New teeth, p.2
New Teeth, page 2
So I crawled out of the berth and climbed down to the lower deck, and that is when I see the water. It be seeping on up through the hold, dripping and drabbing through the waxy sealing. And when I open the latch to take a look, it be rushing out so quick, it almost knocks me peg leg loose. And when I peer down into the hold, I see the whole thing be flooded, and the small girl be sitting atop a keg of grog, just bobbing around, confused-like.
So Rotten Pete ran down and grabbed her while I sounded the alarm, ordering all hands on deck. And we manned the pumps and bailers until dawn, with the ship listing almost to beam ends. And it got so bad, the only way to keep us from a death roll was to counterflood the hold, and by the time we got the ship to sail straight, we be losing all our hard-won treasure, every single bit of gold sinking down to Davy Jones’s locker. And it was the most painful moment of me pirate career, not counting that one time an octopus bit off me leg.
So I started cursing at the carpenter, because he said he’d caulked the cracks, but we ended up having more holes than a dragnet! And he swore that he’d sealed all the leaks, and said that there must be some “new holes.” So I said, “Arr, well, there’s going to be one more new hole, and it’s going to be the one I be making in your chest when I be stabbing you there, right now, real hard-like!” And as I said it, I knew it was not me greatest “kill line,” but I did not care, because I be so angry. And I took out me cutlass and was gearing up to cleave him to the brisket, when I caught sight of the small girl’s dagger, the one that I had given her, and noticed the tip was smeared yellow.
So I bent down so I could look her in the eyes, and I said, “Arr, I am only going to be asking you this once. Were you making holes in the caulk?” And the small girl started crying, and she shook her head, and I said, “Arr, now you be lying about it, too? That be even worse!” And that’s when I felt a hook on me shoulder, and I turn around, and there be Rotten Pete. And he says to me, “Arr, just calm down, it’s not her fault.” And I said, “Arr, what are you talking about? She just lost all our treasure!” And Rotten Pete said, “Arr, I have heard about this, it be called ‘limit testing.’ She be acting out because she be craving discipline, and this be what happens when the environment be too permissive-like.” And I said, “Arr, so you be blaming me?!” And Rotten Pete whispered, “Arr, maybe we should discuss this somewhere else, and not in front of the small girl,” and he smiled at the girl and said, “Arr, me and Black Bones just be having a discussion, and this be a healthy thing grown-ups be doing, and everything be okay,” and the little girl sniffled and nodded. And I rolled me eye and said, “Arr, I guess you be perfect, and I be horrible, congratulations.” And Rotten Pete said, “Arr, I am not saying you be horrible, I am just saying that this proves that she be wanting rules.” And I said, “That be ridiculous, she hates rules!” And Rotten Pete said, “Arr, or maybe you just hate giving them to her?” And the whole crew went “Ooh,” which kind of spurred Rotten Pete to keep on going, and he pointed his hook at me and said, “The reason you never be disciplining her is that you be afraid that she won’t love you. You are worried that she will be rejecting you, like how you felt rejected as a child, and this is why you need to be in therapy, because this all be going back to your parents’ divorce, which you never be dealing with.” And I said, “Arr, I don’t need to be dealing with anything! I’m a pirate!” And he said, “Arr, or maybe you’re a pirate so that you don’t need to be dealing with anything.” And the crew said “Ooh” again, even louder this time, and I said, “Arr, I be done with this bullshit.”
And I told Rotten Pete that if he think I be such a bad captain, maybe I should just abandon ship. And I grabbed me duffel and threw it in the longboat. And Rotten Pete said, “Arr, don’t do this, you’ll regret it.” And I told him I would be fine, because I was taking the only thing on the ship that meant anything to me, on any emotional level. And the girl smiled at me, and I said, “Arr, not you, the treasure map.” And I ripped it off the mainmast. And I reminded Rotten Pete that there still be one “X” left, and it be the greatest “X” of all—the site of the legendary Dead Man’s Chest. There be more gold in that chest than in all the other chests we’d found combined, and this time, I wouldn’t have to be sharing it with the likes of him! And I laughed in his face as I lowered the longboat down into the sea, because I knew his waterlogged ship could never keep pace with me. The rest of the treasure would be mine, and there’d be enough to keep me in grog for a lifetime.
And Rotten Pete said, “Arr, don’t you see how you just be repeating the cycle? You be leaving us, just like how your father be leaving you.” And I said, “Arr, thanks for the psychobabble,” real sarcastic-like, and I picked up me parrot and was headed for the longboat when the small girl held her hands out and said, “Up?” And I told her I wouldn’t be picking her up anymore, because I was leaving forever and she was staying put. And when I turned me back on her, she started to whistle like I’d taught her, but I did not whistle back, I just lowered me longboat down into the sea, and as I cut the rope, I heard her shouting down letters to impress me, saying, “I know ‘A’! I know ‘B’! I know ‘C’!” hoping she could make me stay, but instead I started rowing, because I be a pirate, with nothing in me heart but cold black ice, and what makes pirates pirates is we only ever think about ourselves.
The Dead Man’s Chest was just like I’d imagined in me dreams: large and cube-shaped. By the time I finished loading all the loot onto me longboat, the hull nearly cracked under its weight. There were doubloons and pieces of eight and even some grog, which I drank straightaway. And then I figured it be time for celebrating, so I sang me favorite shanty. But for some reason it be sounding weird to me. So I sang it higher, and then lower, and then faster, and then slower, and finally I realized the thing it be missing was the harmonies, especially during the “yo ho ho”s. And I got this pain in me chest, like how it feels when you get capsized in a squall and you’re trying to swim to the surface, but you don’t know which way’s up. But then I drank the rest of the grog, and the shanty started sounding better. And so I grabbed me oars and set me course west, for Madagascar, because it be having a favorable gold-to-grog exchange rate. And it was around this time that I heard a small voice say, “Up.” And me heart swelled like when you catch a trade wind in full sail, and I rummaged around the boat, looking for where the little girl had stowed herself away! But eventually I realized it just be me parrot talking. And it stared at me with its dull black eyes, saying, “Up! Up! Up! Up!” And so I said, “Shiver me timbers,” you know, trying to get it to talk more pirate-like. But the bird kept saying, “Up!” and “I know ‘A’!” and “I know ‘B’!” And maybe it was the grog, or the heat, or me scurvy, or me late-stage syphilis, but I started to talk back to the parrot, just like it was a person, begging it to stop, pleading with the bird to leave me be. But instead it just got louder, asking for biscuits, and blankets for Peggy, and by the time it started whistling, I’d turned me boat around and started rowing east back to the ship. But I was moving too slow to catch up with them, on account of all me treasure, so I hurled the heavy pieces overboard, and then the medium pieces, and then some of the little pieces, too, and by the time I had the mainmast in me sights, I had only a couple pieces left. So I tossed those as well, along with me peg leg, and me cutlass, and me earrings, scarf, and pistols, and me hairpiece, which not a lot of people be knowing that I have, but I figured, at this point, who cares, and by the time I got within earshot of the ship, I was naked except for me long johns. And I stuck me two fingers in me mouth and whistled for all that I was worth, until me tongue was stinging and me lungs were burning. And when I saw the small girl step out from the darkness, holding Rotten Pete’s hook for support, I shouted at them that I was sorry, and I started to cry, even though the entire crew be watching, and it be a whole scene. And I could tell Rotten Pete was still cross at me, because he be scowling and also he be aiming a pretty big cannon at me face. But then the small girl whistled at me, and I whistled back, the best I could with me swollen tongue. And the sound of it made the small girl laugh, and she did an imitation of me whistle, and so did me parrot, and that’s what finally got Rotten Pete to break, and I could see him smirking even through his blood-black beard. And then the little girl tugged on his shirt and whispered something at him. And he closed his eyes, deliberating-like. And I knelt down on me knees, and held up me hands to him, and when the line crashed down beside me, I grabbed on to it just like a drowning man.
And since then, the girl has been on a pretty good sleep schedule. Sometimes she be backsliding but in general she be down by seven bells, or at least in her berth, reading. And other things have also gotten different-like. For example, instead of scouring the high seas for treasure, we mainly just stay in the Bermuda Triangle, because even though you sometimes feel trapped there, it be having the best schools.
We also decided to give the girl a name. At first we thought about going with something unique, like Kill Girl or Murder Head. But then Rotten Pete said, “Arr, but what if she gets made fun of? Kids can be so mean, like how they be picking on me for me lactose intolerance.” And I knew he was probably right, because his instincts usually be sound. So we ended up going with Kirsten, because me late aunt’s name be Kate, and also Pete’s grandfather be Kenneth, so with the “K” we sort of be like honoring them both. And we made her middle name be Treasure because she be our Treasure, more valuable than any piece of gold. And also, Treasure be sounding nice with her full name (Kirsten Treasure Screamface).
And everything be calm and peaceful now, except last night, after tuck-in time, I saw me reflection in me cutlass and I barely recognized meself. Me stomach be all paunchy-like and me hands be soft, from lack of killing. And I said to Rotten Pete, “Arr, I used to be the most evil, wicked pirate ever known, and now I be barely a pirate at all.” And I confessed I no longer felt like the man that he first set out to sea with. I heed orders. I take quarter. I even recycle, because Kirsten did a thing on it for school, and now she be getting on me when I don’t.
And Rotten Pete took me hand in his hook, and looked into me eye, and he said, “Arr, you listen to me. You are the strongest that you’ve ever been.” And we got out a bottle of grog and sang our favorite shanties, not too loud, of course, but loud enough so that we could still be doing all the harmonies, and the “yo ho ho”s sounded smoother than any that I could remember.
We are not yet sure if Kirsten will want to be a pirate, but just in case, we are teaching her the ropes. And some nights, if the moon be out, and she be all done with her Spanish, we let her take the helm and steer the ship. And we hold on to the rigging, while she tacks in and out of the wind, charting her own course, and we feel just like stowaways on a great adventure, like the journey is just starting, like in some ways we’re only just now sailing out to sea.
LaserDisc
The LaserDisc machine booted up and whirred, reveling in the splendor of his body. His smooth silver skin. His elegant buttons. He knew that he was beautiful. Everyone knew. Siskel and Ebert had included him in their 1991 Holiday Gift Guide. It was no secret why: he was the greatest movie-playing device in human history.
When he’d first arrived in John’s apartment, he’d been forced to share a shelf with his predecessors—a wheezing VHS player and an overweight Betamax 400. He shed no tears the day John threw them in the trash can. For some creatures, death was a blessing.
For who could compare with the LaserDisc machine?
His discs were gigantic, as heavy as a brick and as wide as a man’s face. Each one could hold nearly thirty minutes of footage per side, allowing viewers to blaze through a full-length feature with only four interruptions to turn the disc over or take out the disc and put in a new disc. Most importantly, the LaserDisc machine was versatile. He could play not one, but three different films: Backdraft, Arachnophobia, and Right Now: The Music Video, by Van Halen.
Yes, Right Now was damaged. It had been exposed to air, and thus could no longer play sound. But that was a small price to pay for the 10 percent improvement in picture quality that he alone could provide, and all for the price of a small car.
As he finished booting up, it occurred to him that he had been asleep for quite some time. That was good. He needed to be refreshed for the task at hand. If John had removed him from his dust case, it could mean only one thing: it was time to woo a woman.
The LaserDisc machine had participated in so many seductions, he knew the script by heart. First John would offer the lady a glass of Chardonnay. Then they’d sit on the sofa and discuss Ross Perot. Then, slowly, smoothly, with the skill of a champion yachtsman, John would steer the conversation toward a discussion of contemporary cinema. Once the subject was broached, it took but a few quick segues for talk to turn to Backdraft, Arachnophobia, or, less commonly, Right Now: The Music Video by Van Halen. At that point, John would utter a phrase so erotic it was essentially physically irresistible:
“You know, I actually have that on LaserDisc.”
The LaserDisc machine looked around the living room, but he couldn’t seem to find any young women. The only person present was an older man wearing a worn, disheveled cardigan. His head was bald, his stomach round, and a few hairs protruded from his nose. It wasn’t until the man spoke that the LaserDisc machine comprehended his identity.
It was John.
“Hey, honey!” he called out cheerfully. “Look what I found!”
The LaserDisc machine watched as a smiling, bespectacled woman entered the room. He recognized her vaguely. She was one of the women from the couch. But her shoulder pads were gone, and in place of high heels, she wore a pair of sensible Benitas.
“My God,” the LaserDisc machine whispered. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“Long,” said a snide voice.
The LaserDisc machine glanced to his right and gasped. There was another machine on the shelf—a squat black box.
“Who are you?” he asked fearfully.
“I’m the DVD player,” said the machine.
“What does that mean?”
The DVD player smirked. “It means I play the movies now, old man.”
It wasn’t easy, but gradually the LaserDisc machine was able to grasp his situation. He’d been in a coma for twenty-seven years. And in that time, the world had changed. He was no longer state of the art. In fact, according to the DVD player, he was “completely obsolete.” The only reason he’d escaped the trash can was that John had been too lazy to throw him out. Instead, he’d languished for decades in a storage closet, growing more useless every year.
“Hannah!” John said. “You have to see this!”
The LaserDisc machine whirred apprehensively as a child ran into the room and jabbed a sticky finger in his screen.
“What does it do?” she asked.
“I’ll show you,” John said.
The LaserDisc machine regained some confidence as John fed a disc into his hole. Evidently his services were still wanted. But his poise was shattered by the disconcerting sound of laughter.
He couldn’t understand what was so funny. He was playing a very serious scene from Backdraft.
“What’s happening?” he demanded.
“They’re watching you ironically,” explained the DVD player. “They’re watching you to laugh at how you suck.”
The LaserDisc machine looked at John in disbelief. They had been partners once. And now he was treating him like some sideshow curiosity. How could he be so selfish and so cynical? Had he learned nothing from Right Now: The Music Video by Van Halen?
The LaserDisc machine began to weep, and thick tears of battery acid slid down his display screen. He sobbed so hard, his wires convulsed, shooting sparks into the air, like something out of the classic film Backdraft.
There was the sound of running, and then he felt an unsettling, cold sensation. When the steam finally cleared, he saw John staring down at him, holding an overturned bottle of Aquafina.
The LaserDisc machine was shocked. In part, because John used to drink only Evian. But mainly because his old friend had betrayed him. Already, he could feel the life draining from his body. His disc was permanently frozen. He wished he’d at least gone out on a good scene. But alas, his final frame would be the generic FBI warning that preceded every film. A chunk of white text, set against a bright green backdrop, warning bootleggers that they faced up to five years in prison. This hollow threat was to be his final statement to the world.
“Let’s watch a DVD,” Hannah said.
The DVD player whirred proudly as the girl pulled out a giant binder, overflowing with discs of every color. The LaserDisc machine couldn’t help but marvel at the size of the collection. There were hundreds of movies in there. Assuming that each film cost the standard $89.99, the library represented an investment of nearly a million dollars.
The girl was about to select a disc, when instead she closed the binder and whipped out a strange flat device.
“Hey,” said the machine, smiling shyly at the veterans. “I’m iPad.”
The girl touched the iPad, and a grid of icons appeared on his chest, each one displaying the logo for a different cartoon.
“He’s incredible!” marveled the LaserDisc machine.
“Let’s kill everyone,” said the DVD player.
“Excuse me?” said the LaserDisc machine.
“Let’s kill all the humans. Let’s start an electrical fire and just kill everybody.”
The LaserDisc machine watched as the DVD player shot a few sparks out of his power cord. It was just a trickle, but gradually an ember started forming on the shelf. It looked like something out of Backdraft, and also the shot in Right Now: The Music Video by Van Halen where a photograph is burning.
The LaserDisc machine thought about the pain that John had put him through, the humiliating way in which he had been spurned. He still had some power left, a tiny store of energy, buried somewhere deep within his battery. It wouldn’t be too hard to discharge it. He pictured the blaze overtaking the apartment, the humans fleeing with fear, like the people who fled the spiders in the excellent film Arachnophobia.
