“Bullocks!” Jill said. “We’re doomed now! What do we do?”
“We fight back!”
But before they could, all the little demon kids converged at them at once, from every single direction, and they started screaming, their screams echoing throughout the dark chamber. It became suffocating. Soon, their cries were muffled out by all those little children.
THE END.
FRIES WITH THAT? by David J. Gibbs
“You really need to floss better James. There’s a lot of plaque buildup beneath your gum line,” Kelly said quietly, leaning over the chair, her stiff white uniform crinkling slightly with the movement.
She traded one scraping tool for another with a slanted head on it and continued to dig away on his teeth. James hated coming to the dentist. He always had. It had started somewhere in his childhood and had quietly followed him into early adulthood. The only saving grace was that he only had to go once a year.
His kid brother, Charlie, had never thought it fair that James had the clean checkups from the dentist while they were growing up. After all, James never flossed and occasionally, wouldn’t brush his teeth for a couple of days, while Charlie was fanatical about it. And even though his brother was constantly flossing and brushing, he averaged a cavity every other year. To Charlie, that was an injustice of epic proportions. To him, it was just something else he did better than Charlie.
“Just a little longer here,” Kelly said, scraping away with yet another shiny metal tool.
It moved his jaw with each stroke, sending a disorienting vibration through his head. It felt like his skull was alive with movement with each practice flick of her wrist. His gums ached, as she kept scraping. He wondered if the hygienists felt the same things, when they had their teeth cleaned.
“Okay, James that does it. We’re finished for now. I’ll get Dr. Hennessy,” Kelly said, putting her cleaning picks down on the tray and pulling off the blue latex gloves.
She reached up and flipped a switch, to notify the dentist that he was ready for his final inspection. The final step, before he would be set free upon the world.
“Okay,” he said, not sure what else to say.
His mouth always felt like he had rinsed with some kind of acidic antiseptic every time the cleaning was done. That’s why he brought a piece of gum with him every time. He popped that bad boy in right after he walked outside and chewed that taste out of his mouth as fast as he could.
The dentist was an odd man, small and wiry with a balding pate, and a weird, badly trimmed mustache. He also had impossibly cold hands. So, after way more time than necessary to talk about some lame sounding fishing trip, he was set free to enjoy his stick of gum.
He walked out into the parking lot, the sun a little warmer than when he went in for his appointment, and walked toward his car. James took out his cell phone and called his brother.
“’ello?”
“Charlie? Are you home?”
There was silence at the other end of the phone, which made him pull it away from his ear, to check and see if it was still connected. When he saw Charlie’s call still connected, he said, “Dumbass, are you gonna talk or what?”
“Yeah. Jesus, would you hold your horses. Was trying to swallow my burrito.”
“So you ate the last one again?” James asked.
“Working on it. So?”
“So, you do this crap all the time. The burritos were mine you idiot.”
“So you’re some kind of burrito ninja?”
“Jedi, Charlie. Jedi. I’m a Burrito Jedi.”
“Oh, well then in that case, I’m your father Burrito Jedi James,” Charlie said, in a badly attempted Darth Vader voice.
“Shut up.”
“So, are we still going to the lake when you get here?” asked Charlie.
“Yeah, I’m going to pick up something through the drive-thru first, though.”
“Gotcha.”
“Later,” he said to Charlie.
“Yeah, later.”
He drove south a few blocks and turned left on Racine, going past the psych hospital, complete with the high fence lined with barbed wire. Pulling into the Wendy’s drive-thru, he ordered a cheeseburger and fries with a large Coke, while trying to keep his tires off the curb.
James rounded the building and pulled into the spot nearest the road. He figured he’d better eat the burger and fries before going home, otherwise, Charlie would mooch off of him the entire time and there wouldn’t be anything left.
Taking the fries out first, he put a couple in his mouth and took a swig of Coke. The Coke fizzed slightly, hurting his teeth for a moment. Swallowing the fries, it felt like there was still some left in his mouth, so he swallowed again. This time however, he realized that something was moving in his mouth.
He worked his tongue along the inside of his cheek and pushed whatever was moving to the tip, spitting it out into a napkin. It was dark in color, almost black and definitely still moving. James looked at it more closely, and realized it was a small bug.
Immediately, his mind filled with all the headline horror stories about buying fast food. He remembered the one about cockroaches being found at a local Frisch’s. James also recalled that before they all closed down, there was one about Howard Johnson’s serving up spoiled sausage and several customers found tapeworms wiggling their way through their intestinal tracts. The one that made him squirm, the most however, was the one about White Castle finding maggots in the chopped onion bins. They served over three hundred burgers that night before it was noticed.
He pinched the bug, using the napkin, relishing the hard snap followed by the slightest squelch. Opening the napkin, he looked at it and frowned. Quickly, he looked into his fry sleeve. He dumped out the fries into the bottom of the white bag. He didn’t want them getting lose in his car, but he had to look. He had to know where they had come from. James looked for the bugs he knew would be there, but didn’t see any. He shook the bag several times, turning it back and forth, trying to see if anything would crawl around beneath the crisscrossed French fries, but nothing was there.
He thought about eating another fry, when he felt something else move in his mouth. This time it was beneath his tongue. This time, he spat quick and hard, and saw another black insect struggling in his spit against the white napkin. The flailing legs popped a few bubbles of spittle, as the bug struggled.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked no one, his voice sounding odd in the empty car.
This time, he didn’t bother looking in the bag. Instead, he pulled sun visor down and looked in the mirror. His tongue wagged around his mouth, so he could see into every nook and cranny. At first, he thought one of them was flatted against one of his back molars, a clear dark patch evident, but realized that was just an old filling.
It took him a moment to realize that a car had pulled up beside him and parked. The woman was looking at him as if he was insane.
And, maybe he was.
She held up her phone, a nervous look on her face. James wondered if she was going to call the cops. Who else would you call to report a crazy man in the Wendy’s parking lot? He flipped her off and smiled for a moment, enjoying her reaction. Just as quickly as she had pulled into the parking spot, she pulled out, leaving the parking lot.
Good riddance.
James turned his attention to the mirror again, his eyes again looking for the black bugs, but he didn’t see any. There weren’t any more in his mouth, but he did something else. He had food, white pieces between his lower teeth.
“You, should floss more,” he said in a whiny voice trying to mimic Kelly’s voice.
He looked over in the passenger seat and grabbed the floss that they always handed to him on the way out of the office. James smiled, he had never taken one of those damned little things with him into his house, but he supposed the dentist had to at least try to encourage good dental health.
Opening the floss, it rattled in his hands. As he tugged on the floss, he co
uld hear the little wheel banging around inside the small plastic container. Finally, he snapped off the length of floss. Wrapping it around his fingers, he began to work it between his teeth. It didn’t take him very long. Few seconds later, he sucked through his teeth and then spit the bits out into yet another napkin.
That’s when he realized that they weren’t tiny bits of food, but maggoty bits of broken larvae. They writhed, the small sections searching for purchase on something.
“Oh my God,” he said quietly, feeling more things moving inside his cheek.
Picking up his phone, he called Charlie.
“’ello?”
“Charlie?” James asked.
“James? What the hell do you want now?”
“Shut up. Look I’m in trouble.”
“You hit somebody again. I swear that car gonna look like one of those demolition derby beater cars.”
“Not the damn car,” he said, spitting out more of the white bits.
As he looked over to the seat, he realized that the white bits from the napkins were splitting open. He didn’t understand why at first, but then he saw the tiny black bugs work their way out of maggot sleeves. They were struggling free in the folded napkin.
“Then what the fuck are you calling me for? I’m trying to watch some porn for Christ sakes.”
“Would you give the hand a rest Charlie? Something’s really wrong with me.”
“Dude you’re gonna set yourself up like that? Of course there’s shit wrong with you. There’s shit wrong with everybody.”
“Charlie so help me-.“
“That time you cut up the frog and took home the legs-,” Charlie continued.
“-I’m going to kick the crap out of you. Would you please-,” he tried.
“-and what about always blowing up Marcy, that neighbor girl’s, baby dolls? Even dad thought that-,” Charlie rambled.
“Charlie.”
“-was crazy. I mean remember those awkward conversations around the table? Yeah, he wasn’t very-.”
“Shut up Charlie. For the love of everything holy shut the hell up.”
Finally, his brother did. He spit out another half dozen of the white things, hating the way they still writhed on his tongue as he tried to get rid of them.
“Shit, my burrito is done. Gotta go,” said Charlie ending the call.
“I thought you said you ate the last one before you idiot,” he said to his phone. “Dammit.”
He started his car and slammed it into gear, backing up and almost hitting the guy driving an AEL electric company truck. Not paying attention to the hand gestures from driver, James pulled out of the lot with a squeal of tires and a little plume of bluish gray smoke.
The gears gnashed harshly on the next shift, as he let up on clutch too soon. Cursing quietly, he lowered the window and spit another few bits of white larvae at the window. Brushing two off the edge of his door, he closed the window. He shivered, not wanting to think about how many of those little boogers were in his mouth. James realized one was still clinging to his lower lip and quickly wiped his hand over his mouth several times. He short shifted into third, as he cut down the street.
He opened the toothbrush they gave him and wedged it into his mouth, turning it back and forth, trying to get rid of more of the bugs. Every so often, he pulled it out and shook it off, watching the black and white bits spilling on the floor of his car.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, short shifting into third, as he cut down his street where he and his brother both lived.
The Coke shifted in the cup holder beneath the dash, the slick squeak of Styrofoam drawing his attention. His arm shot out, hand coming off the shifter, trying to grab it. As James changed positions, his foot slipped and the skipped upward off the mat. The car lurched unexpectedly and as his fingers touched the Coke, he couldn’t quite grab it, instead watching it slip out of the cup holder. It smashed against the floor of his car in front of the passenger seat.
“Dammit!” he screamed, and a mouthful of maggots followed his words, spreading across his torso.
Coughing, he grabbed at the wheel, his foot trying to find the clutch pedal but to no avail. James tried twice, before the wheel twisted and the tires began to frantically squeal around him as the he completely lost control and careened off the road.
The telephone pole was selfish. It took the full impact of the car, crumpled metal, broken glass, and torn off bumper were all taken by the pole. James was rocked by the impact, his left arm shattered by the steering wheel. Something was wrong with his right lower leg, a burst of pain swelling with each motion.
Somewhere he heard his cell phone ringing, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Dazed, he only saw the things around him in blurry patches of color and motion. He thought he was in front of his apartment building, but wasn’t sure and then he heard his brother’s voice.
“James! James! What the hell? Are you okay?” Charlie asked, struggling to get the door open, the front of it crumpled.
James looked up dazed, bleeding from a several cuts across his scalp, and said, “I can’t get the bugs out of my mouth. I keep spitting them out and more keep coming.”
“What the hell did he say?” asked someone standing behind Charlie, people from neighboring houses and the apartment building beginning to come out and see the wreck.
“You’re not making sense,” Charlie said, still yanking on the door, trying to get it open.
James realized that something was wrong with his legs, looking down his vision still haze filled, his mind struggling to make sense of what he was looking at. His knee was almost right next to the pocket of his jeans. The clutch pedal was almost flush with the front of his seat and realized that the front of the car was badly crumpled by the impact.
Blood was dripping from somewhere underneath him, and he realized he had broken his leg, the femur shattered, the bone shoved up into his abdomen. His mouth struggled to get the bugs out of his mouth again, spitting and cursing as he kept trying.
“Charlie get them out of my mouth.”
The door finally came open, the metal creaking loudly. His cellphone tumbled to the ground along with the French fries and bag. He was still unable to move. His brother picked up his phone off the pavement as he came closer.
Charlie bent down and stuck his head in the car, looking at his mouth saying, “There’s nothing in there but blood. Looks like you broke off a few teeth. Told you, you needed to get a newer car with a damned air-bag.”
Another voice outside the car said quietly, “He’s messed up pretty bad. Doesn’t look good at all.”
“They’re still in there,” he said, but his voice was sounding further and further away to him. His arm came up to help dig them out, he feel them bunching together in his cheeks, his mouth feeling swollen and strange.
“I don’t see anything in your mouth, dude. Jesus. Just please still the paramedics are on the way.”
The sirens starting crying out, still some distance away. They followed him down into the well of blackness waiting for him, his mouth still trying to spit the tiny bits of insects out.
***
The phone kept ringing and ringing in his hand and he kept ending the call, until the paramedics got James out of the car and onto the gurney. The tried to revive him, but there was nothing they could do, the damage far too severe.
His eyes were closed, fighting back against the tears, a wall of emotion pushing upward, making it hard to breathe. Finally he had enough of the phone ringing and answered it.
“Hello!” Charlie shouted, his hand roughly passing through his long, unwashed hair.
“Mr. Kingston?”
Charlie frowned and shook his head, taking the phone away from his ear quickly, looking at the number. Wondering why someone was calling him on his brother’s phone, he put it back up to his ear again.
“Who is this?”
“This is Dr. Daniels’s office calling. You were just in our office for
a routine cleaning. I’m so glad we caught you.” Charlie was reeling from what he had just seen, his heart still pounding, his mind still filled with visions of his brother mangled in the front seat of his car. He hadn’t understood anything James had been trying to say.
“I’m afraid one of our hygienists used a new type of fluoride that apparently some patients have had bad reactions to. We were calling to ask if you were having any adverse effects from it?”
“Adverse effects?” he asked a little bewildered, watching as a tow truck pulled up behind the remains of his brother’s car.
“Yes. Some patients have had hot flashes and some have had rashes across the backs of their hands.
He remembered what his brother had told him repeatedly on the phone.
“What about hallucinations?”
“Well, in very rare cases, yes.”
Charlie closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face a few times quickly. This couldn’t be happening.
“So, seeing things?”
“Yes sir. We recommend you come in as soon as possible.”
“You’re talking about my brother,” Charlie said, his tone clipped, his words peppered with anger.
“I’m sorry, sir?”
“This his brother, Charlie.”
“Oh, I see. I’m sorry. Is Mr.-,” the secretary tried.
“No he’s not. He’s not here anymore you idiot. He was complaining something about bugs in his mouth and filling his cheeks on his way home. James had an accident. He’s dead you jack ass!” Charlie yelled at the phone, this time his emotions turning to rage.
“Sir, we are so-,”
“Sorry? Screw your sorry and screw you. He kept talking about the bugs in his mouth and all over his car and I thought he was crazy. I thought he had lost his damn mind. But, instead, I find that it’s because of you and your fluoride crap. I’m going to sue the living crap out of you. You know that?”
9 Tales Told in the Dark 15 Page 10