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Rate This Contest Entry: Contest: June 30th, 2005 Author: Camille Seaberry I was five when my mother accidentally told me there was no tooth fairy. As I recall, she was trying to give me logical reasons as to why Santa Claus was real. I found it hard to believe that one man could visit every child in the world so fast, and was beginning to grow skeptical. The best she could come up with was that it wasn’t like he was the tooth fairy or something. She really didn’t mean to, but she said it as though anyone who didn’t believe in Santa Claus was a dim wit, and anyone who did believe in the tooth fairy was just the same. I knew what that meant: there was no tooth fairy. I felt my head spinning. I had been living a lie. “Oh you gullible fool!” I yelled out loud at myself in despair, “Five years on this merciless Earth, and five years so far removed from the truth! I know not what to do now, but wander aimlessly in search of the truth, like a young Don Quixote, so young, so blind.” Such is life. There was a boy in my class at the time who was always trying to kiss all the girls. I liked to play with him, though, when he wasn’t puckering up. One time when I was talking to him on the phone, he mentioned the tooth fairy. I knew it was my duty to inform him that she wasn’t real, so I said to him in calming tones, “My friend, the wool is so far over your young eyes. Oh, that there were some potion that might painlessly bring the truth to you, or you to it, but this dental hygienist sprite is but a sham!” Needless to say, he was shocked and bewildered. My mother overheard, and asked what I was talking about. When I told her, she denied having ever told me any such thing, and pushed me to believe that the tooth fairy was real. “Such fodder you elders feed us malleable children!” I told her angrily, “Mind you, ‘there is no vice that doth so cover a man with shame as to be discovered in a lie,’ quoth Bacon.” I no longer knew what to believe. Being quite curious in nature, I set out to find the truth. Many moons passed. I’d grown up some, an inch or two, perhaps. I’d aged as well. I’d turned six, the age of new schools, lunch boxes, and poly-resin desks, but I’d never forgotten that jarring experience of learning the real nature of things. My life changed when I noticed my first loose tooth. A loose tooth is a very big step in a young person’s life. A severance of the ties with my past, the young, innocent days of preschool, began when that first bloody thread of flesh loosened its grip on my front chomper. That baby tooth was, if you will, my entire life thus far, from my lazy days watching M.C. Hammer videos, to when I learned to read Goodnight Moon, to my first trip to the emergency room, compressed and tangible, and dripping with saliva. The new tooth was infinity, and it scared me, and yet filled me with awe. I kept reciting to myself what old Wordsworth once said, that “heaven lies about us in our infancy,” and remembering how far something so small as a tooth was taking me from that heaven. Poking at your tooth doesn’t really help it along. Neither does twisting it 180° to the delight of your grandmother and the disgust of your mother. Tying a string to a doorknob only works in cartoons. Threats, involving wrenches, made by senior citizens are completely ineffective. The secret solution to tooth removal is lima beans. Lima beans are one of the most disgusting things in the world. On a list with crack-addicts, slimy politicians, and pink eye, they are high ranking. Around the time of my loose tooth, I hadn’t yet told my mother my opinion of lima beans; I hadn’t mustered up the courage. I was thus subjected to eating them for dinner one night. While munching and brooding over my punishment, I felt a little pop. Something had gone awry. I poked around with my finger in my mouth to find the source of the problem. I found a trickle of blood, that stream of life that runs through us all. I spit my mouthful of lima beans into my napkin and, though they were more disgusting coming up than going down, I faced the beans. I dug through and pulled out a tooth, small, hard, and covered in green slop. That night, I left the tooth under my pillow, hoping the tooth fairy would come. I really wanted to believe in her. Lying in bed, I told my six year old self that I was lying on a part of my soul, that I’d separated from myself a chunk of my being, as the female turtle separates herself from her unhatched children, alone on the beach. “Run free, my dear tooth, and grasp all that the mortal world can offer you!” I called under my pillow. That piece of my soul merited me a few coins in the morning, proving the tooth fairy’s existence. I then saw her true purpose: buying children’s souls in installments for candy money. people have rated it so far. is the current average. |
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