Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

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Tag: teeth

The Tooth Fairy Plots

“Just listen,” she said, sounding like the bottle of whiskey she cradled. “When my grampy was young he got a penny for a tooth under his pillow. My nephew today gets a fiver.”


“That’s a hell of an inflation rate. I think the Tooth Fairies know something we don’t know.”

“Ignoring the fact that they don’t exist–”

“Can’t prove that.”

“…it probably points to a change in social norms and a rise in consumerism, or something.”

“No. The Fairies are competing fiercer. Human teeth are about to become a scarce resource. I can feel it in my bones.”

The Rabid Dogs #6 – The Mutt, the Mouse, and the Mule

The hobby psychologist enters. She takes his coat.

The dog has a grimace that I think is supposed to be a smile, all teeth and dribble glistening from the sides of his Winston Churchill cheeks.

She has painted a clownface over her features; there is a frown inside a smile. She tries to make the frown unseeable.

Teeth sharp now, I practice smiling in front of the mirror. Is this a mouse smile?

He takes one look at the dog, then, after all this. “Looks fine to me,” he says, pats him on the head, and leaves without his coat.

The Rabid Dogs #4 – Taurobolium

Bull’s meat is consumed at the top of the stairs

The  butcher has been told to leave the blood in

Juices run, in familiar grooves, down these steps

Trauma bonds us, it binds us, I have never felt closer

than when she picks me up to shield me from the blood and

her camel back breaks, I am in her arms, I feel the spine snap

Every vertebrae clicks out of place, and her screams scale the stairs

where they are met with growling and finely honed teeth and drooling

I want my teeth honed

I am already angrily drooling


There is a statue in Whale Park, inconveniently placed right next to a big wall like some shady dealer. It has too many teeth and they are all too sharp for something that supposedly is modelled on a human being. The statue tells me about my future, if I ask it, two truths about my future plus one lie. It’s always one line about my family, one about money, and one about love.

And I guess this is me, hedging my bets that the one about love was right, because I can’t control my father’s heartrot. Will you marry me?

Trace Fossil

The grey bug burrowed deep into its host’s chest. Crawled and scratched and ate its way down to her heart and the heart stopped. The bug, simple as it was, could simply not comprehend what had happened; what was once a very lively source of heat and joy now lay dead in its arms. So it kept digging. It was in love, plain and simple. It dug until its claws and teeth had worn down to nothingness and then it waited until they grew back and it dug again; through bone, out her back. She was just not there anymore.