GYSPY, THE TOOTH FAIRY

Sunday, January 23, 2011


Today when I came home from the thrift store Lula told me she'd lost a tooth.

Which was surprising, because I didn't know she'd had a loose tooth.

And which now raises the question: how much does the Tooth Fairy leave, these days?

It's been a long time since I've had anything to do with the Tooth Fairy. We met, briefly, eleven years ago, when I found myself stranded by the side of the road in Las Vegas; she opened her car door and offered me a lift, explaining, over a bottle of vodka, that she'd recently made a career change and was going by the name Gypsy. When I asked what had prompted the switch, her answer was simple: too many teeth.

She'd never liked teeth, apparently, and had only taken the tooth fairy gig to please her then-boyfriend, a rotund, jolly guy who liked to dress in red felt clothes with white fuzzy piping; he himself a giving sort of person, he'd persuaded her to apply for the job for the sake of "all the boys and girls--even the naughty ones." His choice of words had weirded her out a little, she said, brushing back a strand of bleached hair, but she'd gotten the job and done the lost-tooth-leave-money routine for four hundred years--maybe not that long, but it felt "really fucking long," and by the end, when someone named Ronnie took her place, she was more than ready to shake her groove thang at the Black Stallion Gentlemen's Club in Vegas, and...

"Here I am!" she said, giggling happily between swallows of vodka. For a moment it was quiet; among other things, I was impressed by her ability to drive drunk. Was it some leftover tooth fairy magic, or was she just a really good alcoholic?

"Gypsy," I said, "what's the new gal like? She doesn't steal, does she?" I explained that although most of our belongings once belonged to the thrift store, I'm still greedy, possessive, and anal about them, and if anyone thinks I'm about to let some strange chick wearing a green ice-skating outfit into the house in the middle of the night, THEY GOT ANOTHER THINK COMING, BE-OTCH!!!

"I know!" said Gypsy. "It's totally weird and creepy. I mean, I had to lift up little kids' pillows and stuff! Compared to what Jingle Balls--my old boyfriend--has to do, my job was seriously risky! I practically had to get in the kids' beds! Think about the potential lawsuits, and then think about the strategy and dexterity required to get under a pillow--a pillow with a sleeping head on it--and rustle around for a disgusting tooth, then put a heavy-ass silver dollar in its place...it was hell! Big Daddy X-mas has it easy, let me tell you."

"And you hated teeth in the first place."

"Right. I've always hated teeth. Ever since that time I took mushrooms with the Easter Rabbit. Talk about a bad trip! Wow."

We'd arrived at the Black Stallion, so I stumbled out of the car and threw the empty vodka bottle over my shoulder. Suddenly overcome by a warm, happy feeling, I shouted "WOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOO! Gypsy, you're a fucking cool ex-tooth fairy!!!"

"Thanks, doll," she said, giving me a hug. We went inside, and for a while I watched her dance--until, that is, I found myself sitting on the lap of, and making out with, a goth transvestite. By that time everything was a blur, and soon I lost sight of her.

4 comments:

uncleremus said...

me thinks you've had a VERY interesting life, that we haven't heard much about!!!!
very cool entry!!

Isabel said...

Thanks Uncleremus!!

It's fiction--ALL FICTION!!! :)

XOXOXOXOXO

Cassandra said...

* except the part about the transvestite

Isabel said...

Um...no comment...

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