ROT: The Complete Novel

ROT

The Complete Novel

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Aidan J. Reid

ROT

The Complete Novel

by Aidan J. Reid

First Digital Edition © 2019 Aidan J. Reid

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www.aidanjreid.com

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Cover design – My Own! Aren’t I clever?

Contents

Part 1 – The Origin of the Feces

Part 2 – The Tooth Hurts

Part 3 – Flossed and Found

Part 4 – Plaque to the Future

Part 5 – Gum but not Forgotten

Part 6 – Filling Time

Part 7 – Fifteen Days Later

Part 8 – Fifteen Months Later

PART 1

Origin of the Feces

Given the option again, I probably would have had my nuts crushed.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m obviously grateful that everything still jangled as I walked the plank. Staring down into the bubbling hot pit far below, I felt the boys nudge a reminder they were still attached before they scurried inside me for cover. Cowards.

Now I’m not great with heights at the best of times. Norm’ly I don’t like to admit that. But seein’ as how the fat lady is clearing her throat, I’m gonna tell a few home truths. I ain’t usually so honest about sayin’ such things. ‘Specially in my line of work. Sign of weakness. Any clue and they’ll move you to another location. No hesitation whatsoever.

Bunk beds. Christ. Don’t get me started. Try getting up and down them when you see dawn breaking on the curtains. ‘Spose, looking back, I was lucky I didn’t get too many of those gigs. No sirree. Sixteen – no - eighteen years of fairying! Has it really been that long?

Give me your straight-up single or doubles. Bungalow if you’re offerin’. Make it easy to get in and out. No fuss. No mess. Here you go Boss. Seven teeth in one night. Goodnight and God Bless. You couldn’t do that in a week now, even if you had all day, all night. Those were the good ol’ days. But then again, that was before the Rot…

They’re shouting all ‘round me now. Egging me on. I can’t help but smile. The humans have a sayin’. I spent enough time around them to know ‘em well enough. More than most, that’s for sure. They says, ‘somedays you’re the pigeon. Other days you’re the statue’. Ain’t that the truth.

Just so happens that today I’m the statue. But before I fall, I want you to join me. It’s a helluva story.

Come to think of it, eighteen years is a long time. Went by in a blink. ‘Cept for the interview. I still remember that. Still wake up in a cold panic about it too. She has that impression. Real nice like.

That fateful mornin’ I’m standing there, gettin’ ready, looking at myself in the mirror. Clipping my beard real neat. Back then it was jet black. That’s how Lena liked it. Job stress soon ended that. God, I remember it so well.

Missed a spot, she had said, taking my blade and scratching my cheek. Her smile always had a way of calming me down.

I’d trade everything to be in those shoes again.

I’m late, I say. Wish me luck.

I fling a blazer jacket ‘round me. She adjusts my tie. We share a quick kiss and then I’m off to hail a cab, praying traffic works in my favor.

Now I don’t believe in fate, but of all the drivers to get, I end up with a far darrig. Talk about a bad omen. Can’t take some fairies at face value anymore. Anyways, I get in the backseat and give this guy directions. Minute we start moving, he pipes up and gives me this real cute sob story. Don’t remember the detail now. I tried zonin’ out. In my lap I got study notes for the interview. Why do you want to be a tooth fairy? What skills do you think you’d need? The hell if I know. ‘Cos I need the money. Is that reason enough? Me and Lena knocked our heads together the night before and came up with a script Scorcese would be proud of. Problem is, I just can’t get it to stick in my brain. The guy won’t shut up.

So, I’m sitting in the back, trying to get my thoughts together and after ‘bout ten minutes, I realize we’re going in the wrong direction! He looks round at me. Big fat, hairy face starts sniggering. Sayin’ how he took a wrong turn. Two wrongs certainly don’t make a right when you’re headed on the highway away from town. Can you believe it? I give him an earful. Finally, he makes a U-turn and we’re back on route again. I have to tuck my notes away in case he decides to take another detour.

When he pulls up to a stop, I already have the fare ready. Cab’s and most stores accept all creature currency. At the bottom of the pile just so happens to be my currency of choice. The value ain’t so hot these days. Thanks to the Rot. I hand over a badly rotten premolar. That’ll teach ‘em. He starts lookin’ at it, screwing his nose up. I think it used to belong to a gerbil. I can’t remember. I won it in a card game, years back. Hadn’t had a good reason to use it until that point. Was savin’ it for the right time.

Anyways, I’m already out the door when he starts kicking up a stink. I don’t hear it. Partly ‘cos I’m standing there, looking up at this huge domed building with white walls, polished and gleamin’. I don’t remember if the sun was out that day, but that’s how I remember it. A big set of doors in front. I walk through, half in a daze, nearly forgettin’ what I’m there for.

A cute receptionist steps out from behind her desk and takes my name. Points me to a seat. I don’t need to wait long. I hear the foot strides of a woman before she appears ‘round the corner. She comes straight up to me. Bold as brass. Little mischievous look in her eye. Now, I seen pixies before but none so good looking as her. She’s got a little saw cut hairstyle, and I try my best to act all professional like, even though I’m nervous as hell. I follow her through a side door, along a corridor, ‘til we stop outside a boardroom. It’s empty inside. The door is open, and she suggests I sit down.

Her Highness will be along in a few minutes. Can I get you anything?

Yeah. I know, right? I didn’t expect no royalty either. Now I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t sweating buckets at that point. She leaves to fetch me a water. Buy me some time. I’m lookin’ down at my shirt, feeling it hug my chest, praying that the damp don’t show much underneath. I try and fatten my tie, so she won’t see the sweat. Pixie never comes back. Eighteen years later, I’m still waiting for that water.

When there is someone at the door, it’s her. I seen enough pictures in the old books to know. Back then, she wasn’t too media friendly. Never appeared to the common fairy. Didn’t have to. Had a team around her that would do her bidding. Times have changed though. Even she’s gotta keep up appearances to the masses.

That day, I never expected to meet her for an interview. I get up, trip over a few words. Her face doesn’t even twitch. Cold stare like. Now, I know what you’re thinking. I did do. Don’t believe the stories. This is one cold-blooded bitch we’re talking about. I’ll get to that. Anyway, I’m there, all gooey-eyed and star struck, ‘til she kills me stone-dead with one command.

Sit down.

Just like that! Like I said. Charmer. I couldn’t tell you what we talked about for the next forty-five minutes. I just remember her eyes. Black as coal. Lifeless. I swear the woman didn’t event blink. And to think. This was the Fairy Godmother! Come to think of it, she hasn’t aged a day since then. I’ll always r’member that stare. Bore right through me. I had half a mind to get up and leave but I don’t think my legs woulda had the energy.

Well, whatever I said worked. The job was mine. If I passed the medical.

6am. There’s six of us at the base of Sugarloaf mountain. Streetlights are still burnin’ bright. Houses twinkle below us. People getting’ up very early for work, or to take a pee. It’s still dark. I’m zippered up in my hoodie, rubbin’ hands together for heat. Quick introductions make it clear we’re all there for the same reason. We compare notes on the interview and most have reached the conclusion that our potential new Boss is a ball-busting bitch. That puts me at ease. Some of them could be my new work mates. A friendly bunch. But are we competing against each other?

So, we just wait? I ask them and get a Mexican wave of shrugs.

One of them, a small plump man, wearing a wine colored shellsuit that makes him look like a grape, starts limbering up. He’s been quiet so far. Like a yawn, his warm-up routine begins to infect us all. Soon, we’re all stretchin’ this way and that. Some a bit more limber than others.

Grape takes off his top. Paper padding falls out, before he knots the jacket around his waist. He’s just lost 30lbs. Suddenly lookin’ less like the weakest link and more like the front-runner.

OK gents, he says. I hope you’re ready. You’ve had a chance to certainly warm up your mouths.

We look at one another, open-mouthed. That was a nasty trick. The first in a long line of them I was to find out.

1200 feet between here and the top of Sugarloaf, he says. That’s an incline of 63 degrees. Soon you’ll be crawlin’ on your hands and knees. Your calves won’t know what’s hit them.

We’ve formed a semi-circle around him. Some of the faces already look beaten, regrettin’ the loose talk. We look up the steep incline. Rocky, loose terrain that isn’t the clearest to see in this light.

Your challenge is to get to the top and back in under two hours. Those who do? Welcome to the team. Those who don’t? You’ll be reported to the authorities for slander and perjury against her Highness.

Nodding heads from the group as we watch the instructor raise his arm and press a few buttons on his watch. Little electronic beeps break the tension. A fairy on my right, regretting the fact he didn’t do a warm up now breaks into star jumps. After a few of those, he’s out of breath and leaning on my shoulder. Good luck buddy!

At the top, you’ll find five green flags under rocks marked with an ‘X’. Take it and bring it back to base.

But, there’s four of us. One of the fairies says, which releases a tight smile from Grape’s face.

That’s right. Don’t be the one that doesn’t make it back.

We look at each other. From strangers to colleagues to competitors. All in the space of five minutes. A whistle from the instructor. Don’t need to ask me twice. I’m first outta the traps.

Last time I broke into anything like a sprint was for school sports day, a decade earlier. That is to say, when it came my turn to take part in it, I ran from the teachers.

I was never the most athletic. Though, to look at me, you’d think otherwise. I’ve got that popular skinny-fat look goin’ on which means I can hide the gut under clothes. See me on a beach though, and you’d think I had swallowed a boulder.

But, I did have one advantage that day which definitely helped. Lena and I had been dating for a year by that stage. Early on in our relationship, I told her I knew all the constellations. Told her, I used to spend my teenage years starin’ up at the sky and ponderin’ the great questions of our Universe. Not a total lie. My parents installed a skylight in my bedroom, and I would sleep twelve hours a day. The big questions? When I’d get my first hair. When I’d meet the right girl. Normal stuff that plagues a teenage mind.

Anyways, Lena was charmed by this amateur astronomer and insisted we spend a night under the stars on top of Sugarloaf. We carried up sleeping bags and made a little campfire. It was there where we first did the deed. Five dates in. Under a blanket of stars in a cool Summer night is what she’ll tell you. Very romantic. In front of thousands of homes and swarmed by mosquitoes is what I’ll tell you. Stage fright.

The route up that time was trickier than I reckoned, ‘specially since I was the mule carryin’ the stuff on my back. She had moved ahead and pointed out the easiest track. The night sky was closin’ in around us. Few times we came up against a wall face and had to trace our steps back. Her, shining a torch in front. The Scully to my Mulder.

After our fourth night visit to the mountain, it was easier to find the path of least resistance. Which is to say, one that gave a nice level curve to the top. Back then Lena was a lot fitter than me. Two decades of fairyin’ later though, and I can hold my own.

Using my mountain knowledge, I pulled away from the early pace setters. I see where they’re headed. Soon, they’re gonna burn up their energy and hit a wall. They don’t see me as I slope off around the side. Slow and steady wins the race.

Less than an hour later, as the sun starts to appear, I’m at the summit. In the center, rocks pin down the green flags. I run over, pull out one. For a minute, I think about hidin’ the others. Just to delay the rest but think better of it. I’m in the lead. That’s enough.

I come back the way I came. A short while later, one of the fairies crosses my path. Bookies probably woulda marked him as a sure thing at the startin’ line. Skinny, wiry type like he is used to runnin’ for his dinner. He stares at the cloth in my hand and then at me. There’s a look that crosses his eyes. I come to know that look. Desperation.

Don’t even think about it.

I ain’t the violent sort, but if I’m provoked, hell hath no fury like it. He steps forward and I get into that springy cat position, just about to unleash some David Banner on his ass. A head appears over his shoulder. He turns around quickly, and sees the runner, then decides better of it, sprinting past me to the mountain top.

For safety, I tuck the flag inside my pocket and give the other two a wide berth. Lot easier goin’ down than it is comin’ up. Their energy reserves are nearly gone. Just gotta keep my head up and eye on the track in front.

When I get to the bottom, Grape is there to greet me. Hittin’ a button on his watch, he takes out a stubby notepad where he jots down something.

Well done, he says, and gives an impressive nod. First back and in ninety-five minutes. That’s a new record.

I double over, panting hard. He pats me on the back as I try and hoover up the air.

I’ll let that loose talk from earlier slide. We’ll keep that between us. What’s your name?

Ray Jones. I stand up tall now, swipin’ the forehead sweat away with my arm. Dawn light beams down on me from high above.

Well Ray, you’re now a fully-fledged bona-fide tooth fairy, he says and extends a hand. Congratulations. Welcome to the team.

Starting off, we were a team of forty. Three of the runners that day were thrown into my team. They turned out to be good guys actually. Ah, the good ol’ days! We were split by zip code. Not the cleverest way of doing things, I know, but at least there was some kinda order. Clear boundaries. Meant that each fairy had their own patch. No overlap. ‘Course you’d still get a few that broke the rules. People do desperate things in desperate times. Wouldn’t you if you had mouths to feed? But, we sorted things out between ourselves. No need to get her involved.

But like I said, things were different