from the other chair.

“Yes doctor.” She replied.

Extract? Indeed, she was being walked through some sort of sick training. Yet there was no practice in the matter. Surely she was going to take out the bacteria-ridden tooth. Numb me! Please! I kept trying to pretend this was a standard abscess treatment. She was doing the procedure! That’s why it’s free! Of course! I’m the guinea pig after all! As I was lying to myself, I couldn't ignore the obvious: Why was Neer in the chair next to me? My brain flip-flopped, trying to trust the assistant and trying to understand what the fuck was happening. No, no, this wasn’t the case. Whatever was going on was something far different than treatment or training. Where was the laughing gas, God where was it? My heart jackhammered inside my chest. Even with my mouth in a locked gape, I couldn't breathe a steady breath.

“Familiarize yourself with the scalpel. Feel how the blade glides. Adjust the pressure,” Neer said. Sharply he sucked back air. He was delighted by this.

“I see, doctor.”

There was no way to prevent her from slicing into my gums. Everything was locked up, my body acting like a plastic doll. I couldn’t muster up any words, only whimpers. I had to let it happen. Tears rolled out from my eyes as she yanked my yapper wider apart. She hid behind a surgical mask but I could make out the curls of her cheeks and the flare of her nostrils. Wielding the blade above me, she too was loving every bit of this.

It was barbaric. She tore around my mouth in a sadistic fury. I could feel the warm blood pool out with every jerk. Periodically she used the suction to relieve me, but I was drowning in my juices. She wasn’t careful or delicate, and it was clear she had no idea what she was doing. She aggressively dug near my precious tooth, pulling out the tissue and making an utter mess of things. I groaned as loud as I could but when she pushed my head to the side for a better angle, I produced a sound similar to a dying cow. Now I could see Neer again, lying on the chair watching and caressing his teeth, drifting from tooth to tooth, fondling every orifice of his disgusting gob. When we met eyes he stuck out a blackened tongue, and began to taunt and wiggle it around in furious glee.

I closed my eyes and it seemed to aggravate him.

“Hurry up!” Neer barked. His tone was increasingly impatient.

“The roots run deep…but I think I'm there.” She said.

“Well move on! I can’t wait any longer!” Neer howled in agony.

The assistant pulled my head back. My mouth was twitching involuntarily, my breathing was short and labored. The knife was swapped for something that resembled pliers.

“Secure the forceps around the molar…the tighter you have it, the better!” Neer moaned.

“Yes, doctor.”

I watched helplessly as she lowered the hunk of iron into my mouth, pinching my tooth and securing it tightly. The assistant began to yank it around as if she were removing a nail from a wall. Every time she yanked, the pain dulled, and then increased the next go around. Despite my gums being horribly disfigured, my tooth would not budge from its socket.

Just when she was about to grab the knife again, Neer stopped her. “No stop! It’s ready…I know it's ready.” He proclaimed. “Try again. Stop twisting. Pull!”

“I had been!” The assistant whined to the psychopath. She seemed frustrated that this was going harder than she thought. I lay there producing a recurring bleating.

“Pull dammit!” Neer yelled and something off to the side crashed to the ground. “Hurry up, he's gonna pass out! It won’t be the same then! It won't do! It won't!”

“Okay! Okay!” The assistant flustered, took the bloody pliers, and dove in again.

To endure such torture I tried to put my mind somewhere else. I tried thinking about the ridge, imagining I was there with Cynthia, kissing her gently and holding her hand. The stars above the pines appear as little Christmas lights and there I’m able to point out the formations as she shows me the ones in string. I’m smiling at her and she could smile back. Her yarn tied around my pointer finger to hers. In this dream, I’m attractive to her.

The darkness was closing in around my strained eyes. Neer was right, I was ready to pass out, but for some God-forsaken reason, I hadn’t yet. With both hands, now gloveless for better grip, the assistant secured my tooth and started pulling back, literally leaning backward for it to give.

But my tooth did not give. Instead, it shattered into a million pieces, sending shreds of enamel and spoiled pulp everywhere. It felt like a shotgun blast in my mouth.

“‘UGHNNNN!” I bellowed.

“NO!” Neer screamed.

The assistant had fallen to the ground in her effort. That was when I heard Neer get up and move to see the damage. He was distraught and beside himself, his arms above his head and crying with me. He searched into my trembling mouth and slammed his hand down on the cart containing the instruments of horror.

“You fool!” He screamed and smacked the girl who was finding her feet again. She fell back down. “No! No! It’s ruined! You ruined everything, idiot girl!”

He stood above me. His lips disappeared as he enunciated every word, screaming, and pushing each tooth out from his face. He was all teeth. I could see his canines flipping and wriggling around in the pockets of his gray gums. I even saw one pop out of place, and fly into the corner of the room. Little black pieces of flesh erupted as he barked and swore at the assistant. He was a mess, coughing and spitting on the ground.

“It’s gone everywhere! I trained you to be careful!” Neer screamed. “You’ve tarnished my treasure! TARNISHED! Tarnished, tarnished…” Neer fell into a mumble.

“Yes but doctor, I only did what you told me! The tighter the better you said! It wouldn’t budge,” the assistant cried from below.

The dentist exploded. “You were too tight! Now it’s wasted! A WASTE!” He yelled, darting his head around, scoping the scene for spared fragments.

I lay there experiencing a gradual tinnitus. In a fit, Neer scrambled for the pieces, digging his sweaty fingers in my mouth, picking out what he could find, and taking each crumb in hand.

“This can’t be all of it! Did some escape? Find what did! Look on the floor!” Neer howled.

Then he rattled the salvaged pieces around in his hand, tilted his head back, and dumped them into his mouth, savoring, and relishing in every bit of the experience. “OOOOHHHH,” he quivered, his hyper breathing rattled. “NOT GOOD ENOUGH!”

Sucking on the scraps, Neer dropped to the ground and began frantically searching for leftovers with her. He was starving. Neer loved teeth, that was true, but he was disturbed and infatuated with the rotten ones. He wanted them in his mouth. He wanted them where they belonged.

“What do we do about…him?” The assistant peeped. “I think he’ll report you.”

It was then Neer eased up. He was a professional and had to act like one after all. He stood up and wiped his hands on his gown. By this point, I was barely conscious and cared very little for whatever was next. I was incapable of doing anything, all I could do was gargle blood.

“What a terrible thing…this is most upsetting,” Neer commented, much like he would while inspecting my teeth during a cleaning. “Either way…I suppose…we do what we do for all of them…this one gets a treat… an UNFAIR one…but…I suppose…”

…

He began moving fast like the time depended on it. My eyes drifted and while I wish I passed out I don’t believe I did. All I can remember is bits and pieces during the rest of the visit. I remember more destruction of my mouth, although nothing in comparison to the assistant's efforts. He was Dr. Neer again, and in that, his twisted perversion was repressed to a significant degree. The assistant went on to perform her responsibilities as well, though with a different look in her eye - a look of failure. There's a good chance I was finally given anesthetic as for the rest of the procedure I felt nothing. There were lots of sounds and lots of careful adjustments.

I can’t remember how long it took, but by the time I could finally move my mouth again, I was outside the building. Someone was helping me walk but now I was able to stand. My vision and brain were still obscured but my feet were moving, and everything I had was fully capable of motion. Never did I want to lash out, run or scream. I was tired and alive. I didn’t care about anything then. Call me crazy but all I wanted to do was to smoke.

They put me in the backseat of a car. The ride home was hazy but I was with the assistant, I know because while driving she played the same song from the reception lobby, the post-grunge crap I had half-questioned her about before my torture. She dropped me off a few houses down from mine with an informative pamphlet wedged in my pocket.

I don’t remember what time it was, but Ma was home, awake even. Though I didn’t see her. I didn’t even bother to smoke. I remember going straight to bed. I only wanted to sleep.

…

I had gone to Hell and come back a different man. Sometimes I think I died in that room. But I didn’t. To some miracle, I hadn't.

For the days that followed, I feared what I experienced wasn’t over; but everything followed pretty normally. I skipped school on Thursday and Friday while my mouth healed and eventually, it stopped being sore altogether. I stayed inside those days, ripping blunts, listening to music, and eating Rocky Road. For the first few nights before bed, there were times I wondered if I would have nightmares or wake up back in that chair frozen stiff. At one point I worried that Ma had arranged for me to return to Dr. Neer’s office for some ordered visit, possibly at his request. But Ma never bothered me about the dentist again. After handling it on my own, it became my responsibility. If I wanted to go to the dentist or doctor or book a plane ticket or anything like that it was up to me. It became my choice as an adult whether I'd ever do any of those things.

Monday came around and I went back to school. Tommy told me the ridge outing was a bust. He said Dale got some from Jess, but Marco only got cold feet around Cynthia. Somehow things worked out in my favor.

The two of us skipped class and sat outside the gymnasium to talk about it.

“I don’t know if I like Ally-Ann anymore,” Tommy said.

“Why?” I chuckled. “You practically talk about her all the time.”

“Yeah well…” Tommy couldn't help but grin. He rubbed his neck, reminiscing. “She’s got bad breath dude. That night at the ridge I offered her a mint and she got mad at me. Then she made me drive everyone home.”

Tommy explained to me that the whole thing was really awkward and that Marco was no better at making Cynthia comfortable, not because he was rude to her but because he was “too chicken” to make a move. Apparently, she was the first to want to go home that night.

“So you might have a shot after all, but this is ALL you now,” Tommy said. “I want no part of those girls anymore.” Tommy picked at the hole in his jeans.

I kicked my legs out and put my arms behind my head. Then I smiled.

“Hey Tommy. That’s fine by me. That is fine by me.” I said, cheesing.

My teeth were filed down, and covering the nubs were veneers. Perfect, matte white, movie star veneers. They had a satisfying weight to them too. I didn’t have to explain myself or how I got them, but he noticed them and he knew they were there. In fact, I’ve never had to talk about it.

The whole day Tommy spoke to me with intrigue, not about the teeth, but with a general, jealous fascination for my thoughts. Suddenly I was just as important as him and he knew it too.

My new teeth were a gift from Dr. Neer and it was all thanks to a rotten tooth. I couldn't be mad about that. Plus it was free.