The Father of Teeth

Text for today: Enamel ccxiv-cclxxviii

A game show host consisting entirely of a pinstripe suit and a glittering grin beseeched the Creator's favour, but as always the Creator was otherwise engaged and the Father of Teeth happened upon the message. Materialising with a bright green puff of luminous halitosis in front of the glittering grin, the Father of Teeth intoned, "What is your wish?" and bared his best celebrity choppers.

The glittering grin answered nothing very coherent, for it was greatly discombobulated at the Father of Teeth's best celebrity choppers, the gums and gaps of which were coated with partially recognisable gobbets of the celebrities in question.

"Come along, come along," said the Father of Teeth, producing a glittering envelope and waving it in the glittering vicinity of the grin's upper incisors, where the nasal septum would have been had the glittering grin fallen heir to such facial advantages. "Is this your prayer?" demanded the Father of Teeth.
"I believe so," stammered the glittering grin.
"It is flattering, no doubt," said the Father of Teeth; "that was a prudent precaution, as the Creator of the universe is notoriously addicted to flattery, not that He has ever felt the slightest obligation to reciprocate in any practical fashion. Nevertheless, your request is so hedged about with confessions of unworthiness and effusions of pre-emptive gratitude that its substance is virtually undetectable."
"Surely the eternal Producer knows my desires before I voice them," stammered the glittering grin.
"Of course," said the Father of Teeth, "but He isn't here, and I am. What is your wish?"
"I'm not made for imparting information," stammered the glittering grin, wishing earnestly for a scoreboard or large microphone behind which to conceal its shame. "I can give away nothing but gadgets and holidays and the like, which some other smile has paid for."
"I'll have to hurry you," said the Father of Teeth.

Now the glitter of the grin dimmed and flickered, and though its hands were made mostly for greeting, it reached up with clawed manicure and desperately rent its puce-and-burgundy bow-tie. "It is against the natural order for you to ask me questions," protested the less-than-glittering grin; "the eternal Producer from His control-room in the sky did not so ordain it."

"Not quite the answer I'm looking for," said the Father of Teeth, while a klaxon shriek proceeded from the quaking uvula of the feebly effulgent grin. Then the suit collapsed in upon itself like a pinstriped premolar whose pulp has turned putrid, and fell to double-breasted dust while the last of the glitter winked out. Only limp lengths of lip remained.

"Out of time, I'm afraid," said the Father of Teeth.