Demon Dentist

It might not have been the most flattering choice of words, but the headmaster allowed himself a brief flicker of a smile as all the kids at last fell silent. Everyone looked at Gabz as she sat back down. After her outburst, the girl was now surrounded by the strange glow of celebrity.

“Good…” continued Mr Grey, in his grey monotonous voice. “A bit less of the old though, thank you, Gabriella. Now as a special treat for you, with a talk about looking after your teeth, here is the town’s new dentist. P-p-please give a huge school welcome to the lovely Miss R-R-Root…”

As the headmaster scuttled off, there was a short burst of applause. Soon this was drowned out by a discordant squeaking sound from the very back of the hall. One by one the kids turned around. A lady was pushing a shiny metal trolley down through the parted sea of chairs. One of the wheels was catching on the wooden floor, and the high-pitched squeal was so brain-aching, some of the children even put their fingers in their ears. The sound was like someone scratching their fingernails down a blackboard.

The first thing you noticed about Miss Root was her teeth. She had the most dazzling white smile. Whiter than white. Like a fluorescent light. Her teeth were absolutely flawless. So flawless they couldn’t possibly be real. The second thing you noticed about Miss Root was that she was impossibly tall. Her legs were so long and thin, it was like watching someone walk on stilts. She was dressed in a white laboratory coat, like the one a Science teacher wears when it’s time for an experiment. Underneath the coat, her white blouse was matched by a long white flowing skirt. As she passed, Alfie looked down and noticed a large splash of red on the toe of one of her shiny white high-heeled shoes.

Is it blood? thought Alfie.

Miss Root’s hair was white-blonde, and arranged in a perfectly lacquered ‘do’, usually only spotted on the heads of Queens or Prime Ministers. The ‘do’ was shaped much like a Mr Whippy ice cream, minus the flake, of course.

In a certain light she looked very old. Her features were narrow and pointy, and her skin pale as snow. However, the dentist had painstakingly painted on so much make-up that it was impossible to tell how old she really was.

50?

90?

900?

Finally Miss Root reached the front of the hall. She turned around, and smiled. The low winter sun shone through the high windows and bounced off her teeth, causing the front few rows to cover their eyes.

“Good morning, children…!” she said brightly. The dentist spoke in a singsong manner, as if she were recounting a nursery rhyme. There was a collective groan from the kids at being spoken to as if they were toddlers.

“I said, good morning, children…” repeated the dentist, and she fixed them all with a powerful stare. So powerful that soon a hush descended upon the room. Then in unison all the assembled pupils said:

“Good morning.”

“Let me introduce myself. I am your new dentist. My name is Miss Root, but I ask all my little patients like you to call me ‘Mummy’.”

Alfie and Gabz shared a look of disbelief.

“So can I hear a great big ‘Hello, Mummy’? After three! One, two, three…”

Miss Root mouthed the words silently as the children joined in.

“Hello, Mummy,” they murmured.

“Excellent! Now I came to this town when a very unfortunate, indeed fatal, accident befell Mr Erstwhile. The poor wretch must have fallen on to one of his own dental instruments. Oh, the irony! Of course there’s no need to go into all the gory details, but suffice it to say, Mr Erstwhile was found lying on the floor of his surgery in a huge pool of blood. The dental probe was embedded deep in his heart…”

A deafening silence descended on the hall. Alfie gulped. It was a horrifying image. Mr Erstwhile may have been old and doddery, but could he really have accidentally stabbed himself in the heart?

“Mummy would like you all to give one minute’s silence for Mr Erstwhile. Now close your eyes, children. All of you. No peeping!”

Alfie didn’t trust Miss Root enough to close his eyes. Nor did Gabz. Both screwed up their faces and squinted. From out of the tiny slits in his eyelids, Alfie spied something very strange. Instead of standing at the front with her own eyes closed, Miss Root tiptoed around the room inspecting all the children’s teeth. When she finally reached Alfie’s row at the back, the boy squeezed his eyes tightly shut for fear of getting into trouble. Miss Root must have lingered looking at his rotten set, as the boy could feel her cold breath on his face for a while before she tiptoed back to the front of the hall.

“And that’s one minute!” the dentist announced. “Thank you, children, you can open your eyes…”

Alfie and Gabz looked at each other again. They were the only two kids who had witnessed Miss Root’s peculiar behaviour…

4 (#ulink_17fab47d-7019-5288-8b2d-508c179d2dc7)

Blacker than Black (#ulink_17fab47d-7019-5288-8b2d-508c179d2dc7)

“Of course, Mr Erstwhile will be sadly missed,” concluded Miss Root. “But as your new dentist I asked your wonderful headmaster if I could come here today. Mummy wanted to give you all a chance to get to know me, so I can welcome each and every one of you personally to my surgery. Now I am going to begin today’s little talk with an incy-wincy question. Children, how many of you hate going to the dentist?”

All but one kid put their hand up. No one actually enjoyed going to the dentist. At best it was tolerated. The one boy who didn’t put his hand up was too busy texting.

Alfie reached his hand in the air as high as he could.

“Oh! So many hands. Ha ha!” she laughed, though not in a way that suggested she found it funny. “So how many of you REALLY REALLY REALLY hate going to the dentist…?” incanted Miss Root in that singsong voice of hers.

Most of the hands stayed up, and Alfie actually rose out of his chair so his hand would be the highest. This boy was the king of really really really hating going to the dentist. After he had the wrong tooth pulled out, no one in the known universe hated going to the dentist more than Alfie.

“Ho ho ho!” said the dentist.

“Who on earth says ‘Ho ho ho’?” whispered Alfie to Gabz.

“So lame!” replied the little girl.

“Well, Mummy is here today to tell you there is absolutely nothing to be scared of…” The words danced in the air as she spoke. If her tone of voice was meant to sound reassuring, it didn’t. It sounded the opposite of reassuring. It was in fact decidedly unnonreassuring* (#ulink_f381e6d1-a448-558e-a2c4-466b82acad27).

* (#ulink_848a57fe-9a36-5ecb-8004-753edc4efa83)Made-up wordALERT

“Now I need a volunteer, hands up…!” said the dentist.

All those little hands that had been up were now well and truly down. To avoid any confusion, Alfie shot his hands down to his feet. Any lower and they would be underground. He wanted there to be a less than zero chance that he would be picked.

“Nobody…?” asked Miss Root.

Even the swots and show-offs kept deadly silent.

“Come on, children, I don’t bite!” The dentist smiled and flashed her blindingly white teeth.

“Who hasn’t been to the dentist for a very very long time…?” she purred.

The pupils started whispering to each other and looking around. Soon hundreds of pairs of eyes were glaring at Alfie. Everyone at school had at some point noticed his teeth. They were so bad, they might as well have been a tourist attraction. They could even have their own café and gift shop.

The dentist followed the children’s gaze and fixed her eyes on Alfie.

“Oh yes, I thought it might be you…” Miss Root’s long, thin, gnarled finger pointed straight at him. “You, boy. Come to Mummy…”

When Alfie’s shaking legs finally propelled him to the front of the hall, he looked into the dentist’s eyes for the first time. Miss Root’s eyes were black. Blacker than oil. Blacker than coal. Blacker than the blackest black.

In short, they were black.

The dentist stared long and hard at the boy, before uttering…

“Don’t be scared, child…”