"Monday, January 7, 2013.

Felix brushes his teeth. Then he brushes his other teeth, the false ones, and slides them into his mouth. Despite the layer of pink adhesive he�s applied, they don�t fit very well; perhaps his mouth is shrinking. He smiles: the illusion of a smile. Pretense, fakery, but who�s to know?

Once he would have called his dentist and made an appointment, and the luxurious faux-leather chair would have been his, the concerned face smelling of mint mouthwash, the skilled hands wielding gleaming instruments. Ah yes, I see the problem. No worries, we�ll get that fixed for you. Like taking his car in for a tuneup. He might even have been graced with music on the earphones and a semi-knockout pill.

But he can�t afford such professional adjustments now. His dental care is low-rent, so he�s at the mercy of his unreliable teeth. Too bad, because that�s all he needs for his upcoming finale: a denture meltdown. Our revelth now have ended. Theeth our actorth … Should that happen, his humiliation would be total; at the thought of it even his lungs blush. If the words are not perfect, the pitch exact, the modulation delicately adjusted, the spell fails. People start to shift in their seats, and cough, and go home at intermission. It�s like death."

 

No, his teeth are in bad condition, so they are unreliable. They are definitely not unrelenting.

 

 

Bruce