Black Friday: An Elders Keep Collection Special Edition

by Jeffery X Martin

  When his eyes adjusted, Larry noticed some soft blue light coming from near the baseboard. As he looked around, he also noticed there were plastic glow in the dark stars all over the walls. It did feel less like the standard dentist’s office, but Larry didn’t much relish getting his teeth worked on in the equivalent of a little girl’s bedroom. He silently hoped there weren’t little pony figurines in the doctor’s lab coat pockets.

  Time dragged on, or maybe it didn’t. Larry had locked his cell phone is his car. There was no way to tell how long he’d been in there, listening to sweet synth-pop and watching the stars glow. He was starting to think he could pick out the constellations. If that was the North Star on the ceiling, like he believed it to be, then that really was the Big Dipper over there on the wall. That was kind of impressive. He probably learned that in some Northern liberal dental arts school.

  When Doctor Mike opened the door, flooding the room with bright light from the hallway, Larry flinched, snapping his teeth together. Strobe lights went off behind Larry’s eyes as sparks of pain started a rave inside his cerebral cortex. Neurons started pogoing on synapses and Larry reflexively threw his hands in the air and waved them like he just didn’t care. When there was a break in the pain-dance, Larry opened his eyes and brought his hands back to his lap. It took him a moment to be able to focus, but when he did, his field of vision was completely obscured by the friendly bearded face of Doctor Mike.

  "Hello, Mr. Ford," he said. "I’m Doctor Michael Carlito. Everyone calls me Doctor Mike. I understand you’re a bit of an emergency case."

  Larry’s brow furrowed and his cheeks grew a little red. "You’re good and goddamned right, this is an emergency. What the hell kind of an office is this? Your nurse lady poked that hook around in my mouth like she was like she was looking for the Lost Ark, there’s nothing to read in the waiting room but the worst kind of liberal garbage and what’s with this fucking room, Doc? Who does this to a room? Are we going to drop acid and listen to old Styx albums next? This is outrageous!"

  Doctor Mike smirked in a way that infuriated Larry even more. "I guess we can forgo shaking hands."

  Doctor Mike walked over to the lightbox on the wall and jammed Larry’s X-rays up into the clamps. The fluorescent lights flickered for a bit before staying on. There were Larry’s teeth, in all of their naked glory, for both of them to see.

  "As you can see, Mr. Ford," Doctor Mike said, "you have an impacted wisdom tooth on the lower right side of your jaw. It’s come out of your jaw at a strange angle and is actually pushing against your permanent back teeth. If it continues to grow at this angle, it’s going to cause some serious damage to those teeth. Shifting and such. I’m going to suggest that we take it out."

  "Can you do it?" Larry asked.

  "I can," Doctor Mike said, "but I shouldn’t. I’m not an oral surgeon."

  "Aw, for Christ’s sake, are you going to refer me?" Larry sat up a little in the dentist’s chair. "Is this some kind of government thing that makes you bounce people back and forth, like some kind of human pinball, getting a referral here, a punch-card there, a bar code tattoo somewhere else?"

  "Settle down, Mr. Ford," Doctor Mike said. "We can work this out. We’re reasonable men, aren’t we?"

  Larry grumbled under his breath, but did not respond.

  Doctor Mike sat down on the stool and leaned in towards Larry. "I understand you’re a cash customer. If we were dealing with insurance companies, I would have to follow all the procedures they demand and go through some kind of system. I don’t have to do that if you’re paying cash."

  Larry smiled as much as he could. "Continue," he said.

  "I’ll anesthetize you. All the way out, not just a local. Then I’ll cut the tooth out. You’ll wake up and that will be it."

  "Yeah?" Larry asked. "How much will that run me?"

  Doctor Mike shrugged. "That depends on how difficult it is. And I have to charge for the anesthetic. You know how it goes. Overhead costs."

  "I get it," Larry said. "And this is all hush-hush, right? Under the table? Off the grid?"

  "Cash on the barrelhead, Mr. Ford. Just like the old days."

  Larry put out his hand. "Shake on it."

  Doctor Mike smiled and took Larry’s hand firmly. "Done."

  Larry settled back into the chair, smiling and relaxed. "So why are the walls painted black, Doctor Mike?"

  "Just an idea I had. I painted the walls black and I use a black light when I look at someone’s teeth. It makes any kind of food stain or debris show up bright. The black walls just help me see me clearly. That way, I can accurately bitch at someone for not flossing."

  "That’s goddamned clever," Larry chuckled. "You know, I had you figured wrong, Doctor Mike."

  The dentist was preparing a small IV. "Really?" he said absently. "How so?"

  "I don’t know," Larry said. "I thought you were going to be some shit-nosed goddamned liberal Democrat."

  "That’s interesting," Doctor Mike asked as he sat down next to Larry, needle in his hand, ready to start running it into the big blue vein on the back of Larry’s hand.

  "You know what I mean," he said. "Some doctors come out of medical school so idealistic, they quit looking at their jobs as work. They start thinking they can save the world. They go off and start helping the druggies on welfare and the niggers and even the goddamned Indians. It’s ridiculous. It’s bad business."

  "Really? Doctors are supposed to help people," Doctor Mike said. "We take an oath that swears us to precisely that."

  "Oh, fuck that oath shit," Larry growled. "Oaths don’t mean shit unless you’re a goddamned Mason. That’s worse than anything. Masons have been ruling the world for generations. They created the system we have to work under, just to keep us their slaves. It all goes back to the Illuminati. Surely, you know all this."

  "I find what you’re saying fascinating," Doctor Mike replied.

  "Well, the Illuminati control the banks and the governments and they’re trying to bring all the nations of the world under their dominion. One world government. It’s all over the dollar bill. They’ve been behind all the great wars. They’ve been secretly funding terrorist organizations to frighten us into giving up our Constitutional rights!"

  "I thought those were just theories, Mr. Ford," said the dentist. "Silly theories designed to scare people."

  "Just theories? Don’t you know about the fluoride?"

  "I’m a dentist, Mr. Ford," Doctor Mike laughed. "I know all about fluoride."

  "The fluoride in the water, man. If you use too much fluoride, it’s poisonous. And now there’s fluoride in every metropolitan water supply in the country. All an invading force would have to do would be dump all that fluoride into our drinking water and it would wipe most of us out. Just like that. And we would be easy pickings. Anyone could do it. Jews, niggers, Ay-rabs, even radical groups from inside our own country. The Democrats could do it, blame it on a terror group and those of us who survived would be Socialists within a year. Poison, Doc. All of us, poisoned!" Larry was almost panting at this point, his eyes wide with excitement.

  Doctor Mike said, "I think the worst poison is the poison that comes from mens’ mouths, because it comes from a poisoned mind." With that, he jabbed the IV into Larry’s hand. "I want you to count backwards from three, Larry."

  "Three," said Larry.

  "Two," whispered Larry.

  He never got to "one."

  Doctor Mike snapped his fingers in front of Larry’s face. He did not respond. Larry was breathing deeply and drooling slightly.

  "Can you hear me, Mr. Ford?" Doctor Mike said. "Can you hear me, you hateful fat fuck?"

  Again, Larry did not respond.

  Doctor Mike put on his surgical mask, propped open Larry’s mouth, inserted the suction hose and began to cut.

  ***

  THE CHAIR WAS large and soft and Larry was floating in it, gently drifting through a strange place of purple swirls, pinwheels of light and color that turne
d into flowers that sang to him, flowers that sang "Dream Weaver," yes, "Dream Weaver" and "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft (the Klaatu version, not the shitty one by The Carpenters)." All he could do was stare and feebly wave at all the pretty things as he passed by them. One of the flowers hovered in front of his face, pulsing and expanding until it finally turned into a Spielbergian spaceship, all lights and rods and deep music. The door to the craft opened and Ronald Reagan appeared, waving and grinning as if he were addressing the cosmos. "Larry," Reagan said, "as much as I would love to stand about and talk supply-side economics and the Sandinistas with you, heh, I’m afraid it’s time for you to start waking up."

  "But I don’t want to wake up, Mr. President," Larry said. "I want to talk with you about the country, what they’ve done to your country, President Reagan!"

  Reagan shook his head, smiling, waving off Larry’s comment with his hand. "When the aliens come, Larry, they will come for your teeth. Your blood, Larry, and your teeth. All the legs in the world. Goodbye, now, Larry, and remember to vote! Always vote."

  The door closed. The starship zoomed away, taking all of space along with in its wake and then there was light, harsh yellow light, streaking in through his still drug-addled eyes and for a moment he didn’t know where he was.

  "Looks like he’s coming around," Doctor Mike said.

  "Well, sorry, Doc, but looks you lost that bonus money. Bastard’s still alive." Brenda was nonplussed and itching for a cigarette.

  "Occupational hazard," Doctor Mike said. "Patients making it through surgery and whatnot."

  Doctor Mike gently shook Larry by the shoulder. "Larry? You coming around, man?"

  Larry’s head flopped in the general direction of the dentist’s voice. He could barely open his eyes, couldn’t focus on Doctor Mike’s smiling face. "He’ll be fine," he said to Brenda while still staring at Larry. "He’ll come around in a few minutes."

  Doctor Mike walked to the desk. Regina was behind the counter, and she handed the doctor a small brown prescription bottle. Doctor Mike shook the bottle and grinned as he heard the pills rattling about inside. He handed the bottle to Brenda.

  "These are Larry’s pills," Doctor Mike said. "He’s going to want these."

  "I may need a couple for myself," Brenda said.

  "Not my jurisdiction," Doctor Mike said. "As soon as he’s aware enough, give him two of these, then another two a couple hours later. Give him soft foods, obviously. Mashed potatoes, pudding, maybe some chicken soup, but not too hot."

  "How long do I have to nursemaid him?" Brenda asked, sounding extremely put out.

  Doctor Mike smiled reassuringly. "Not long," he said. "Now I’ve got his wound packed with gauze. You shouldn’t have to change it until tonight."

  Brenda shuddered. "He can change his gauze his own damned self. It’s hard enough for me to kiss him, much less deal with his blood."

  Doctor Mike raised his hands. "Again, not my jurisdiction. However, I think it’s time I helped you load your husband in the car so you can get him home and he can relax."

  Doctor Mike swooped in and slipped one arm behind Larry’s back. "Come on, Mr. Ford. Time to convalesce at the house." He powered Larry up to his feet. While Brenda held the office door open, Doctor Mike dragged to Larry to his car and muscled him into the passenger seat.

  "Your wife already paid me, Larry," Doctor Mike said. Larry tried to nod and give some semblance of thanks and appreciation, but his mouth refused to work.

  "Don’t try to talk, sweet Larry," Doctor Mike smiled. "The pleasure has been all mine."

  Doctor Mike stretched the seat belt across Larry’s torso, strapped him in and stood in the parking lot as Brenda drove away with him. When they were out of sight, the dentist wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "What a day, what a day," he muttered to himself, and went back into the office to close up shop.

  III

  Teeth like God’s Shoeshine

  "SARAH? I'M HOME, baby," Doctor Mike called. "And I have had a day." Some days, it was just so nice to be home. Dinner was cooking, soft music was playing, familiar pictures on the walls. So much better than being cooped up in that damned office all day.

  Sarah, Doctor Mike’s wife, was a tiny thing, five feet tall at most. She had long brunette hair, an infectious smile and eyes so green, they were almost neon. She came around the corner wearing nothing but a rubber butcher’s apron, her face glowing.

  "Hi, sweetheart!" Sarah said, and she instantly wrapped her arms around Doctor Mike’s neck and began kissing him deeply. He ran his fingers through her hair, made a fist and pulled sharply. She giggled at the shock of pain and smiled up at her husband. "How was your day?"

  Doctor Mike shrugged. "I’ll tell you in a minute," he said. "I need a drink. How about you? Looks like you’ve had a productive day. How was work?"

  Sarah grinned goofily. "I had a great day at The Store," she said, her voice all sing-song. "I rang some people up, I punched through a couple of safety seals in the pharmacy and I got us a new pet."

  Doctor Mike stopped pouring his gin. "A new pet? Sarah. What did I tell you about that?"

  Her face fell. "Oh, don’t be disappointed, Mikey. I couldn’t help it. She was so cute, I had to bring her home."

  "All right," Doctor Mike sighed. "But you’re going to have to clean up after her this time. Promise?"

  Sarah smiled and hopped a little, like an excited child. "I will, Mikey, I promise. You want to see her?"

  "Sure," Doctor Mike said, and he shuffled down to the hallway into the bedroom, following Sarah.

  "What’s this one’s name?" Doctor Mike asked.

  "Her name is Amber," Sarah said, "and I was at The Store, and I had already been off for about an hour, but I was waiting outside just looking, and I saw her, and she looked so sad and alone, so I grabbed her and brought her home so promise you won’t be mad, okay?"

  "I’m not mad, Sarah. It’s fine."

  Sarah clapped her hands and opened the bedroom closet door. The woman chained to the closet bar was gagged and wild-eyed. Her mascara was running and the skin around her ankles was bleeding from where the rope had chafed it. Amber looked around wildly, as if this were her chance for escape.

  "Oh, she’s cute," Doctor Mike said, approvingly. "And she was just there in the parking lot?"

  Sarah nodded.

  "Well, no wonder you brought her home. Have you fed her?"

  Sarah frowned. "No, she won’t eat yet."

  Doctor Mike pulled the gag out of Amber’s mouth and stared at her sternly. "Mistress Sarah says you refuse to eat."

  Amber began jabbering. "Oh, please just let me go. I promise I won’t tell nobody, you just gotta let me out of here, for Christ’s sake, please get me out of here!"

  Doctor Mike slapped her across the mouth, open palmed. Amber stopped talking. "Mistress Sarah says you refuse to eat. Is that true?"

  "Are you serious?" Amber asked. "You just gotta let me go; I gotta get out of here! What are you people doing?"

  Doctor Mike punched Amber in the stomach. He relished the feel of her breath on his sweaty cheek as it was forced from her lungs. Before she could get her breath back, he shoved the gag back into her mouth. Pointing a finger in her face, he said, "You get nothing until morning. You have much to learn. And you will learn."

  He shut the closet door and turned to Sarah. "She’s a wild one, isn’t she?"

  Sarah shrugged. "She puts up a token fight. I think she’ll break pretty easily."

  "I give her a week," Doctor Mike said.

  "I bet I can do it in five days," Sarah responded.

  "It’s a bet," Doctor Mike. "If you lose, you wear the jeweled butt-plug for two days."

  "What if I win?" Sarah asked.

  Doctor Mike smirked. "If you win, you wear the jeweled butt-plug for two days."

  Sarah laughed. "That sounds like a deal. Come on. Let’s eat."

  "What’s cooking?"

  "Spaghetti," Sarah said.
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  "That sounds delicious," Doctor Mike said, and they headed towards the kitchen.

  ***

  SPAGHETTI WAS NOT on the menu in the Ford household. It was instant mashed potatoes and brown gravy for Larry, who sat in the couch, his violated jaw throbbing in agony. It hurt to move his lips, so when he talked, his voice cracked and his words were unclear.

  Brenda sat next to him, watching a reality show about zookeepers. She enjoyed seeing the animals, but felt like a person would have to be crazy to willingly clean up that much shit.

  "I don’t think these pills are working," Larry said.

  "Give it some time to kick in," Brenda said absently.

  "No, Brenda, I really don’t think these are working."

  Brenda huffed. "I know what you want, Larry, and I don’t think this is the time for a scotch."

  "My jaw feels so swollen. Goddamned dentist. I’ll sue the bastard."

  ***

  "SO WHAT DID you do today?" Sarah asked.

  "You know that guy who owns all the used car lots around here? That Larry Ford guy?"

  Sarah nodded while sucking a noodle into her mouth.

  "He came in today. Impacted wisdom tooth. He was a dick. Gave the office girls a hard time, starting talking crazy shit about Masons and the Illuminati. Just a nut. Anyway, he had one tooth that was bad, so I put him under and I removed three of his teeth. Boom, boom, boom. Three in a row."

  Sarah almost choked on her food, laughing. "You’re naughty," she said.

  "Just imagine the things I would do if I actually had a license."

  ***

  WEIRD THINGS WERE happening in Larry’s mouth. He had expected his surgery wounds to throb while the nerve endings healed, but he had never experienced anything like this. He touched his torn jaw gingerly with his tongue. He could feel the stitches and the gauze packing. Everything seemed as it should, post-op, but it was almost as if the open wound were vibrating. It was the oddest sensation.