Short Story: False Teeth

False Teeth

In this story I try to add a small element of threat. Hopefully that keeps the tension in the story, or helps it at least. I tried to use as much ‘showing’ writing as I could: the cool air, the visuals of the pink and white teeth/plate. 

Remember that bit of grass I was talking about opposite the Capel Street house? Well I was out there one morning in the crisp air doing some Tai Chi and this man came up to me.

    ‘Hey,’ he said, coming up close and moving in a jittery way. He was grinding his jaw. He had loose-fitting shorts on, sneakers and a t-shirt. ‘I’ve lost ma teeth,’ he said, smiling to reveal a large gap on the left side of his upper jaw. ‘Can’t remember where I lost ‘em,’ he said, ‘but I was here last night.’ He took his focus off me and started looking round in the grass, by the seat, around the trees. ‘They must be here somewhere,’ he said with a lisp. And, even though I was a little apprehensive, I started helping him look. It was early, about seven in the morning and the man who had lost his teeth was high on something speedy. He was talking fast and his movements were erratic. Nevertheless, I continued looking with him. We scoured that whole triangular area, looking down at the grass and the dirt by the big tree trunks. There was a breeze and we were under the cathedral-like shelter of those poplars. ‘Can’t see ‘em anywhere,’ he said.

    ‘Nah,’ I said. ‘I can’t see them either.’ 

    ‘They must be at my mate’s place,’ he said grinding his molars together. ‘They must be,’ he said, almost hopeful.

    ‘Well, we’ve looked all over,’ I said.

    ‘Yeah, thanks mate,’ he said. ‘At least we tried. And happy New Year,’ his lisp still prominent. 

After he had gone—and I watched him walk away toward Queensberry Street—I felt relieved. I abandoned my Tai Chi and went to go back inside. Then I saw them. Just at the edge of the triangle of grass, almost on the gutter. Plastic pink imitation gums, four or five false teeth and some wire, neatly bent. I was loath to pick them up. My friend with the lisp had long gone. Should I run after him? Should I pick up his teeth and catch up to him? I had no idea where he’d gone. Then I thought: he was nice to me. He was friendly, even if he was high. I bent and picked up the false teeth and put them in my pocket. I ran toward Queensberry and looked in every direction, breathing hard. I looked down Peel Street, and then I saw him walking fast toward the Carlton Gardens, on the north side of the street in the shade. I started jogging toward him. He was maybe one hundred metres away. 

    ‘Hey!’ I called. ‘Hey!’

He stopped and turned and I ran up to him. I wasn’t even sure he recognised me. He frowned. He stepped back. ‘I found your teeth,’ I said and reached into my pocket, withdrawing the pink and white false teeth with the wire neatly shaped at either end. I handed them to him.

    ‘Orr, mate,’ he said. ‘You’re a life-saver.’ He was wiping the teeth on his shirt. Then he put them in his mouth. ‘Thanks a million, mate,’ he said. The lisp was gone. He put a hand out and patted me on the arm. ‘Unreal,’ he said. Then, he turned and called out ‘Happy New Year,’ over his shoulder. He waved to me without turning. I wiped my hand on my own shirt and turned around, back to the triangle of grass. I’ll finish my Tai Chi I said to myself and made my way back to the space under those big trees that reminded me of some sort of natural cathedral like I said before.