The Grinders, Part II

"The Grinders, Part I" 

The moon was a dim wine-red, except for a gleaming bald spot of whiteness shaped like the end of a fingernail. A swollen orange dot --- the god of war --- pierced the black sky. An elongated specter called Hale-Bopp was frozen in the void. It was hard to tell where the nucleus of Hale-Bopp ended and the tail began, and where the tail ended and the infinite cosmos began.

I gazed at Hale-Bopp, Mars and the eclipsed moon from my unrolled backseat window. I watched as they were engulfed in blackness. All that remained was a muddy nugget. They had been gradually swallowed by outdoor fluorescent lights. Neon lights flickered and spelled out the words, "WELCOME TO DOCTOR CATHARTIC'S CARNIVAL! OUR MAIN CONCERN IS FUN! YOU ARE GUARANTEED AN EXPERIENCE YOU WILL NEVER FORGET!"

My mother said, "We're here," as she got out of the car.

I entered the carnival. Graffiti covered the ground, carousels, and animal cages. Tigers could move perhaps three feet in their cramped enclosures. The smell of urine and feces permeated the air near the cages. A little boy carried cotton candy and a balloon. He giggled as he ran past me. A fat woman pursued him. Her hair was filthy and scraggly. The top portion of her hair was grey, and the bottom portion was bleached blond. She wore brown cowboy boots, faded blue jeans, and a black T-shirt. The T-shirt failed to completely cover her pink belly. Every time she took a step, her gut vibrated. Her T-shirt bore the words, "I'M ONE HELL OF AN ENGINEER".

She grabbed the little boy. He squealed as she carried him to a wheelchair. She said, "Sit down and shut up," as she put him in the chair. As she pushed the wheelchair, a young man approached the woman.
The man was gaunt and tall, with dilated hazel eyes. He was bundled up in an orange coat.

He said to the woman, "Hey babe, you gotta light?"

She spat her cigar butt onto the ground. The man picked it up, chewed on it for a few seconds, and discarded it.

No more than fifty people were at the carnival. There was a small group clustered around a tower which had a shack on the top.

I climbed a ladder, making my way up the tower. When I reached the top, I saw a sign which read, "CATHARTIC'S HORROR GAZEBO: ENTER AT THY OWN RISK. BEWAR--" The rest of the sign was covered in graffiti.

I entered the shack. It was made of wooden beams which were painted grey. The only color in the room was on a single wall. Giant sculptures of the heads of a clown fish, a sea turtle, and a gold fish jutted out of this wall. The statues were colored brightly, and their mouths gaped wide.

The woman with the engineering T-shirt entered with her boy. He gasped at the statues. She picked the child up and placed him into the turtle's maw. He began to cry, and she gave him a shove. The child disappeared, and his scream reverberated as he descended down to the unknown. The woman marched away.

A moment later, Titus entered the room. He laughed hysterically when he saw the statues. Soon, the woman and the boy were back. Tears streamed down the child's eyes. Titus grabbed him and carried him toward the gold fish's mouth. The woman yanked the child away and yelled, "You stay away or I’ll call the cops!"

I led Titus out of the horror gazebo, and we encountered our parents. My father seemed cheerful. He smiled, proudly displaying his maize teeth. He photographed almost everything he saw. He had me pose in front of a forty-foot tall white balloon in the shape of clown. The balloon was inside a wooden cage, and was harnessed to the ground.

My dad said to me, "Give a big smile. Come on. What's that grin. It looks like a crease in a baby's butt. . . ."

At first I refused to smile. Finally, I gave in. He said, "That's it. Just how I--"

He paused and hung the camera from his neck. He approached me and said, "Show me your teeth. No. Look at me. Show me your teeth now. When I say `now,' I don't mean two hours from now. I mean now."

I relented, and my father paused. Then in a surprised tone he said, "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this? Carole, look at this! Do you see where I'm pointing? Look!"

My mother erupted into screams. A sudden painful jolt shot through my face. My mother shouted, "Are you completely irresponsible? Can't you--Oh God, no. I slapped you over your rotten teeth!"


The next day, I was herded into a white, brightly lit chamber. I seated myself. Then the dentist came. He was a massive man with red hair covering his head and arms. As soon as I saw him, I had the feeling that we had met before.

The dentist turned his back to me. Then I remembered our earlier encounter. Two years before this, he had been the leader of a mob which nearly beat me to death. The crowd accused me of killing an old man I had never met, and I suspected their leader was the real perpetrator. As soon as I recognized the dentist, I concluded I had no choice but to take revenge for what he had done to me.

How vulnerable the dentist looked, with his back turned to me; how unsuspecting! Didn't he recognize me? Could he be completely off guard?

Since the dentist had short hair and wore a T-shirt, his neck was exposed. A set of medical instruments was on a nearby counter. A pair of golden scissors stood out conspicuously. I was poised to pick up the scissors and slice through the dentist's neck.

At this moment, I was collected. I felt no fear, for I had no desire to escape. I would let myself be captured, and I was prepared to confess to the police. I did not care what would happen after that. At least I would be punished for something I had actually committed, and not for the death of an old man I did not kill.

Cautiously, I positioned my hand over the scissors. I felt like this was predetermined, and that I was acting out a part in a play I had learned by heart. I felt like I had acted this out a thousand times, and this time would be no different from the others, except that now it would be real.

It dawned on me that the dentist had purposely positioned the golden scissors so that I would notice them. He made himself vulnerable because he knew that I was destined to kill him, and there was nothing he could do to stop fate. The fact that I would kill him was as inescapable as theorem by Euclid.

I had visions of my mother screaming upon finding the slain dentist in a pool of blood. I would kiss her on the forehead and tell her this was the way things had to be. Then I would hug her, leaving red handprints on the back of her white dress. After that, all would be well.

Suddenly, the dentist turned around, and I jerked my hand away from the scissors. He said, "Don't touch that! All those instruments have been sterilized for the next patient. Open your mouth."

After the dentist looked into my mouth, he turned his head away and wrinkled his nose. He tried to joke, "I feel sorry for your snacks,” as he plugged his nose. “How did you fracture these teeth?"

"Eating sweets."

"Hard candy will do it to you. How long have these teeth been broken?"

"About a year, I mean a school year."

"A year? I'm not even going to bother with an X-ray. The only times I've seen such decayed molars are when the roots have been devoured by micro-parasites."

The doctor returned with a syringe. He said, "I'm going to give you a shot of novocaine. I'm afraid I have to remove the molars."

I cringed as a needle pressed into my infected gums. The dentist's toad-like face filled my view. When he dislodged the top tooth, my hand shot out and grabbed the scissors. The doctor did not change the expression on his face; he retained the cold, statue-like expression that he always had. I loosened my fingers, and I heard the clinging sound of the scissors striking the floor. The doctor dropped the bloody tooth onto a paper towel, and said firmly and angrily, “I told you those were sterilized. Get up.” He ushered me into another room. There, the dentist completed the operation, shook my hand, and said, "Have a nice day."

The doctor left me in the chair. A few seconds later, I heard him say, "See, see!" I stood up and looked into the waiting room. The dentist towered over my mother like the statue of a tyrant. My mother crouched in her chair, with a timid look on her face. The dentist raised my teeth triumphantly and said, "Do you see this? These teeth fit together at the fracture point like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle." The dentist snorted and continued, "Obviously, he ground his teeth. Pain would stop any normal person from applying enough pressure to make such a large break in healthy teeth. Due to the nature of the decay, I believe his teeth were in reasonable condition before this, just like most of his other teeth."
Then a dark expression crept across my mother’s face. It coiled around her, and dug its claws into her.
The dentist began talking to her in a low voice. I heard him say, “Thought about calling the police, but . . . hard to tell . . .”

A week later, I was committed to a mental hospital.

"The Grinders, Part III"