A Visit From The Tooth Fairy

Benny Radburn was eight and three quarters and still had all of his milk teeth, or baby teeth, as his dad called them, much to Benny’s dismay. They sat in his mouth, neatly lined up like toy soldiers, firm and unmoving in the trenches of his gums.
His best friend Terrence had lost his sixth milk tooth three months ago. Terrence also had the new Lego 1989 Batwing and a pellet gun that fired for real. Benny wanted the Batwing and the gun, but most of all he wanted to lose his teeth.
He had watched as his friends came into school with wobbling loose teeth, or wide gaps in their smiles, sometimes as many as three or four at one time. Then their front teeth grew in, as big and as square as the pieces of chewing gum his dad worked through now instead of his cigarettes. Benny was jealous. He was especially jealous of Terrence who was told he would probably need braces in a few years’ time. Braces seemed very grown-up.

Every evening after brushing his teeth, Benny would grip either side of his mouth and pull until it hurt, inspecting his stubborn baby teeth. They looked like little pearls, evenly spaced in the wet mollusc of his mouth. In class, his tongue would probe impatiently along each tooth, testing for weakness, signs of a wobble. He even prayed before bed, clasping his palms tight, eyes squeezed shut. Please take my teeth. I promise to do my chores. Also, if you could please send Mum back, too. Thank you, God. Amen.
Benny had also tried to get away with not brushing, but his dad found out he was just wetting the toothbrush and putting it back in the holder. He made Benny breathe into his face each night, so he could smell if he had been lying. Benny was alarmed that his dad could sniff out lies like that. He wondered if lies smelled bad.
The dentist had told his dad that Benny had amazingly healthy teeth and that he clearly took good care of them. Benny scowled at the praise, but accepted the sticker the dentist gave him, because his dad told him to always be polite, even though he was eight and three quarters and too old for stickers. It was a grinning cartoon premolar holding a pink toothbrush. He binned it as soon as they got home, blinking back tears.

Benny was beginning to accept that it would never happen, that he would always have a mouthful of milk teeth and always be a baby. He stopped yanking at his mouth in the mirror and he stopped asking God to take his teeth when he prayed, although he kept asking for his mum. Quietly though, because eight-and-three-quarter-year-old boys aren’t supposed to miss their mums.
And just as hope was slowly leaving him, just as his fate as an overgrown baby for life seemed sealed, Benny’s front left tooth began to wobble.

He hadn’t noticed it at first. He was eating a tuna sandwich in the canteen, listening to Terrence go on and on about his new turtle and his upcoming trip to Florida. He usually ignored Terrence when he went on like this. Benny didn’t have any pets and his last proper holiday was to a caravan site in Stirling. He frowned as he bit into his sandwich and felt a sliding, a distinct wrongness in his mouth. He pulled apart his sandwich, inspecting its contents, flipping the slices of cucumber and pulling out the wet slippery tomatoes. He couldn’t see anything wrong with it. Suspiciously he reassembled his lunch and took another bite. Again he felt a strange pressure, a movement. He swallowed and probed his mouth with his tongue. There, right there! He could push his front tooth ever so slightly forward. It was only a little movement, but it was definitely loose. His heart leapt and he turned to Terrence. “Look!”
He wiggled his tooth with as much force as his tongue could exert. Terrence shrugged.
“So what?”
Benny ignored him, wiggling his tooth and beaming.

When he got home from school, he showed his dad. His dad looked up from his paper and smiled absently. “Oh, very good. We’ll have to see what the tooth fairy brings you.” Benny smiled politely. He knew the tooth fairy wasn’t real. It was OK for little kids to believe, but Benny was eight and three quarters now. Besides Terrence said he woke up when his mum was slipping a five pound note under his pillow. Benny wondered what she did with all of Terrence’s teeth. She probably kept them in a little cup and rattled them like dice. Terrence’s mum was always trying to get them to play board games like Monopoly and Frustration.
Benny wished his mum would come back to collect his teeth, but he didn’t say that to his dad. He didn’t want to make him sad. He also knew he wouldn’t get as much as a five pound note. They weren’t poor, but they also couldn’t afford to fix their dishwasher until his dad got paid.

For the next week, Benny pushed insistently at his tooth. It was strange feeling it wiggle. On Friday night he could push it almost horizontal, nudging against his lip, and yet it still clung on. It began to hurt a little and sometimes he could taste the metal tang of blood. He couldn’t wait for it to fall out, but when his dad suggested he tied a string from his tooth to the door knob and yanked it out by slamming the door, Benny’s eyes grew as wide and round as coins.
“Just kidding,” his dad said hastily, “It will come out on its own.”
He was right, it did.
On Saturday Benny was playing in a football match. He was in goal and he made a spectacular save, according to his coach, although really the ball had slipped between his gloves and lodged in his stomach. Benny was a bit sweaty and winded, but he didn’t care. For when the football hit him, he felt his tooth fly out of his mouth.
He scrabbled on the grass after he threw the ball out to another player. Breathing a sigh of relief, he ripped off his gloves and picked up his tooth. It was sitting in the dirt, a little bloody. He picked it up and ran to give it to his dad for safekeeping. At half-time his dad exclaimed, “Wow, you’re lucky you didn’t swallow it!” Benny imagined having a tooth in his tummy, its roots growing and snaking down and then fossilising, like a hard, heavy stone.
“Yeah, I am,” he agreed, with a sigh of relief.

That night, after Benny had brushed his teeth and admired his hard, taut gum in the mirror, he padded through to his bedroom. He held his tooth tenderly in his fist. He inspected it once more – the way it was hollowed out at the base, the shape of it, just like a popcorn kernel, the slight faded dip of dried blood. He was a little disappointed he was about to lose it, but he dropped it into the empty envelope his dad had given him and tucked it dutifully under the pillow. He lay back and thought about what sweeties he might buy with his pound, waiting for his dad to come and tuck him in, like he did every night since Mum left. Maybe he’d get some sugar mice from the tuck shop or strawberry laces. He nestled further into the pillow, hearing the paper sift under his head. He poked his tongue through the gap in his teeth and beamed.
His dad came in just then and smiled back. “Have you got your tooth under there?” he asked, patting Benny’s pillow. Benny nodded.
“Smashing,” his dad said, “Let’s see if the tooth fairy comes. Maybe she’ll leave you a little something when she takes it away.”
“Is the tooth fairy a girl then?” He was too old to believe, but he couldn’t help asking. His dad looked surprised, “She’s a woman, Benny. A beautiful tiny woman with little wings and a magic wand.”
“She sounds nice,” Benny said. There was a pause and Benny knew they were both thinking about his mum.
“She is nice,” his dad said. He pulled the covers up to Benny’s chin and kissed his forehead.
“Night, love. Sleep well.”
“Night, Dad.”

Benny heard the floorboards creaking in his dream. It was a normal enough dream for the eight-year-old. He was racing Terrence across the playing field and for once, he was winning. But then as he pumped his arms and legs and his heart hammered with triumph, he heard a strange squeak and felt a chill settle around his neck. He looked around the pitch, confused, as Terrence whipped ahead and giggled gleefully – a high-pitched, almost inhuman sound. Benny stirred in his sleep, on the silvery edge of wakefulness. Night air kissed his skin, cold and fresh, and he murmured. He opened his eyes blearily. The window was open, the curtains drawn and fluttering. Starlight poured into the room, causing large inky shadows to leap and dance.
“Dad?” Benny mumbled.
He saw someone in the corner, sitting on a chair. Benny felt the last dribbles of sleep ebb and leak from his body, leaving him wide awake and aware.
“Dad?” he tried again as his heart started to knock against his rib cage.
The shadowy figure stood up. It was at least half a metre shorter than his father, and much stockier. It advanced and Benny sucked in a sharp breath. He scuttled up his bed, flattening his back against the headboard.
“Hey, wee man,” said a raspy voice. The words dug into Benny like nails. “Turn that light on, will you? Let me get a good look at you.”
Trembling, Benny switched on his bedside lamp. Warm light flooded the room. Benny hoped it would dispel the nightmare and wake him up. Instead he faced the ugliest little man he had ever seen. He had an unnaturally large domed head and an enormous beaky nose. His skin was a mottled blue, the colour of a bruise, and he had a large red boil on his neck that made Benny wince. His eyes were beetle-black and small, glittering with mischief. And sprouting from his back, from two slits in his roughly hewn shirt, were a pair of small, twisted wings. They were naked, without any feathers and Benny could see the long slender bones through the translucent blotchy skin. They looked a bit like the pterodactyl wings from his dinosaur book.
“W-w-who are you?” Benny stammered, finally finding words. The creature tilted his huge, grotesque head and laughed, a high-pitched giggle. Benny felt like a handful of snow had been shoved down the back of his shirt.
“I’m the tooth fairy, of course.”

Benny peered at him sceptically, clutching the duvet around his quaking chin.
“Are you s-sure?” he asked. “My dad says the tooth fairy is a beautiful w-woman.”
“Well, your dad doesn’t know squat,” the fairy barked.
Benny rankled. Before he could stop himself he snapped, “My dad knows everything actually. He knows all about space and formula one and Dundee football club! And loads besides that.”
“Well, he doesn’t know much about me, does he? I’m not a woman, although I am rather beautiful,” the fairy rasped. He sounded a little like the old man at the bottom of the street who smoked even more cigarettes than Benny’s dad did.
Benny didn’t want to be rude, so he chose to say nothing to this.
“Terrence says you don’t exist.”
“Terrence McIntyre?”
“Yeah. Do you know him?”
“We weren’t formally introduced. That yin slept right through my visit. Didn’t even offer me a cuppa. And he had pished himself.”
Benny gawked, his mouth hanging open.
“Really?!”
“Really. Cross my heart and hope to die, for I shall never tell a lie.”
The fairy crossed his heart with knobbly, stumpy fingers. His nails were long and jagged.

Benny giggled despite himself. He wouldn’t tease Terrence about it at school. That would be mean. But he might mention it the next time Terrence came around and said his house smelt funny. By funny Benny knew he really meant “poor”.
Something the fairy had said registered with Benny. He was disquieted by the way the tooth fairy looked, but he was raised to always be polite, especially to strangers.
“Do you want a cup of tea? The kettle might wake my dad up, but I’m sure he’d be glad to meet you,” Benny said doubtfully.
“Nah, I’m all right. Ta, Benny.”
“OK.”
A long silence stretched between them. Benny waited for the fairy to say something else, but he didn’t. He felt a small chill pass through him from the night air that seeped through the curtains. The fairy was poking about in a little pouch attached to his belt. He stifled a belch and Benny bit back a delighted laugh until the odour hit him. A hot reek of rotted fish smacked him in the face. Benny tried not to gag as he didn’t want to hurt his feelings. The fairy didn’t notice. Instead he pulled out a small parcel. It looked like a tiny teabag. He inserted it under his lip, tight against his gum and sighed, settling back in the chair. It creaked under his weight.
Finally, Benny broke the silence by rooting around under his cold pillow and extracting the envelope. “I suppose you came for this?” he asked uncertainly. He had expected the transaction to be swift, conducted under the cloak of night, whilst he slept. Instead it had been drawn out and confusing and a bit awkward, actually.
“Is that your tooth there?” the tooth fairy asked, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming in the dark.
“Y-Yes.”
The fairy heaved himself up from the chair and advanced. He spat the tiny teabag into his hand and slipped it into his pocket.
“Give it here, then,” he demanded.
Benny passed it over. Up close he could count the blood vessels in his wings. The fairy opened the envelope, peered inside and said, “Good, good.” He licked it with a fat, purple tongue, resealed it and stowed it away.
“Well, I best be off. Thanks for your tooth, Benny.” He creaked over to the window and Benny cried out, alarmed.
“Wait! What about my money?”
The fairy chuckled ruefully. “I almost forget. Here.” He pulled out a pound coin and flipped it onto the bed. Benny scrambled for it eagerly. A pound would get him a lot of sweets at the tuck shop. Or maybe he would put it towards a new football magazine.
“Thanks,” he breathed, slipping it beneath his pillow for safekeeping.
The fairy rubbed his hands together, “Well, I’d best be off.”
Benny nodded politely. He wouldn’t be all that sorry to see the creature go. He was unsettling. But at the same time, Benny acknowledged this was a very strange occurrence. Would he ever see the fairy again? He had plenty of teeth to lose, but something told him this would never happen again. And he had so many questions bursting from inside him.

The fairy’s wings were just beginning to flap, great swathes of air blasting the hair from Benny’s forehead when he yelled, “Wait!” again.
The fairy’s wings stilled. He turned and smiled from the darkness, “Yes?”
Benny shrank back a little. The fairy’s wide smile exposed his teeth and Benny noticed he had nothing but little, brown stumps set in rotting dark gums. Another waft of hot, putrid breath wafted over Benny. He was disconcerted – the fairy made his heart beat a little fast and sweat run down his back, but he knew he couldn’t miss this chance. “What do you do with them? The teeth? What are you going to do with my tooth? Can you tell me?”
“I can do you one better,” the fairy leered. “I can show you.” Before Benny could move, the fairy had scooped him up from the bed. He let out a soft “oh” of dismay. The fairy didn’t seem to hear him. He ducked out of the window into the night air and Benny’s stomach lurched with the drop. He was too petrified to even scream. But the fairy rose quickly, his strange, sinewy wings flapping with power, if not grace. Benny clutched at him in terror, his arms tight around his neck. “That’s it,” the fairy coughed, “Hold on tight!”
They soared above the dark suburbs, flying above trees and houses, orange streetlights, square gardens and corner shops. Benny squeezed his eyes shut. Looking down made his vision swim and his mouth fill with sour-tasting spit.
“Where are we going?” he yelled over the wind, burying his face into the fairy’s scratchy, stained shirt.
“I’m taking you to Central Operations. Tooth HQ, if you like. Now hold on tight. You might want to keep your eyes shut for this bit!”
Despite himself Benny turned his head to look. Just ahead, miles above the city, hovered a great blue hole. It looked like a rip in the canvas of the sky. It seemed to pulsate menacingly and whatever was inside swirled in an angry torrent, like a churning potion. Tendrils of the deep blue reached out enticingly.
“What is that?” Benny gasped.

“That’s the portal to the goblin realm,” the fairy said conversationally. His voice was slightly strained. It was the only indication that his cargo might be unwieldy.
“I don’t want to go in there! No, don’t make me go in! I won’t! I won’t!” Benny screamed. He had forgotten he was high above the ground and he squirmed and struggled. The fairy gripped him tighter as they flew into the all-consuming blue. Benny screamed the whole way through the portal.
He screamed through the blue and the green, he screamed when shapes began to form around them. He screamed even when his screams were lost in the roaring of the portal.
He buried his face into the tooth fairy’s neck and cried as the world took shape around them, lines beginning to harden and solidify, the blue ebbing away until it was completely gone.
The fairy landed clumsily and set Benny down. Benny’s legs gave away immediately. He sat on the ground, legs splayed.  The ground was stone and the walls were stone. He wiped his grubby wet cheeks with the back of his pyjama sleeve and looked around. He appeared to be in a small office.

There weren’t any computers like at his dad’s work, or even a vending machine to serve coffee and hot chocolate, the best part of Benny’s dad’s office. There was a stone desk, a stone stool with a patched brown cushion and piles and piles of ledgers. Benny got to his feet wordlessly. Files and folders were stacked on the ground, rising up the wall in precarious, tottering columns. Everywhere he looked, there were thick jotters and notepads and colourful files; post-it notes stuck on the walls.
“Where am I?” he sniffled.
“My office.”
“What was that thing?”
“I told you, the portal to the goblin realm. It’s how we travel between dimensions.”
“I thought you were a fairy.” Benny was unable to keep the accusation from flying out.
“Well, tooth goblin doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?” the tooth fairy scoffed.
“No, I suppose not,” Benny conceded.
He felt overwhelmed and uncharacteristically shy. He hoped his dad didn’t know he was missing. The tooth goblin was stretching out his wings and groaning, like he had just come in from the cold. When he turned and grinned at Benny, Benny felt a little stab of unease.
“Well,” he said politely, “This is a nice office. Thank you for showing me. I should be going home.” He hoped they didn’t have to go through the portal again. He’d much prefer the subway or a bus.
“But I haven’t shown you anything yet,” the goblin replied with another horrible brown grin.
“Oh, that’s OK. I don’t mind,” Benny said very quietly, choosing to stare at the floor instead of the tooth goblin.
“No, no, I insist. Here, follow me,” the goblin opened the office door and lurched through it. Benny obediently followed him into a sort of open plan factory. His jaw fell wide open at all the goblins scurrying around. They were dressed in medical scrubs, just like the real dentist, and wore face masks and white gloves. Behind the masks, he could see they had the same mottled blue skin and beetley eyes as the tooth goblin, but they didn’t have wings sprouting from their hunched backs.
“This is the centre of operations,” the tooth fairy said. The goblins seemed to be sorting through plastic tubs of teeth, rattling through them and holding them up to the light to inspect them. If they passed inspection, they were handed to a second goblin who darted through a door on the far side of the sorting room.

“What are they doing?”
“Looking for imperfections – holes, that kind of thing. Too many cans of ginger or bars of choccy.”
“Why?”
“I’ll show you why.”
The tooth fairy led Benny across the room. He stared at all the lab-coated goblins wide-eyed but they ignored him, continuing to sort through the teeth.
They went through the door Benny had noticed earlier.

It appeared to be a waiting room, just like Benny’s own dentist. There were seats along the wall, a reception desk, and those rubbish block toys that were no fun at all. A squat goblin receptionist leered at Benny through winged spectacles. He gave her the politest smile he could muster. There were several very small goblin children playing on the rug, while their mothers looked on. They had funny, pot-bellied bodies and wide frog-like mouths. One started to squawk and his mother scooped him up. Benny tried not to stare but he couldn’t help noticing the goblin children had no teeth. They just had purplish gums and big flat tongues. “Through here,” the tooth fairy ushered Benny down a corridor and into yet another room. Benny felt an instinctive pang of fear – he didn’t like dentists. He didn’t think the small goblin child in the dentist chair did either – he was cringing and crying as the large white-coated figure loomed over him with tools.

“Hello, Marty,” the tooth fairy said.
“All right, Denise?”
Benny looked up at the tooth fairy. He felt a strange urge to giggle, mixed up with the sick scared feeling in his tummy.
“It’s a family name,” the tooth fairy snapped.
“I’m just showing young Benny how things work around here and what happens to his teeth.”
“Oh, lovely,” Marty the Dentist turned back to his patient. “Now open wide. Wider, please.”
The little goblin opened his mouth as wide as he could, until it looked like his face might split in half. Benny forgot his manners and stared, his own mouth popping open. The goblin had half a mouthful of teeth – little baby milk teeth like his. There were molars and premolars on the left side of his mouth. The right was empty, just an expanse of gums.

“So what if we use them? I thought you humans were all about recycling now. Goblins aren’t born with teeth, you see, and we need them. Do you want lots of goblin children to starve because they can’t eat their tea?”
“No,” Benny said quietly.
“No, so we just use what you don’t need anymore. It’s a great system – we pay you and in return you relinquish all rights to your teeth.”
Benny didn’t know what ‘relinquish’ meant but he was beginning to feel a little better. It sort of made sense, he thought. He got to have adult teeth after all. Maybe it was fair to give the unwanted milk teeth to the goblins.
“Now, let’s cheer you up,” the fairy bent down on one knee and smiled into Benny’s face. Benny scooted back on the chair as far as he could. An unpleasant waft of breath hit him like warm sewage.
“What do you want more than anything?” the fairy asked.
Benny didn’t have to think very hard. “I want my mum back,” he said.
The fairy scoffed, “I cannae do that. It has to be of monetary value.” He sighed at Benny’s puzzled expression.
“Something that costs money. Something you want but cannae afford.”
This was harder. Benny thought for a long time. He thought about all the things Terrence had, all the little gifts and holidays that made him jealous. Then he remembered the Lego Batwing and how Terrence and his dad had spent a weekend putting it together. It would be nice to do that with his dad. He always wished they could spend more time together.
 “The new Lego Batwing.”
“There we go,” the fairy said, “Excellent choice. Now I’ve got a little proposition for you.”
“What’s a proposition?”
“A deal.”
“OK,” Benny said dubiously.
“I’ll promise you the full monetary value of a Lego Batwing, as it is in toy stores today, for your full set of teeth.”
“You can’t have all my teeth!” Benny exclaimed, “I need them!”
“No, you don’t. Your adult teeth will grow in. It will take no time at all!”
“But how will I eat?”
“Smoothies. Full of vitamins. Soup. Likewise.”
Benny quite liked soups and smoothies but this was too much.
“I don’t think so,” he said imagining himself without teeth. Terrence would laugh himself sick.
“It’s up to you, Benny Boy. But I’d do it in a heartbeat. Just think about it, let’s do the maths, shall we? £177.99 for a Lego Batwing. Let’s round it up to £180. 20 baby teeth, including the one you’ve just lost. £9 per tooth. You cannae get fairer than that. A very generous offer, if I say so myself.”
Benny was stunned by the maths. He tried to work it out himself but couldn’t. He did know that if he lost his teeth the normal way, he would only get £20 in total, which seemed like a lot, but would take ages to add up, and it was nowhere near enough to get an expensive Lego set for him and his dad. He felt torn. He would look silly without teeth but maybe he could persuade his dad to let him stay home from school until they grew back in. He could tell everybody he was on holiday.
“OK,” he said. He was going to continue and say, “Maybe you can take half,” but before he could even get the words out, a pair of leather straps appeared and snapped his wrists to the arms of the chair. He squeaked in fright and wriggled.
“Good doing business with you,” the fairy leered.
“No,” Benny said trying to free his arms, “I wasn’t finished. I didn’t say yes!”
“You said OK, and that’s a verbal contract.” The fairy put on a gameshow host’s booming voice, “I’m afraid I’ll have to take your FIRST answer.”
“No,” Benny said, his heart hammering as he squirmed and fought. The straps were very tight against his skin, he could feel welts rising.
“Oh, yes,” the fairy said with a sinister grin. He produced a pair of pliers. Benny burst into tears, “I want to go home! I want to go home!”
“You will, Benny Boy, right after this.” The tooth fairy advanced towards him menacingly. Benny threw back his head and screamed, fright coursing through him. He wanted his dad, he wanted his mum, he wanted to wake up safe and warm in bed. Tears splashed down his cheeks and he kept screaming as the pliers flashed and caught the light. He could already taste the blood filling his mouth.
“That’s it,” the fairy grinned, “Nice and wide.”

Marty the Dentist picked up an incisor and bent over the goblin who whimpered.
Benny looked away. His tummy felt queasy.
“I’d like to go home, please,” he whispered to the tooth fairy.
“OK, Benny,” the tooth fairy turned to leave, “Thanks, Marty, see you later. Down the Horse’s Hind maybe.”
He swept Benny through the door and ushered him through the reception and the factory, all the way back to the office.
“You all right, wee one? You look a bit pale.” The tooth fairy held out a chair and Benny sank into it.
“I don’t feel well,” he said quietly.
“Oh, dear. Have a lollipop,” the tooth fairy produced a pink lollipop from thin air. Benny took it but he didn’t want it. He held it limply and blinked back tears.
“Why are you so upset? What did you think happened to the teeth? They sat in your mum’s bedside table or got flushed down the loo?” The fairy snorted, “Or did you think I collected them all to build a nice sparkling palace out of teeth?”
Benny shook his head.

The End