The Crown

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I traveled through her domain for days; I painfully crossed every incisor bridge, rowed through the disgusting Lake of Oral Fluids, and endured every baby tooth storm in the middle of Dry Socket Desert. No one told me how tedious it would be traveling in the land of the Tooth Fairy, but at last I reached her palace.

With rotten molar columns lining the grand entrance and a fence topped with cavity-infested canines, the palace was anything but the one I read about in books. This wasn’t some spectacular castle crafted from shiny pearly-whites with delightful toothpaste streams and sparkling mouthwash waterfalls encompassing the wonderful fortress. I wished there was a mouthwash fall close by – I could use a gargle after this sight.

A huge woman dressed in a puffy brown dress steps out of the plaque-ridden citadel, even her raggedy dress had seen some better days – not to mention it looked like she took a thick shit on the garment. “I didn’t think you would make it this far, Tessa, but welcome nonetheless.”

“Well, it wasn’t the most pleasant of trips,” I muttered, emphasizing the bite mark I got from a wild denture beast. “I thought it would be –”

“Cleaner? Brighter? Did you imagine a welcoming party of festive dental floss children and fluoride fountains?” The woman scoffed. “Well, you’re very much mistaken, my dear. Contrary to common belief, those days never truly existed. Not since the humans started producing gumdrop-sucking little brats by the masses. There simply are too many teeth collected here each night that they are without a place. So, they are either taken away and pelt the cold sands of Dry Socket Desert or end up in one of the rooms in the palace, rotting.”

“Is that why you called for me?”

The Tooth Fairy smiled. “That’s exactly why, darling. You see, quite frankly I’m so done with this job, and when I brought to the council my intention of retiring, they informed me I needed to find a replacement. And it’s no secret that you’re having lots of trouble on the surface getting used to being an adult.”

“You want me to take your place? My God – I didn’t even know you existed until you sent me that bubble mint scented letter in the mail!”

“Well, it is technically your birthright that you end up here. In a matter of time, your wings’ll sprout, and your friends and Earthen family will either desert you or make millions with a viral YouTube video of your first attempt at flying.

“You belong here, my sweet daughter. Now go get tidied up – we’ll be having a denture beast steak and gingivitis stew for dinner.”

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