"What if I just punch you?", he says, eventually.
"Well alright then, punch! But hurry up, I feel sobriety ticklin the knees, I'll be fucked if I'm gonna fall asleep sober."
He clenches his fist, there's a lengthy pause. "I can't do it, man."
"Oh for gods sakes, come on!"
"No way! You're my best mate! I can't punch you, fuck!"
You'll punch, is what I say. It's that or I'm gonna have to throw myself gainst the rim of the toilet.
Next thing I remember is the bottom teeth puncturing the lip. My mate's all the tortured in the world.
"I can't believe you made me punch you."
"I can't believe that was your punch! My god, I've felt stronger arse-gas."
"Well maybe I was holding back."
"Well maybe you fucking suck!"
Second time, he knocks me to the bathroom floor. I'm looking up, head spinning, that's better, I'm saying, far better. Then, showing my teeth. "Are they gone?"
"Nah, man, but the bottom ones are kinda cracked a bit."
I don't remember much after that, except a couple flashes here and there when the pint-glass was eventually put to use, then the doorstep, then some loose guitar strings that dug trenches into my gums.
Waking up the next morning, mascara round the eyes and down the left side of my face, lip swollen, studying the grotesque reflection.
I didn't make the teeth any better, that's for sure, but certainly the resulting image would've been great on the demo cover, had we been in possession of a camera.
"So that's what it's all about", Sir Fleming says, the video-jukebox turned off by now, a samurai flick playing silently on the screen, Regulate by Warren G pouring out the speakers. "You're talking 'thout opening your mouth cause you don't want her to see your teeth?"
"Aye. That's the crux of the matter."
The very thought.
"But why?"
"But why? Because the reason, Sir Fleming, is that for sure, we arrived in Dublin with nothing more than couple bags, some sleep-enhancers and a few bottles a Diet Coke, but somewhere in there, maybe hidden away amongst those Bright Eyes EP's on the iPod, someplace there's a niggling notion along the lines of Well, maybe Sinéad'll maybe dig a fella. Maybe. The fuck knows?"
Article comments
1 - Bennett
Ohhhhh man! Guitar strings? Love the line about your buddie's punch!
Hell, I yanked my braces out with pliers and wire cutters when I hit 18 because it didn't seem like nothing but mouth torture.
Then smacked out the two front ones anyway on a glass door that didn't open outwards. Caps my man. Caps!
The tale grunges on. I presume we'll hear about Sinead at some point. Looking forward to whatever happens.
Thanks Duke.
2 - Greg Smyth
McMullan, you're a bloody tease! Top notch, though.
3 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Bennett an Greg, thank you!
Bennett, part five should, if all goes to plan, ie, what im thinkin right now with not quite enough caffeine in the system yet, begin to cover those particular bases. i felt all the dentistry stuff was important for to illustrate the array of anxieties runnin rampant.
Greg, thank you, as ever. an apologies for the tease. heh, i couldn't resist...
4 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
ha! a good, wise friend just pointed out the similarities between the teeth scene up yonder an the similar "punch me" scene in Fight Club.
alas, my version weren't fictional. how i wish it were...
5 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
just a note to say Part Five's up, if anyone's at all curious. thanks folks.