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Tanya’s teeth, as decayed as they had become, were far better than her husband’s. Phil, since the age of eleven, had been brushing his teeth with artificial whipped topping from an aerosol can. For mouthwash he used orange soda, and for floss, an extension cord (his teeth were spaced very far apart). Phil, you see, hated his teeth and was sabotaging them so he could get dentures. His insurance wouldn’t cover the oral surgery involved unless he could prove the operation was necessary, and all dentists he consulted concluded that despite their brown crookedness, his teeth were remarkably durable and adequately functional. Frustrated, Phil moved to an eight times a day brushing routine on which he set a five month deadline to be approved for oral surgery. If declined again after the five months, he would start flossing with a hammer.
Phil longed to have straight, large, blindingly white teeth. He didn’t even care if they looked fake. In fact, he preferred it. Phil was a hardcore comic book reader, and he had always liked the way teeth looked when drawn as one solid white piece. That is, one solid white piece on the top, and another solid piece on the bottom. He confessed this strange fetish to the dental assistant at the very last clinic he intended to visit before resorting to the hammer. Though the dentist would not confirm Phil’s surgery as being necessary, he did hook him up with a pair of standard, white mouth guards. Placed over his ugly, crooked teeth, it really did appear – especially from a distance – that Phil had that cartoony, one-tooth look he was going for.
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