The Father of Teeth
Text for today: I Pulp lxxxix-cviii
Many centuries earlier, in a somewhat different city, the Father of Teeth set up his stall with a great pulley to one side which was visible from one end of the market-place to the other. All the apothecaries came to stare at it, and some of them scattered powders made of rats' dung and the toenails of the deservedly disembowelled, in order that their own stalls might be purified of the sight.
One day there came to the Father of Teeth a known eccentric who was planning a long trip to escape the malice of his neighbours.
"What harm have they done you?" asked the Father of Teeth, throwing a new rope over the pulley and testing it for strength.
"They say I have a demon," said his grey-bearded customer; "a voice that speaks only to me, and induces me to do strange things, against all that is acceptable to the true gods of the city. They say I have made burnt offerings to this demon, thereby insuring that the smoke of the fires and the pleasant smell of burning flesh is denied the true gods, to whom they rightfully belong."
"And are these accusations true?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"Sort of," said the blasphemer. "But now I am afflicted with a raging toothache, and Yah Wah - my demon, I think that's his name - although he has made a number of other promises concerning real estate and the breeding of heirs, can't do a thing about it."
"Open wide," said the Father of Teeth; and attaching one end of the rope to the rotten tooth by means of a cunning device constructed from the mandibles of a giant and highly persistent species of centipede, threw his weight and some incantations upon the other end. The patient was lifted several inches off the ground, and joined the pulley in a melodic chorus of squeaks. The tooth, however, persisted in its attachment, doubtless owing to some hidebound refusal to recognise that life is change, or simply because it had nowhere else to go. Many strenuous and noisy jerks of the rope were necessary before the stubborn molar could be persuaded to part company with the unfortunate blasphemer's gums, whereupon the said blasphemer was deposited in an undignified heap beneath the pulley while the erstwhile instrument of his agony dangled small, brown and bloody above his head.
"There is no doubt a lesson, as well as a fang, to be drawn here," began the Father of Teeth; but the blasphemer had already uncrumpled himself and handed over no more than the necessary silver before hastening out of the market-place. Owing no doubt to his new and unaccustomed state of oral comfort, his thanks were indistinct.
A little later, the Father of Teeth heard that the blasphemer had finally emigrated, so he ground the detached molar to a sandy-looking powder which he sold in small sachets to the priests of the city's true gods as an aid to their potency, taking care to caution them against the risks of an overdose.
Many centuries earlier, in a somewhat different city, the Father of Teeth set up his stall with a great pulley to one side which was visible from one end of the market-place to the other. All the apothecaries came to stare at it, and some of them scattered powders made of rats' dung and the toenails of the deservedly disembowelled, in order that their own stalls might be purified of the sight.
One day there came to the Father of Teeth a known eccentric who was planning a long trip to escape the malice of his neighbours.
"What harm have they done you?" asked the Father of Teeth, throwing a new rope over the pulley and testing it for strength.
"They say I have a demon," said his grey-bearded customer; "a voice that speaks only to me, and induces me to do strange things, against all that is acceptable to the true gods of the city. They say I have made burnt offerings to this demon, thereby insuring that the smoke of the fires and the pleasant smell of burning flesh is denied the true gods, to whom they rightfully belong."
"And are these accusations true?" asked the Father of Teeth.
"Sort of," said the blasphemer. "But now I am afflicted with a raging toothache, and Yah Wah - my demon, I think that's his name - although he has made a number of other promises concerning real estate and the breeding of heirs, can't do a thing about it."
"Open wide," said the Father of Teeth; and attaching one end of the rope to the rotten tooth by means of a cunning device constructed from the mandibles of a giant and highly persistent species of centipede, threw his weight and some incantations upon the other end. The patient was lifted several inches off the ground, and joined the pulley in a melodic chorus of squeaks. The tooth, however, persisted in its attachment, doubtless owing to some hidebound refusal to recognise that life is change, or simply because it had nowhere else to go. Many strenuous and noisy jerks of the rope were necessary before the stubborn molar could be persuaded to part company with the unfortunate blasphemer's gums, whereupon the said blasphemer was deposited in an undignified heap beneath the pulley while the erstwhile instrument of his agony dangled small, brown and bloody above his head.
"There is no doubt a lesson, as well as a fang, to be drawn here," began the Father of Teeth; but the blasphemer had already uncrumpled himself and handed over no more than the necessary silver before hastening out of the market-place. Owing no doubt to his new and unaccustomed state of oral comfort, his thanks were indistinct.
A little later, the Father of Teeth heard that the blasphemer had finally emigrated, so he ground the detached molar to a sandy-looking powder which he sold in small sachets to the priests of the city's true gods as an aid to their potency, taking care to caution them against the risks of an overdose.
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