Sweet Tooth

A man held his wallet in one hand. He gazed upon all of us. His eyes scanned the shelves of us, right here at the counter. We were grouped by type, kind, color, name. Each one of us similar, and sometimes exactly the same, whether by name or what we contained, what we were. Each one of us just like the others in our group. Each one of us dressed the same, dressed in a sheath that crinkled upon being touched, dressed in a sheath that parted upon being torn. Each one of us identical. Each one of us filled with what he wanted. He looked the type to grab three or four at once. His fingers traced our outsides, dragging along the row, trying to decide. 

He gazed upon all of us, his eyes hungry. Drool collected at the corners of his mouth. Licking his lips, he ran his pointer finger along the first row. I could feel those above me shiver under his touch. The sound of crinkling clothing interrupted the near-silent air. There were people behind him who weren’t with him. They were waiting. He couldn’t decide. 

He picked up one, then put it down. 

He picked up another, then put it down. He could always get one more. 

They always did. 

A line began to form behind him, ready to purchase gasoline for their cars, ready to pay for a giant bottle of water, ready to pay for a slice of pizza or a pack of beer. The line was quickly becoming longer, but this man… he wasn’t paying attention, instead listening to the salivating of his own mouth.

They were all waiting as he took his time choosing which one of us would be his. They waited, and they waited. His finger ran along the next line, second from the counter, hovering above me. My flesh shuddered under the heat from his hand as his palm ghosted over my body. He wrapped the fingers and palm of his hand around me, picking me up. My flesh immediately began to feel as though I was melting.

He opened his wallet and peeled out a one dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

Sliding the dollar bill facedown on the counter toward the cashier, he smiled a toothless smile. The cashier scanned me with a beep, popped open the cash register, and slid the dollar into its drawer. The cashier scanned me with a beep, popped open the cash register, slid the dollar into its drawer, and slid me toward the man on the counter.

This man picked me up. I was all he wanted. Just me. I didn’t know why. He seemed like the type of man who would want many, many of us at the same time. He seemed like the type who would collect us in a car on a hot day and forget about us until our flesh had completely melted into muddy soup. 

I was the only one he picked. Just me.

He clenched me in his fist, the palm of his hand warm. I was already becoming squishy. My body felt like it would break in two. There were indents from his fingers in my flesh. Heat from his hand destroyed my skin. Those fingers held me for mere seconds, yet they still destroyed me. His hand was hotter than the room. It was hotter than the room, and the rest of us watched in wait as he left, waiting for someone to pick more of us, waiting for the mastication.

He took me outside. Rain pounded on the sidewalk, the back of his head, his clothes, making his clothing stick to his body and making my sheath slippery between his fingers. Standing in wetness, a mud puddle and water droplets, he found the weakest point in my crinkly, shiny clothing. Using his teeth, he bit the part he wanted to tear, then used knotted fingers to pry my robe apart. Tearing at my clothes, he peeled off the sheath using his teeth, and discarded it on the ground. He watched my clothing blow away in the cold breeze, colorful material skirting away on the ground before being swept upward and into the road. It disappeared in a tornado of green and orange, swirling around before being caught in the underneath of a truck.

My flesh was a milky, a deep brown color. There were fingerprints in my skin. Some of it was left on the clothing he’d torn off me. He’d torn off a part of me with the sheath, leaving bare spots on my skeleton. My skin was soft and smooth with a swirl of stiff, white hair in my stomach. 

His eyes were glued to me — such a hard stare. They were hungry. Deep, muddy green eyes stared at me. A toothless smile ghosted across his lips, his eyes sparkling. Never had I seen such hunger. It was my turn. I was stiff, watching him. That stare was of someone struggling with the idea of tossing me away… or, the other thing. That stare was of someone with a paunch, with diabetic toes and fingers, wondering what they should do with me.

What should he do with me?

“Well, I did pay for you….”

Pay for me? Just like everyone did, everyday, some tossing coins on that counter and watching them clink against each other. He paid in cash. Usually, it was water. Usually, it was gas. This time, this time it was me. Some people paid with cash, some people paid with a card, and other people didn’t pay at all, thinking they could walk away without being noticed. Most of them weren’t, or the cashiers just didn’t care. Either way, I was bought and paid for, and his mouth salivated for a taste of my body.

Taking my flesh in his mouth, his teeth sunk into me. He tore the first bit of my flesh off. Searing hot pain shot through my body. Licking his teeth, my blood bathed the inside of his mouth. The man coughed. My blood was too sweet. It was sticky — stuck to his molars.

He sank his teeth in me again. Tearing off another bite of my body, he chewed, chewed, and chewed. He masticated longer — a larger bite of my large body in his mouth. Swallowing a part of it, he continued to chew. He continued to manducate. A long, low, humming sound erupted from his throat as his teeth ground into me. Parts of my body he hadn’t swallowed yet I felt his throat trembling. Those parts felt him undulate. Those parts felt him hum.

He was having fun. He was having his way with me. 

My white guts crunched between his yellow and orange, rotting teeth in a mouth that held scraps of it in his gums. Splotches of white decorated the little, munching bones. My stiff insides crunched. It had given me structure — the white stuff. Now, it gives him pleasure. It’s whiter than snow. It’s nutty. It’s hardened. It’s like little grains… little, chewy strips of grains. I can hear the crunching between his orange teeth. He hums. 

Sticky gold flooded from my shell, down his chin as he sucked out what he could. My golden blood clumped hairs from his beard together. He had strands connecting as one. My blood gave his beard an odd shine. He sucked drool back into his mouth between molars and canines. Sticky gold followed, mixing with spit.

Only a smidgen was left of me. I knew this day would come. It always comes for us… for things like us. It’s what we’re made for. Can’t say I’m surprised. It’s what we’re made for.

He split the last part of me in half, sideways, separating my top from my bottom. I wanted it to end… but, he didn’t. Gold bled onto his fingers. He slid a pointer finger into his mouth, sucked on it, then pulled it out. He slid in another, then another, then another, until they were covered in spit and no longer covered in my blood. Popping the rest of me into his mouth, he continued humming, chewing, and humming. He masticated on what was left of me until there was nothing left. 

My flesh had melted into his fingers. He still had some of me on him.

Golden blood stuck together clumps of his black hair, including the hair in his beard. He sucked his fingers again. He sucked his teeth.

Wiping me off on his white jeans, he didn’t care about the splotches he left behind. He didn’t care about the light brown stains that would never come out. He didn’t give a second thought about all I’d given him. He didn’t, taking every sweet treat for granted. He didn’t, because he could always have another… and another… and another. 

All that was left of me were a few brown stains on his white jeans and blue t-shirt, the beginning of another cavity, and the sticking and unsticking of his back molars.