Ain't I a Nice Guy?

"Give it to me! Give it to me NOW!"

I didn't want to scream, but he left me no choice. I tried nice, even said please, pretty please with sugar, a cherry and everything. Tiny is an obstinate bastard. Actually I don't know what his name is, but I've been calling him Tiny for the last two hours. He's fat, it's funny, like calling a bald guy 'curly' or a short guy 'legs'. I love the classics.

"Tiny, if you don't give me what I want it's gonna go bad for you. Real bad. Didn't I buy you a cheeseburger? Didn't I make sure you had a vanilla shake to dip your fries in? Didn't I super-size it, just for you?" No response; just more blubbering, tears and snot. His fat jiggles up and down. Disgusting. Time to take out another tooth...a molar this time, way back there. I have to brace my foot on the chair and use two hands on the pliers, but eventually it comes out with a slushy, sucking sound I can hear over Tiny's screams. Stupid fatty.

I drop the tooth in the sterilized stainless steel bowl filled with alcohol. It joins the two others with a tinny plop and thunk, the blood forming intersting whorls and strings. Can you read the future in there, like a Gypsy reading tea leaves? I stare at it while Tiny makes sad, fat sounds, weeping, gasping, drooling. Blecch! I figure I'll try nice one more time and pull up a chair next to my guest.

"Tiny? Listen." He starts to say something. "No no, don't try to talk yet. Just listen pal. You know what I want. I know you know what I want, and I don't want your teeth. At least not any more of them. If you don't give it to me I'll start taking other bits. Bits you care about. Bits you need. Now, are you ready?"

He nods his head, chins and jowls bouncing like jell-o, blood and spit on his lips, dripping down through his beard and soaking into his cheap flannel shirt. His sniffles die down and his heavy breathing slows a bit. I lean in to listen.

"You...are a ...sick... fuck." He takes his time, breathing between his words, voice dentist-slurred from the missing teeth, angry fear in his piggy eyes. "Let me out of here! I'll fuckin' kill you!" He lurches forward, chair screeching on the floor, straining against the rough rope bonds. I move back and sigh.

"Ah...Tiny. I had such high hopes." I punch him near the heart and he sucks in a wet breath.

Time for the saw.


M. PotPie