A Resident Of Teeth Park Complains

“Chorus boy!
You peddle insinuating
off-key melodies;
stamp with spite on
enameled floorboards,
claim the Diamond Throne
as your own -“

Aye. You there. Come over here and I’ll tell you a story. You say you can’t sleep? Well, me too – or anyone else in this godforsaken area. There’s no damned sleep for anyone in this neighbourhood tonight, so you might as well give it up. Keep the windows shut, will you? Do you want some hot chocolate? Yes? Ok. There you go.

You know Toby? Good for you. He’s the mayor of this district. A real nice boy with the most adorable cheeks. Mum and Dad love him to bits. He always gets the good grades in school and says his prayers before going to bed. Oh yes. But he never brushes his teeth. What? You say that’s not a problem? Well, it’s not a problem for him, yes – how could a tiny, ineffectual motion cumbersome to sweet Sleep be a considerate problem, considering how inviting the bed can be? But on our terms, he’s ignoring the water pipes that burst and the overflowing garbage in the streets. And that’s a big problem cos he’s just invited some unsavoury people to our lovely neighbourhood. For convenience’s sake, we’ll call them Mr C. and G. Let’s start with Mr C first.

The whereabouts of Mr G have been lost to time, but I’ve gathered a morsel here and there. Mr G was an illegitimate child of unknown origin, who used to hide and shiver in the theater wings eking out a miserable existence as he avoided the Toothbrush Brigade and Toothpaste Legion. I’ve always wondered how this crafty specimen came to be, since he usually remains invisible from prying eyes for most of the time. He’s a bit like the Italian mafioso. Thin mustache, beady eyes, lips forever curled on the edges of a really bad joke that never leaves his mouth, preferring to keep the puns to himself.

But the arrival of another portly and petulant choir boy – blessed with the ignorable name of Messr. C  – saved Mr G’s arse one dark and stormy night. In doing so, he also sealed the fate of Teeth Park. Like any gangster worth his mettle, owning a well-stocked armoury to terrorize the Teeth residents is something they do very well. This terrible anthem is the tune to which they dance to, as they bring a rod swinging onto someone else’s head:

“Rusty saucepans,
holey drums,
the booming and
our favourite
of all time –
the pneumatic drill!”

By god, I hate that drill… It makes the whole neighbourhood vibrate on its rollies, shakes the dentures out of them old folkies and scares the noisy macaws out of the trees! I can’t sleep with them making all this racket at 3 in the morning! Argh! Well, you know…this reminds me of the good old days, flanked with  picture-ready sunsets and morals to match. The Toothbrush Legion and Toothpaste Brigade would make their daily patrols every night, watching out for these particular two troublemakers… but ever since Toby stopped brushing his teeth, they have no need to fear fluoride bullets, or the Mouthwash Of Peril. Why, you ask? Let me show you something, son. These cheeky rascals pinned this note to the board outside the police station last night. They are the end of us, I tell you. Not unless we do something.

“Who cares
for triclosan tear gas
or abrasives,
when you’ve got
pure sugary corruption?”

That’s not all. Have you seen Ms. H? She’s that odd lady with the sky-high bouffant, thinking that she’s still stuck in 1969. You’ve probably seen her dumpster diving in the late afternoons, or trying to woo terrified teenagers with her questionable amorousness. There’s no mistaking that horrid dress sewn with sequins of moss-green and spittle-flecked diamonds, sashaying down the red carpet like some phony Marilyn Monroe. She nearly set her pitbull on me once when I yelled at her to keep away from my trash bin. Good lord! I can’t remember when Toby sold his dear soul to the donut shop down his street.

I tell you, his mum’s obviously spoiled him with too much liquorice and gummy bears. You know, I have this suspicion that maybe his mum is Satan in disguise. If his mum is really Satan, then what on Earth is his Dad doing to him?!

© Zelda Reville


 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

18 thoughts on “A Resident Of Teeth Park Complains

      1. We do come from the same place, creatively speaking, which is probably why I enjoy your philosophy and Zen posts very much! There’s so much passion that runs in them words, which seems to be getting rarer these days. I think Robert would agree with that as well!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. My passion for Japanese culture IS indeed long term and deep. My PhD, Master’s degree, and Graduate Diploma in Asian Studies all focused on Japanese topics I became passionate about while living in Japan, and/or visiting Hokkaido for the first time.

        Asia is an amazing continent, with so many diverse and fascinating cultures, languages and creative forms. I really really LOVE Asia!

        Liked by 1 person

      3. When I first went to Japan (Hokkaido 1995) I fell in love with the country. And when you love something you spend all day and night considering it and imagining ways to improve and commit to it even more deeply. So for me at least it never was a dream at all, rather a way of Life. Thus it is like you said: this has all been a pathway I forged before me, for myself.

        The reward was always immediate: thinking about Japan made/makes me so happy, all the other things are extra benefits (the Big Dream: living in Japan, getting a black belt in judo in Japan, learning Japanese, spending many many weekends in Kyoto, and so on).

        So in that sense, I have never had Big Dreams that I fantasized about. I lived my Big Dream by enjoying something I could do for free at any moment: think about Japan., like I always loved playing the saxophone and because I did it so much I achieved what you might also call the “Big Dream” of playing all over the world, foten with famous people. But I never dreamed of playing all over the world. I LOVED playing the saxophone all day and that was all I needed to make me happy forever.

        I would say the same about your writing. By the way you write (and how frequently) I get the sense that you are the same. You love writing, and would do it as you are forever, even if you don’t win awards and such, because you are writing from a place that is pure of heart: passionate about writing, as opposed to passionate about getting attention (becoming famous) through writing. If you won a Pulitzer Prize I think your acceptance speech would be about how you just wanted to write all day and night!

        Passion and curiosity are free and anyone can have their “dreams” come true when they stop seeking outer things (awards, prizes, achievements) and live in the joy of “being”: “being a writer, thinking about words, reading poetry online or from books (free from the library), etc.

        I think both YOU and I could be called the “living epitome” of the REAL dream: free soul satisfaction within… which is them expressed in the arts! 🙂

        Like

  1. What makes this story poetic prose is how you managed to interweave poem & story to fit structurally visual and visceral.

    Amazingly well written poetic story and I found myself in your mind as you felt what you we’re writing. Also, love your title…it is creatively brilliant. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

      1. Thank you for the advice. I always have this see-sawing worry that whatever I write is too cryptic or ???? for others to understand, so your poetry is a huge beacon of light in the art of not giving a fuck (and still getting away with it).

        I quite liked the latest one you did, although…what does MKOFTEN stand for? I think I need to hit up the internet for a blind date with this one!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. This is interesting…thanks for the link. I was looking into Nixon’s Watergate incident last night and this really, really is up my path. Would occultists really be the beacon of light for the path ahead?

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s