This is the Place a Tooth Fairy Goes to Die

The tooth fairy bombed. She completely and utterly failed last night. I know this for certain, because I am the tooth fairy.

“I still have my tooth,” the boy looked blankly at me this morning while I was brushing my teeth. Frankly, I’m not so sure that the boy believes in the tooth fairy because he didn’t seem that enthusiastic about putting his tooth under his pillow. But he seemed to give into peer pressure, because everywhere we went recently someone would hear about his loose tooth and say Oooh! The tooth fairy will be visiting you soon!

Ironically, the tooth fairy did not.

“Hmmm…” I said, mouth full of toothpaste so that I was only partially understandable, which may have been part of my tactic. “I imagine she was just really backed up last night. Put it back under your pillow—she could show up at any time.”

This is the Sumo Fairy. He sprinkles good luck dust on well-behaved wrestlers before matches. He's totally unrelated to me.

The boy seemed largely disinterested, but went to return his tooth because hey—free money. The tooth fairy, by which of course I mean me, spat out the toothpaste and made a mental note on a mental post-it and mentally pressed the sticky side forcefully against the mental version of the bathroom mirror. Tonight! Get the boy’s tooth! For god’s sake, you had one job!

Well, realistically, the tooth fairy wears several hats while she is posing as a stay-at-home-mom/homeschool teacher/cook/maid/animal caretaker/errand runner, etc., etc. As a result of all these hats she gets very easily distracted, especially by non-fairies. Non-fairies, aka humans, are fascinating creatures. For instance:

Today the version of me that is not acting as tooth fairy had to go to the Mazda dealership as a favor to my husband, because he needed some parts for his Mazda vehicle (non-fairies unfortunately cannot fly or use magic to get where they need to go quickly.) Having never been to a car dealership where new things are sold before, this was a riveting experience.

With my wings carefully hidden from all people, including my children, I exited my vehicle with the tot and the boy in tow. We walked up to the formidable building that had no useful signage. The parts department was mysteriously hidden within the bosom of this glossy building dotted all over with freakishly friendly salesman trotting around like beads of sweat dripping down between the cleavage.

Immediately I was approached by a man with one of those suits that is distinctively not classy. His mouth was twisted into a smile that looked like something that had been plastered there for so long that the muscles had caught. His eyes I dared not look at after hearing his voice—that would have been too sinister.

A tooth fairy can only take so much falseness in one instant before something drastic happens. Those bad vibes might make a wing fall off or make one shrink into a deformed little nub. Nobody wants that—least of all the kids with the loose teeth.

The man’s voice was so sickly-sweet that the words seemed to hang in the air between us, so sticky with all that sugar that they clung awkwardly together with nowhere to go. “How can I help you, ma’am?”

“The parts department please,” I choked out, trying to make sure I did not accidentally inhale any of those sticky words.

“Of course, let me take you there,” he led onward through a maze of shiny black walls, taking me deep into the belly of the beast. I felt a bit like I was infiltrated some dark energy source. This was entirely unexpected—a tooth fairy had no place in such an environment.

We passed a showroom and a very shiny car with a very new smell wafted off of it, and several more of those sinister folks—the sickly-sweet man’s cronies—were hovering about. Then we passed an office where another sickly-sweet fellow in a cheap suit seemed to be crunching numbers. It was then that I realized what grave danger I was in.

A tooth fairy doles out a dollar here, and a dollar there to grateful children with new windows in their rows of teeth. It is a healthy environment, as nature intended. And there I stood surrounded by wolves in cheap suits ready to snap up whatever they could surround, and a man in an office hungrily crunching five digit numbers with dollar signs thrown in all over the place. The meaning flashed through my head. This is the place tooth fairies come to die.

“Here you are, ma’am. If you need anything else, do not hesitate to ask,” and the man disappeared. I stood at a window, taking deep breaths, feeling my lungs gummed up by all that sap-like sugar.

At the service window before me a large man with large tattoos down his arms appeared. He dropped a fist down onto the counter in a not entirely patient way and asked my business. I felt clean air hit my lungs as I looked at his facial hair covered chin and small blue eyes that were not intimidating me with falsities.

It is all going to be okay now, this hairy parts man is going to take care of everything. I breathed. A vending machine behind me was being hammered on by another man in a mechanic uniform, somewhat violently, and I had the feeling I may have given him a quarter or two a few decades back. A feeling of safe familiarity washed over me.

Hairy Parts Man did take care of business. On the way out the boy asked why there was a shiny car parked in the middle of that large room.

“Because those people want to take your tooth fairy money, and a whole lot more,” I whispered, feeling my wings twitch nervously.

Some eight hours later this tooth fairy was eating some chocolate granola cereal at midnight and muttering on about how it was so good that it did not appear to be granola at all. It had become apparent to me that chocolate granola to the tooth fairy might be something like ambrosia is to Aphrodite.

The food of the dental fairies must be sweet, of course, because fairies can’t get cavities. This is the sort of food a fairy could get fat on eating at midnight, but then, what else should a fairy be doing at mid—

The fairy (me) dropped the spoon. That mental sticky note still stuck to the mental bathroom mirror suddenly came into sight. I hopped out of bed and began shuffling for my tooth fairy wand, because a fairy can’t forget two nights in a row.

I’d better close here—it’s off to work I go.