The Lord of the Teeth – The Frenetic of the Teeth

Written by Air of Mystery

Dramatis Personae:

The Characters.

Blowdry Naggins: The hero and Teethbearer. Enjoys breakdancing.
Spamwise Grouchee: Blowdry’s sidekick. Need I say more?
Berry Brandydollar: See Flippin Cook.
Flippin Cook: See Berry Brandydollar.
Narrowlawn/Spider: Heir to the throne of Pondor. Fond of tennis racquets.
Ginmouth the Orange: Blowdry’s grandfather, a wizard.
Pegolas Grinchef: A blonde elf that enjoys flossing.
Trimly: A mad dwarf.
Borrowbeer: Son of Doneitbefore, the Skewer of Pondor.
Cowron: An evil dentist that made the Teeth of Power.
Shallowman the Nut: Head of the Iscary. Evil.

Prologue

The world is changing. I feel it in the toothpaste. I feel it in the dentist’s chair. I smell it in the air. Oh, that’s the fluoride. Yuck.

Much that once was, is lost. And much that once lost, is was. Wait, that didn’t make sense, scratch that.

It all began, with the forging of the great False Teeth of Power. Three, went to the Elves, wisest and toothless of all races. Seven, to the Dwarf Lords, and nine, nine to the men, who above all desire power, freedom to marry anything, and hot dogs.

But the creator of these False Teeth, Cowron the dentist, made another set. Just one other set.

In the land of Lessdor, in the fires of Mt Tooth, he forged a master set, to give to a toothless patient. The patient had gotten a set of elvish false teeth the day before, so Cowron remade the teeth. In them, he poured his hate, his malice, his wish to rule all Middle Jerk, and just a dash of garlic.

One by one, the free peoples of Middle Jerk fell. But some resisted.

They got killed.

Then, some more resisted.

They also got killed.

After a while, the remaining people realised that no one else was going to resist, so they thought, ‘Oh well, we’ll resist anyway!’. It was a Sunday afternoon, and there wasn’t much else to do.

A last alliance of Men, and Elves (the dwarves needed fillings) marched to the slopes of Mt Tooth, where they fought for the freedom of Middle Jerk.

The battle was going reasonably well, (a miracle in itself, considering how bad at fighting Men were) when Cowron appeared. The troops were used to very tall dark lords towering over them, but they couldn’t help being rather intimidated by Cowron’s super-high six-foot wide pink stilettos with the Mona Lisa’s face superglued to them.

The king of Pondor, Barrowdork, was killed by Cowron, who appeared in armour made of a light, but strong material, called chewing gum. His son was supposed to jump up and slay Cowron, but he was in bed with the flu, (Or so he claimed. He was actually having a sleep-over with the dwarves, but that’s another, very disturbing story entirely) so a 17 year-old pizza guy called Isildumb picked up a pizza cutter and cut Cowron’s mouth off (the morgue workers had a pretty interesting time, I can tell you).

The Teeth should have been destroyed, but the hearts, livers, appendixes and stomachs of men are easily corrupted…

The Teeth betrayed Isildumb…to his death…

He was out riding to a dwarvish sleepover, (Does that seem familiar to anybody else?) when a party of forcs (wearing full correct party-attire) shot him in the left leg and produced the most interesting string of swearing that anyone had heard for years. He fell into a river.

Years passed. History became legend, legend became a popular computer game, a popular computer game became a blockbuster movie flop. For ten thousand collector cards, the Teeth passed out of all knowledge.

Rumours came. Talk of a darkly lit street in the east, whispers of a nameless beer…and Teeth perceived (via a radio.)

After years of lying in the same position, the Teeth finally got out of the position, waited until their bedsores disappeared, and looked for a weirdo…an unusual person…someone weak as a piece of balsa wood…

They fell into the hands of the beatnik Swallow, who fled to the confines of the Magazine Mountains, where they consumed him. (Not literally.)

“My precioussssssssss, baby, my own, my love, my preciousssssssssss…”

But the Teeth grew tired of Swallow’s ridiculous poetry, and knew that it was time. They abandoned Swallow, leaving him with only a credit card and a few bills.

But then, something happened the Teeth did not intend.

A very lost hogit named Bimbo Naggings saw them. He moved his now weak hand over to the Teeth.

“What’s this? A set of teeth…”

He and Swallow played a game of ‘Go Fish’, (both of them cheating, obviously) until Bimbo unwittingly yelled out ‘What have I got in my docket’ and ran. Cursing, Swallow jumped at the hogit…

And gave himself bad concussion. (He got up after half an hour, but it took him the better of fifty-seven years to write a heartfelt poem about it.)

“Lost! It had no nametag, baby! Precious!

But the time will soon come, when nametags will shape the future for us all… Or was that hogits…not much of a difference, really…

Chapter One: Bimbo Naggings – Hogit of Mystery

The Spire, sixty years later…

When Mr Bimbo Naggings of Rag Bend told every single hogit in the Spire that he was throwing a birthday party at three eggs a ticket (or five tuning forks, for the hogits over the Dandyline), the entire population made up their mind: they would walk in respectably and come out as bloated and disorderly as possible. Several of them met in the Grey Flagon, the local pub, and discussed the matter continuously. Hogits are the most stupid creatures in the known world (fast food restaurant workers coming in a close second), so this did not register in the slightest bit on their miniscule brains that they were lucky they got to even talk to such a rich old hogit as Bimbo Naggings.

“He’s always been a bit weird, you know.” muttered Dam Grouchee, a burly hogit with several sons and a monobrow to go with them. “He spoke alright, and he sang alright at last year’s Carols by Torchlight, but he goes on about having adventures with drag-ons and cheese and…what was that thing he ate with those seven dwarves and that woman?”

“Crackers?” suggested Old Cokes of Spritewater.

“I think that was it. He’s a bit weird, as I said, and so’s Blowdry Naggings.”

“’im?” asked Candyman the miller. “E’s not quite a Naggings in my opinion, loved the swimming pool till ‘e was nineteen, and ‘e spends entire weeks in the bath. E’s part Brandydollar if I ever saw one. Eyes of great blue and a permanently vacant expression.”

“But that only goes through Cooks these days, don’t it Master Flippin, eh?” asked Ham of a small hogit that had been absent-mindedly staring into space.

“Wha?”

The entire pub laughed.

“Good practice for comic relief, lad. Anyway, this Blowdry lost his parents due to a row over a cheesecake of some sort. They had been drinking (that goes without saying, really, hogits are always drunk) and went out in a boat, fought for ten minutes, then eventually told the other they were going to get their lawyers. They stepped into the water and drowned among the reeds.”

The entire pub gasped, not because of the story, but because of the time.

“It’s Bimbo’s party time!” shouted the barhogit.

“Last one there has to eat pumpkin stew!”

The entire pub cleared out. Hogits hated pumpkin stew.

Blowdry Naggings sat on a table, next to his grandfather. His grandfather’s name was Ginmouth the Orange, and he was a fully-grown wizard with multiple diplomas in many schools of magical arts, plus he charged a low price of three ninety-five a night. Blowdry himself, well, he was a small hogit with big blue eyes and small hands. He constantly wore a piece of mouldy old cheesecake that had belonged to his parents, and he enjoyed breakdancing.

“Speech, Bimbo! Speech!”

Bimbo Naggings got up onto the stage.

“My dear Naggings and Cooks, Pacebardles and Brandydollars, Hoops, Loops, Lawnmowers and Cowfoots.”

“Cowfeet!” shouted a rather old hogit that was using three women as support beams.

“It is my esteemed duty to leave you all annoyed and wondering where I’ve got to.” said Bimbo quickly, and put on something, then vanished.

He walked up to his house, opened the door and began packing.

“I suppose you think that was very clever, don’t you?” Bimbo turned around to see Ginmouth, who was taking things off the sideboard at random and shoving them into his hat (which he claimed held another dimension inside it, but Bimbo suspected that it was just a really big hat).

“It’s just a bit of gum!”

“What?”

“So what I left a piece of gum on your cart?”

“I was referring to what happened just there.”

“Blowdry beating Dom Popadom on the Swaystation?”

“No, the bit about you disappearing. There are many magical teeth in this world and none of them are to be used as can openers!”

“I didn’t use them as a can opener!”

“If you keep them for any longer you soon will! I think you should leave the teeth behind. Is that really hard?”

Bimbo shook his head. “Well, no, and yes.”

“Oh great, now you’re schizophrenic.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t feel like parting with them. They’re mine, they came to me!”

“There’s no need to get hungry!”

“I’m not hung…oh wait, I suppose I am a bit peckish. “

“Would you like some Chinese food?”

“Why not?”

TWO HOURS LATER:

Bimbo and Ginmouth dusted themselves off and stood up again. “Well, where were we?”

“I was saying that there’s no need to get hungry.”

“I’m not hungry anymore! You want them for a Christmas present!”

“BIMBO NAGGINGS! DO NOT TAKE ME FOR A CONJUROR OF CHEAP CHRISTMAS PRESENTS! I AM NOT TRYING TO ROB YOU! I’m trying to help you!”

“Really?”

“No, it’s in the script.” Ginmouth pointed to a small book. A short haired man ran up to it, squinted at Ginmouth, then ran off, along with mutters of ‘can’t happen, can’t happen, script can’t be seen, what will they think, oh what?’ The two looked at each other and decided not to do anything, as do all fantasy characters in such a situation.

Ginmouth sat down and pulled a flask of brandy from his hat (Bimbo may have been mistaken after all) while Bimbo put on his thickest explorer socks. The old wizard was twisting a rubix cube when Bimbo tried to sneak out. This was impossible to do, though, considering the amount of prawn crackers there were lying around.

“Bimbo…” The hogit made the mistake of turning, “The gum is still on my cart and the teeth are still in your pocket…”

“Oh. Can I give you the teeth but not clean your cart?”

“No sale.” Ginmouth took another swig of brandy.

“I’ll throw in this pack of chocolate-coated jam donuts with sprinkles!”

“Sold!”

As Bimbo walked out of the door, Ginmouth grinned. Wizards will do anything for donuts, especially chocolate-coated jam donuts with sprinkles.

Chapter Two: The Shadow of Mad

In which Ginmouth decides to avoid mac-and-cheese.

When Bimbo had left, Ginmouth had a good look at the Teeth. A large, flaming Tooth appeared when he touched them.

“Man,” thought Ginmouth. “I gotta stop buying mac-and-cheese from that guy at the Gap of Rowboat Banana Republic.”

Blowdry appeared a few minute later, wearing a large orange wig, singing “Yes, We Have No Mithril’. He looked at the Teeth, then touched them. There was a shout, and Ginmouth turned around to see Blowdry hopping around with pain, as the teeth had forcefully attached themselves to…well, it’s not a very nice place for evil teeth to bite you. Blowdry grappled with the Teeth for three minutes before they let go. He sunk into a chair, then moaned.

“That is going to show.”

“Quit yer whining, fuzzball. Bimbo’s gone. He left you Rag Bend.”

Blowdry shrugged. “At least he’s doing some use now. Where’d he go?”

“To see the elves. To annoy the elves, more like. He’ll go on some mission they want him to do.” Blowdry edged away.

“Oh, yeah, I need to tell you something.”

“If this is about the tooth fairy…”

“No, it’s not.” Ginmouth picked up the Teeth. “See these?”

“The novelty dentures with a fake-gold and aluminum-foil cover?”

“Careful, kid, these teeth are evil. Reaal evil.”

Blowdry looked at Ginmouth. “Have you been drinking?”

The wizard’s swagger provided an easy answer for the hogit.

“Good, you haven’t.” (In case you haven’t noticed, Blowdry’s a bit dim.)

Ginmouth took another look at the Teeth, then said he had to go.

“I need to see if those teeth were made by Cowron.”

“Who?”

“You’ll know all about him later on.”

Ginmouth got onto his cow and rode off into the sunset, strategically placed to ride off in, even in the middle of the night.

Blowdry waved goodbye, then went back inside to play electronic pinball.

Ginmouth rode to Plus Tinsel, where he was checking out Crazy Magazine issue 5757 of the First Age: We flush the Kilmarils and Feanbore! After he read about Alfoot A. Nougat three times, he went to Isildumb’s diary.

Got teeth of power. But v. sad lost red marks on teeth that could swear only activate when you light a barbecue. Oh well. Will go to the pub.

Later: HE HE HEEE! Swirly forcies, swirly swirly arrowsss! HE HEEEEE! Urrgghhhh.

“Hmmmmmmmm…” hmmed Ginmouth, who had been occupied with the flipbook version of The Spillthebeansion. He then left the diary out, and rode off on his cow, which had been eating corn flakes.

Later that night, Blowdry saw Ginmouth at his house.

“Hi grampa. Got me anything?”

“A portable barbecue, but I gotta do something first.”

Ginmouth got the false teeth and put them on the barbecue, and waited.

For an hour, nothing happened.

“Oh, forgot to turn it on!”

Ginmouth turned the barbecue on, then picked up the Teeth, and handed them to Blowdry.

“Can you see anything on the Teeth?”

“Nope. Wait…they says something in some form of Pig Latin. I don’t know the words.”

“There are few who do. It is the Pig Latin of Lessdor, which I will not utter here. In the common tongue, it’s:

Three sets for the pansy elves in the arcades,

Seven for the dwarfs and an ice-cream cone,

Nine for the disco men, with glittering spades,

One set for the dentist on his soft plastic throne,

In the land of Lessdor where the fish are fried.

One set to chomp them all,

A bad attitude to wind them,

And PVA glue to bring them all and in the dampness mind them.” Seeing the confused look on Blowdry’s face, Ginmouth explained.

“Cowron wrote this to scare off anyone who would pinch the teeth. Unfortunately, the language of Lessdor is long forgotten and only known by Cowron himself.”

“That’s weird.”

“How weird?”

“Very weird.”

“How very?”

“Very very.”

“Very very very?”

“Hey, don’t use up your ‘very’ quota.”

“If Cowron gets this, we’re toast.”

“Who’s Cowron?”

“Very evil dentist.”

“All dentists are evil.”

“This one’s very evil. Almost destroyed the world over a set of teeth.”

“So what do we do?” asked Blowdry, who put a lollipop in his mouth. “Keep them hidden? Never speak of them again? No one knows they’re here, do they?”

“I looked everywhere for the beatnik Swallow, but the enemy got to him first. Beneath the bad poetry and rambling about rabbits, they found two words.”

In Lessdor: Spire! Naggings! 61, Bothknee road, Hogiton. Dig it!

“That’s eight words.”

In Lessdor: Shut up!

“If Cowron gets this, then the whole world falls to his power.”

“Oh. So it isn’t good, is it?”

Ginmouth stared.

“Ginmouth…Are you there?”

“Wha? Oh yeah, I’m here, whatever. I’m gonna go to Shallowman, he’d know what to do. I want you to take a train to the village of Spree. Make for the inn of the Prancing Elephant.”

“The Teeth will be safe there?”

“I don’t know, Blowdry.”

There was a rustling noise from the bushes.

“Come out, come out, whatever you are!” Ginmouth pointed his liquorice staff at the bushes.

Spamwise Grouchee was lifted into the room.

“Ouch, Mr Ginmouth! I have to have that happen to me all the time! Everyone uses ‘Spam’ in their parodies!”

“Whatever, why are you here?”

“I heard something about ‘toast’. Can I have some?”

“If you do a job for me, then I’ll give you nine slices.”

“Wow! A whole nine slices to myself! I’ll do it!”

Chapter Three: At the Inn of the Prancing Elephant

Where singing while drunk is not a good idea.

Blowdry and Spam were walking through Farmer Baggages’ crop. Ginmouth had left to go to Borethanc.

“Didn’t Bimbo used to say, ‘It’s a dangerous business, eating ice creams. You step out of the shop with a chocolate ice cream, and if you’re very slow about eating it, it’ll melt, and you’ll have sticky fingers.’”

After a quaint little voiceover, they ran into Berry and Flippin: larrikins, pie sellers, frog injectors and complete idiots to boot, which is why they fit into this story. They were carrying floppy disks, as well as their usual strange assortments of clothing, including fishnet stockings worn over their normal green-and-orange striped pants.

“You’ve been in Farmer Baggage’s computer!” (Not literally.)

There was a shot from a laser, so the four hogits ran down a hill, only to land near a children’s crossing. After finding several chocolate eggs from last year’s Spire Easter Hunt (unnaturally popular), they were all eating them, under an old couch, when a rider wearing pink and green polka dotted robes appeared riding a goat. It put its hands on the couch and hummed.

After three intense minutes of humming, Spam gave the rider a chocolate egg to make him go away. The rider got back on its goat and left.

They had ran about five blocks, when they noticed it was night, The other hogits were not content with Blowdry’s assurance that ‘Time flies when you’re having fun,’ so made up for it by thinking about the girlish screams everywhere (‘Probably from the pink-and-green-polka-dotted riders waxing their legs.’ said Spam, who had just got back from another parody.)

To make the entire scene more dramatic, it began to rain, blocking Blowdry’s nose and giving the other hogits a wash. Berry stepped forward, blowing his nose on Spam’s pack and addressing Blowdry directly.

“That pink-and-polka dotted rider was looking for something other than a chocolate egg. Blowdry?”

There was another girly scream.

“Flippin, where’s the nearest boat to Spree?”

Flippin referred to his map.

“Strawberry Ferry!”

After they had gotten to the bridge, the pink-and-polka-dotted rider appeared, riding towards them. Blowdry was last, followed by the rider, who had a jelly-snake raised.

Berry shouted. “You stupid pink-and-polka-dotted rider! That bridge is slippery! Why don’t you get off your goat?”

“Hey, don’t hassle me man!” said the rider in a raspy sing-song voice.

After Blowdry had entered the boat, the pink-and-polka-dotted-rider rode off. Another rider followed. Then another.

“Is it just me, or is the director using the same piece of film for all nine riders?” asked Spam.

“Hey, didn’t you know, they spent so much money on special effects and actors that from now on they’re just using clips from other things?”

“Strawberry Ferry!”

After many hours of used footage, the four hogits arrived at the gates of Spree, which were made of cardboard. An old man opened the door.

“Do I know you?”

“No…”

“Are you sure? What’s your name?”

There was a clicking sound and the shimmer of metal.

“Uh…Don’t worry about it.”

“Thankyou,” said Berry, putting his Smith and Wesson back in his pocket.

After a while, they got to the inn of the Prancing Elephant, and they entered. Berry wondered over to the bar when a large hairy thing knocked him over.

A large, evil looking man turned to Berry. “He doesn’t like you.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t like you either. Just you watch it. I have a knife.”

“That’s a fork.”

The man looked at the fork, then sat down, stunned. Berry ran out of the pub to see several women in nurse uniforms holding stretchers.

“He’s in there, with a hairy thing.”

The women in nurse uniforms nodded, followed by three doctors and a psychiatrist.

Back in the pub, Blowdry and Spam were eating their greasy hamburgers with relish. Flippin was juggling chips when the bartender came around.

“That bloke over there’s done nothing but stare at you since we got here.”

Blowdry looked at a mysterious, tall, cloaked figure.

“Him?”

“No, him.” Spam pointed to the mysterious, tall cloaked figure in the other corner of the pub, who waved happily. Blowdry waved back.

Blowdry turned to the bartender. “Who’s that man over there in the corner?”

“Dunno. One of them ranger folk, known round here as Spider, from his liking of ice cream and cola.”

He pointed to the Cream and Soda Spider was sipping from.

As the night progressed, the entire pub was getting rowdier and people could now get up and sing.

Blowdry was just getting nicely drunk, so he decided to go to the stage.

“Hi, ‘vrebody, ma name’sh Unnerbashket, an’ I wanna shing dish shong, hic!”

With that, Blowdry launched into a song that Bimbo had taught him…

“Found a peanut,

found a peanut,

found a peanut,

last night,

last night I found a peanut,

found a peanut

last night.”

The bar instantly took to the song, and many began to sing along.

Suddenly…

Nothing happened.

Even more Suddenly…

The stage collapsed. Blowdry tripped over, the Teeth fell in his mouth and he turned invisible.

“Wow!” Blowdry wondered how much special effects could make. The Pink and Polka-Dotted riders had seen a big neon sign in their vision, saying THE ONE SET OF TEETH HERE, BLOWDRY NAGGINGS WEARING THEM! So, they rode in the direction of Spree.

Blowdry pulled the Teeth out, then sat down. Spider pulled him into some rooms using his web.

“You draw far too much attention to yourself, ‘Underbasket’.”

Spam, Berry and Flippin burst in, all carrying bags of marshmallows.

“Stop! Or I’ll have you!”

“You have a stout bag of marshmallows, little hogit. But that will not save you.”

Spider turned to Blowdry.

“Would you like a way out of here?”

The hogits nodded.

“Follow me.”

Spider began to run through Spree, with the hogits following. He turned left, into a dock, and pointed at a huge spaceship.

Blowdry looked skeptical. “What a piece of junk!”

The mysterious man glared at Blowdry. “I’ve flown a lot of places with this ship, it’s got me through a lot of tight scrapes, so if you would go through…”

The hogits got into the ship, when the pink-and-polka-dotted riders appeared, holding odd laser guns that weren’t supposed to be in Middle Jerk. They instantly began to fire.

Spider began to run through the ship. “Ch…”

Behind him where at least ten lawyers, all of which began a stream of legal dialogue. He walked over to Blowdry.

“I think we should go the traditional way.”

Blowdry nodded.

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Chapter Four: A Tennis Racket in the Dark

Where lifestyle shows, surfing and fast food joints combine to form a rather strange situation.

Spider had taken them away from the Prancing Elephant, off to Weatherpot in order to buy some booze. The hogits (especially Berry and Flippin) had a liking for orange juice and brandy, and Spider was on his last bottle of Cream and Soda.

Berry and Flippin had stopped.

“Hey hogits, we don’t stop until nightfall, or at least until we get to Weatherpot.”

“We’re having breakfast.”

“We’ve had it.”

“Yes, we’ve had first breakfast. What about second breakfast?”

“Do you really want second breakfast, or do you just want a drink.”

“We just want a drink.”

Spider threw them apples.

“Hey, you can’t make plonk out of apples!”

“What about cider?”

“Yes, but you need other stuff too…and a mixer…”

“This is Weatherpot!” Spider put up his hands enthusiastically.

“There’s nothing here.”

“Oh. Sod.”

Spider settled them in a small ledge, giving them all tennis rackets.

“Aren’t you supposed to give us swords?”

Spider replied in a raspy sing-song voice. “Hey, don’t hassle me man!”

Then in a normal voice. “I’m going to have a look-around, I’ve got to think.”

After he had left, Flippin whispered: “I’m sure he meant ‘I’ve got to drink.’”

Blowdry had nodded off when…

“That tastes good, yeah…”

Blowdry saw Berry and Flippin cooking.

“S’that a barbecue?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe we should put it out, cause the pink-and-polka dotted riders might want some, and we’re short of sausages.”

Flippin turned off the barbecue.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“Run! That’s them!”

The hogits all ran up through the stairs, along with Spam. They were up there when they noticed a drinks machine.

“Can we have one?” asked one of the riders.

Blowdry turned to look at the riders, and screamed. For he then saw them for what they really were.

“You’re…singers!”

“We belong to a travelling show. Now, give us a drink!”

Blowdry shook his head.

“DAMN YOU, HOGIT!” said one of the riders, but the others held him back. The one dropped his tennis racket on Blowdry’s chest…

“OOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!! IT HURRRRRTTTSS!”

Blowdry took off the Teeth. Spider was talking to the rider.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice of you to stab poor Blowdry, was it?” The rider shook his head.

“Alright.” said the supposed leader. “Tom here will be sent straight to bed when we get back to Plus Lessgul, and the others will get fish and chips.”

“That’s a good idea.” said Spider.

The riders rode off, shrieking and brandishing their jelly snakes.

They were in the wilds, walking. Spider was sipping an orange juice, and the hogits all had cola, except Blowdry, who was on a diet and had to have lemonade.

“Spider, where are we going?”

“There’s a good doctor in Givenbell.”

“But that’s days away, and trains don’t exist yet!”

Spider shrugged.

“Hey wait…That looks like someone riding a white goat…” Flippin pulled out binoculars. “Yep, and I think it’s an Elf, no…two elves!”

“Hi everybody!” said Borefindel and Carpet.

“Hi elf people!” said the hogits.

“Why are you both here?”

“Carpet wanted to see Spider before he leaves for a holiday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t like the stubble thing and all that, but I must like you really, I am going to give up my…Oh, look at the time! I promised the Singwraiths I’d have a surfing competition. Any of you wanna come?”

Blowdry raised his hand.

“Ok, your name is…”

“Blowdry.”

Carpet got on her horse, and Blowdry got up too.

After a quick pass on the freeway, Carpet was on one side of the river and the Singwraiths were on the other.

“Ok, whoever wins gets this hogit, free!”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

The riders dismounted, and pulled out surfboards.

“Ok…GO!” The riders all got on the water, and Carpet ran over and turned up the water pressure. They were washed away, just as they were all saying ‘Cowabunga!’.

“He he he he he…” laughed Carpet. “He he…Blowdry…Uh…Don’t give in, not after I did all that stuff…come back…”

Chapter Five: The Council of Bullfrog

In which Ginmouth overdoses.

“Where am I?” asked Blowdry.

“You are in the house of Bullfrog, and it is ten-o-clock in the morning, October the thirty-ninth, if you want to know.”

“Thirty-ninth?”

Ginmouth sniggered. “I messed with the Givenbell timetable. It’s three hours of daylight, and twenty-one hours of night, which means you can go to a night-club just about anytime!”

“Why weren’t you there at the Prancing Elephant? Why do you wear orange? When did the Titanic sink? How does an electric shaver work? WHO INVENTED TOOTHPASTE??”

Ginmouth shoved some medication into Blowdry’s mouth.

“Thanks, I needed that.” He then fell asleep again.

“Where am I now?”

“You are in the house of Bullfrog, and it is ten-o-clock in the night, September the three-hundred-and seventh, if you want to know.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“11 months, four hours and twenty eight minutes.”

“WHAT?”

“Well, I guess I overdosed.”

“Is Spam still here?”

“Well, he’s been slipping in and out from time to time. All the other parodies are finished by now.”

“Bless you you’re awake!” said Spam. “We were so worried, Berry and Flippin actually had facial expressions!”

Ginmouth interrupted, then proceeded to speak in a very high-pitched squeak.

“SpamhasrarelyleftyoursidewetakethemountainofCowhadrasspiesofShallowmanyoushallnotpassgobacktotheshadowflameofstewdunflyyoufools!”

Blowdry turned around, then turned around again, then again, then again, then again, until he shouted at the author: “SLOW DOWN!”

“Yeah,” said Ginmouth, sounding like a squirrel, “this story is going waay too fast.”

The author rolled his eyes, then slowed the pace of the story down.

“Spam has barely left your side, because his gum is stuck to your back.” said Ginmouth.

“Oh.” said Blowdry, taking the gum off and giving it to a joyful Spam. “Sorry.”

Bullfrog, a large elf whose name fit him quite well, walked in. “Welcome to Givenbell, Master Naggings.”

“Strangers from distant lands, I know you’re here for the Givenbell casino, so let’s get this over with: What are we going to do with the Teeth?”

“Eat them!” shouted Ginmouth.

“Stick them in your ear!”

“Sing!”

“Make tea!”

Bullfrog called for silence, but silence was busy in the shower and wouldn’t be there for a while.

“Ok, now we’re gonna hear what Ginmouth did.”

Ginmouth cleared his through. “I’m going to sing this.” Several elves put on earmuffs.

“Oh!

I was!

Skipping down the!

Road to Eyesandnose, when!

I entered!

The!

Tower to see:

Oh dear me!

Goblins and forcs in the pantries!

Trolls in the kitchen!

A Balrog in!

The loo,

And Shallowman was sitting down and laughing…

Singing: Goblins and boblons,

Forcs and geeky dorks!

And Shallowman was sitting!

Down and!

Laughing!

I quietly approached him, the stupid little gooney,

Oh, the smile on!

His face!

It was that of!

A!

Loony!

“Oh, Ginmouth,” he said, “You need a good fix! Some nice flaming tooth guy sent me!

Some magic!

Sticks!”

And!

Lo and behold! Everything was!

Colder!

Shallowman was!

Still loony, and!

By the!

Minute getting!

Older!

Singing: Trolls and sausage!

Rolls!

A Wowbog would go too,

But!

An old loony wizard!

Simply will!

Not!

Do!” Ginmouth finished.

“Then, it is clear that Shallowman has been corrupted by Cowron, so we have two enemies. How wonderful, how absolutely wonderful. You know, I almost wish I were a human. Alright, Ginmouth, what the heck do all those little scribbles on the Teeth mean?”

“Gelm, gelm, gelm,

Anna no skelebo!

Honourslist bumpersticker,

Dafingernails, ingrow!

Colourbond, dulex sayonara,

Hakarr, hakarr,

How’s the match going?” Ginmouth’s voice had become dark and raspy as he said the words. He gratefully accepted a lozenge from Blowdry, then sat down.

“Ribbit!”

The council turned to the last speaker, which looked rather like a newt with a beard taped to its mouth. Next to it was a small dwarf with several potatoes growing in his beard and a family of woodchucks in his hat.

“Sorry, sometimes Ogbert doesn’t know what to say. Do you Ogbert?” he enquired the newt.

“Ribbit!” replied Ogbert.

“That’s my boy!” said the dwarf. “Trimly, son of Soy.”

Blowdry reached out his hand. “Err, hi.”

“I was talking to Ogbert!” said Trimly irritably. “He forgets.” he said to no one in particular.

“Who invited this dwarf?”

“And his newt! Always remember the newt!” Trimly tickled under the newt’s chin.

“Alright, so, that doesn’t solve our problem.”

“We could throw them in the slopes of Mt Tooth!” suggested Ginmouth.

“But Ogbert might be hurt!”

“I was talking about the Teeth.”

Blowdry jumped to his feet. “How dare you interrupt me when I wasn’t saying anything!”

“And what then, when Cowron takes them back! We’re all gonna die!”

“Ribbit!”

“Gabble gatooee?”

“I love potatoes?”

“Feep notafish!”

“Mmm…soup…”

“QUIEETT!!” screamed Carpet. The entire council became silent.

“Thankyou, Carpet.”

Carpet looked at Bullfrog, then Spider. She left.

“Alright, so now we know what to do, who’s gonna do it?”

There was a large dust cloud that covered the remaining people at the council in cheap artificial dust. They were Blowdry, Spam, Berry and Flippin, Ginmouth, Bullfrog, Spider, Trimly, a man, the strange elf and of course, Ogbert.

“Well, who?”

Blowdry thought of all the things he could get with the money he got from the talk shows for destroying the Teeth.

“I will.”

“Ok.” said everyone. Except a large, red haired man, holding several toothbrushes and a kazoo.

“I say we take the Teeth to my father, and we use them! I am Borrowbeer, son of Doneitbefore! Long have the forces of Lessdor been attacking, and long have the forces of Pondor been drunk! Let us use them against him! Have you not seen the powers they hold?”

“You can’t wield them!” shouted Spider.

“Why not?”

“’Cos he’s the real king of Pondor, okay?” the mysterious elf threw back his hood, to reveal an elf that had obviously used a lot of make-up, cared about his hair, and had absolutely no fashion sense at all. He was wearing entirely green pants, blue socks, large eyebrows and a leather jacket. “He’s Narrowlawn, son of Narrowdork. Oh, and he’s a vampire.”

“Pegolas, that’s confidential information!” whined Narrowlawn, who, indeed, was a vampire. His teeth were covered with braces, his skin was white, and if you looked closely, you could see he had Special Elven Sunscreen on.

Berry interrupted. “Dude, like, get a tan.”

Bullfrog looked at Blowdry.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, most young hogits tend to talk that way, dude.”

Berry scowled. “Dude, that was so my way of, like, talking!”

“No it, like, wasn’t!”

“Yes, it like, was!”

“Alright then, if you’re so, like, sure, than you can, like, check the records of the hogit-talking style, dude!”

“Where are, like, they?” Berry asked Ginmouth.

“Lessdor.”

“So, you’re all going?” asked Bullfrog.

“I am.” said Ginmouth. “Hogits can’t read.”

“I am.” said Spam. “I love a chance to fight.”

“You have my sword.” said Narrowlawn, laying a sword with a Band-Aid stuck to it, clearly named ‘Pansyril’, on Bullfrog’s craps table.

“And my bow.” Pegolas put an elven bow, made entirely of dental floss, on the table.

“And my newt!” Trimly put Ogbert on the table, then, realising his mistake, took him back. “I mean my toothbrush.” He layed the hugest toothbrush Blowdry had ever seen on the table, after giving his teeth a quick scrub.

“Nine companions and a newt. You shall be the Frenetic of the Teeth!”

Blowdry was told to pack for bad weather to the journey to Lessdor. He put in his raincoat, a jelly snake, snowboots, a hat, a beanie and several romance novels. Bimbo came forward.

“Hey, Blowdry. I bought ya something.” Bimbo held out a sword, which was a light blue tinge.

“It’s my old letter opener, Spring. Made by the Elves, pure plastic. The blade glows blue when fans are close. Now, here’s my other stuff.” Bimbo handed Blowdry a moth-eaten teddy-newt, a large donut, three french fries and a can of air freshener.

“Thanks, Bimbo.”

Bimbo grinned and held up the Teeth. “Can’t let you have all of that for free, can I?” The Teeth bit him on the hand.

“OOOWWWWWWW! TEETH! I’M GONNA RIP OUT YOUR LITTLE FILLINGS SO HARD, YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO BITE A CUSHION!” In Bimbo’s rage, Blowdry picked the Teeth up and decided to sleep in Spam’s room.

Chapter Six: The Teeth Go South (For a Holiday)

Where dwarves do not use the metric system.

The next day, the Frenetic began their long walk to Lessdor. Ginmouth lead the way, followed by Narrowlawn, then Borrowbeer, Pegolas (still brushing his teeth), Trimly (clutching Ogbert), Blowdry, Berry, Flippin, and then Spam, with the donkey Bob.

Across the lands they went, meeting few people. Even when they did, there was no time to really get to know each other, so they were walking closer and closer to Cowhadrass.

“Ginmouth, we’re getting closer and closer, but we’re going the long way!”

“Why not? The further away we are from Lessdor, the better. Pass the salt.”

They were at a restaurant somewhere. Ginmouth had no idea where they were, (as per usual) and there where at least four hundred of them in Middle Jerk (they were popular due to their lack of money counting ability).

“So, we’re close to Cowhadrass, what next?” asked Blowdry, trying to eat a hamburger with little success.

“We’re gonna go over the mountain, then to Mothworryen.”

Trimly sat up, while Ogbert kept eating his hamburger. “Why not go under Cowhadrass, through the mines of Dorkier? My cousin Bathtub would give us a royal welcome, and they have good gift shops.”

“Let Blowdry decide.”

Blowdry thought about it for a second. Then a third.

“Hmm. I think we should go under Cowhadrass.”

Ginmouth nodded. They took the food with them, as they needed to hurry to get to Lessdor before the story ended.

Ginmouth looked at the author. “No we don’t, we only have to get to Almond Pen.”

Whatever.

After hours of walking, they had finally arrived at the gate of Dorkier. It was a gate with the following words:

The doors of Dorkier: Speak cantaloupe and enter.

“Hmm.” said Ginmouth. “Speak cantaloupe and enter… but we don’t have a cantaloupe…and they can’t talk anyway…”

Borrowbeer was throwing beer cans into the lake. Blowdry held him back.

“You probably shouldn’t do that. You don’t know what’s in that water.”

Ginmouth stuck his staff to the door. “Pin number ginger, padlock, no smoking!”

Nothing happened.

“Wait a minute.” said Blowdry. “Speak cantaloupe and enter… What’s the elvish word for cantaloupe?”

Ginmouth put his staff to the door. “Watermelon.”

The doors opened.

“Well, nice work Blowdry.”

But Blowdry wasn’t there. He was being held by a teddy bear. Sighing, Narrowlawn pulled the stuffed toy off the terrified hogit. They ran inside to hide, but the gates had closed behind them.

“Darn.” Ginmouth turned on the ‘Plankfeed lighter’ function of his staff.

Trimly was ecstatic. “This is the home of my cousin Bathtub. And they call it a hotel. A hotel!”

“This is no hotel. This is a tomb.” Borrowbeer pointed to the dwarf skeletons, mostly with beer bottles in their hands.

Trimly looked around again. It was a fridge. Ginmouth read the shopping list.

“1 pound of beer bread, one pound of banana cake, three gallons of whiskey….”

“They didn’t use the metric system!” gasped Trimly.

“…the list goes on. It also says something else.” They all leaned closer to read the poem.

The gate of Bathtub may well open,

Newts have fled and frogs have fried,

But now the stupid key is broken,

Quite a lot of dwarves have died.

Trimly had created a small inland lake’s worth of tears, along with Ogbert. There was a crash.

“They have a Dinner Roll!” screeched Pegolas, who was flossing. They barricaded the doors with Spam’s chewing gum, much to his protesting, and pulled out their weapons.

The Dinner Roll came through.

“And it’s buttered!” yelled Narrowlawn as he gave Pansyril a quick shine.

“Peanut buttered!” screeched Borrowbeer, doing steps to a seventies hit while swiping at the legs of a nearby forc.

“Peanut buttered with jam!” said Spam, holding a frying pan in one hand and a cook-book in the other.

“Chocolate boysenberry chilli malt!” yelled the Dinner Roll. It was tearing down the walls in frustration.

“Argh! It speaks the foul tongue of Ice Cream!”

“Icypole vanilla chocolate snack!” The Dinner Roll scattered crumbs all over Ginmouth, which thrust The Lone Moon Guide to Deep Places of the World in it’s ear. He opened to page 32.

“Let’s see…we take a left at Bathtub’s bath…I think that’s it…and then we go this way, past the fruit stand…aha! We go here to the Tollbridge of Chimpanzoo.”

Ginmouth began to run. They left the tomb, then turned over to the fruit stand, stopped for taking photos, started again, and jumped through fire.

“How did you do that?” asked the Dinner Roll.

“That was our CG doubles.” said Narrowlawn.

“But I’m CG!” yelled the Dinner Roll.

“Look! A dollar!” The Bread Roll ran to get a good look when Blowdry tripped it over, to fall into dark abyss (or what Elves call ‘Manholes’).

“Sucker.” said Ginmouth, which instantly regretted it when he turned around. It was a Wowbog.

“Roooraarrrrarrrarararrararrararararararararrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

“Eeep.” said Ginmouth. Mustering up all his courage (virtually none), Ginmouth yelled:

“You cannot pass! I am the wielder of the Flame of Bardoor!”

“Roooarrararararrr!”

“Go back to the tourist bus!”

“Roooararararrrrrrr!”

“Go away, Flame of Stewdun! YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” Ginmouth pushed his staff down. “Ow!”

The Wowbog sniggered.

“That went in my foot!” Ginmouth threw his last bottle of cola at the Wowbog. For a second nothing happened, then it toppled over into darkness.

“Phew.” said Ginmouth. Then he checked his pockets. “Wait a minute, he stole my Plankfeed! I’m coming for you, ye damn larrikan!” Without any second thought, he jumped after the Wowbog.

“GRAANPAA!”

Chapter Seven: Mothworryen

Possibly the shortest chapter ever.

Blowdry was inconsolable as they ran through the cornfields, hastily speeding up when they realised that they were the same cornfields Berry and Flippin had taken the floppy disks from, and ran a considerable lot faster. Before they knew it, they saw Mothworryen.

“Wow.”

“Cool.”

“Eeep.”

Several security guards saw them through to the palace. There where several thousand peacocks, a fountain of chocolate and disco strobe lights.

“Showoffs.” muttered Pegolas. He didn’t like Mothworryen. It gave him hayfever.

“Hail and vell met, Frenetic.” said a voice. It was from an elf, quite tall, blonde, wearing a gray dress and a large monocle.

“Scattered showers and good to see you, Galapagos.” replied Narrowlawn.

“Vere’s zat old geezer? I vant some of his Plankfeed.”

“He fell in Dorkier.”

“No, ee’s not dead, ee called mee on ‘is phone. Said zat he’d be vone of ze first beets of dialogue in Ze Two Showerzz.”

“Oh, good. So, can we have a room?”

“Sure, zere’s vone about tree hundred metres from ze beach.”

“Excellent.”

That night, Berry and Flippin had gone to a bar, Pegolas, Narrowlawn and Trimly had gone to a completely different bar, and Borrowbeer was playing Spam in Beach Volleyball, so Blowdry wandered over to the palace. There was a large washbasin.

“Hey, Blowdry man, how’s eet hanging?”

“Ok, Galapagos.”

“You vant your fortune told?”

“Ok.”

“Four ninety five, please.”

Blowdry gave her the money.

Galapagos stirred the water in the washbasin, five times, then dropped a tube of toothpaste and several bottles of tomato sauce into the basin. Then, she poured it into a glass, and drank it, gargled, and spat it back into the basin.

“That’s my fortune?”

“Vat? Oh no, zat’s my mouthwash. Zis is your fortune.” Galapagos turned on a large TV. It showed a test pattern, then a frog, then the entire population of Middle Jerk being made to watch a bad tennis match, Spam being force-fed ham salad, and Blowdry being used as a volleyball. Then a large, flaming tooth.

“That’s what’s gonna happen?”

“Vell, eet was done vith limited technology… perhaps a bit more money would help…”

As Blowdry ran back to the room, he thought, Elves are getting more enterprising by the minute.

The next day, the Frenetic awoke at ten o-clock, yawned, came down to breakfast for a quick fix of Coco Pops, then went to Galapagos to receive their gifts (they came with the bill).

For Blowdry, she gave an electric toothbrush with lights. Spam got a new elven pan, Berry and Flippin got chocolate dispensers, Narrowlawn a can of lemonade, Borrowbeer a kazoo polishing kit, Trimly a leash for Ogbert and Pegolas got a free hair-care coupon. And they all got a hamper and elven raincoats.

They left in rowboats, reinforced with Stik Eetape, an elven adhesive. After several verses of Row, row, row your boat, they passed the great statues of Pondor, with their hands in a strange form.

“We heed you, mighty kings!” shouted Narrowlawn, raising his hand in a similar way.

“What is he doing?”

Pegolas turned to Berry. “It’s the salute of Pondor. The great kings always painted their nails and these ones were waiting for their paint to dry. “

“Uh…riighht…”

Chapter Eight: Almond Pen and through Again

In which commercialism is used to pay for the next two sequels.

“We’re here!” Narrowlawn jumped out of the boat, tripped over, got up again, fell in the mud, got up again, ran into a tree, tripped over, got up again, fell in the mud and got up again, only to run into the same tree.

“Urgh.” Narrowlawn turned to go to a shower, ran into a tree, and passed out.

Pegolas shook his head. “To think that he’s gonna be king of Pondor.”

Blowdry wandered through the trees, then bumped into Borrowbeer, who was collecting rubbish.

“Why are you doing that?”

“It was Pegolas’ idea.”

Blowdry nodded, then kept walking.

“Er, Blowdry…”

“Yes?”

“Do you think Narrowlawn would make a good king?”

“Well, he’s kinda clumsy, but he is the king.”

“He doesn’t have to be. What if I was the Skewer of Pondor?”

“Well, you might be ok.”

“Blowdry, if you give me the Teeth, then I will grant you all the chocolate you ever want.”

Blowdry thought about it. Hmm. He avoided pawning them, selling them, swallowing them, frying them and serving them on a pizza. Shouldn’t he better resist now?

“Well, sorry Borrowbeer, but I have to…erm…brush my teeth!”

“Oh, that’s ok, I can wait.”

Blowdry dashed off, while Borrowbeer waited. He began to whistle.

Blowdry ran into Spam.

“Sorry Spam, I didn’t see you.”

“That’s ok Mr Blowdry, I was in this great story, there was this evil guy with big armour on, and he had a glowing sword, and he was fighting this kid, and then there was something about…a Noscar, they called it, and Figitary Reenasterd, whatever that means…”

“Spam, if you come with me to Lessdor I will buy you three more slices of toast.”

“Really? Ok, I’m there!”

Narrowlawn, Trimly and Pegolas were eating celery when Pegolas stood up.

“What is it?”

“Forcs, except they’re bigger, more muscly, they’re wearing rugby jumpers and they’re running in groups of fifteen.”

“Ginmouth didn’t mention this in his poem, but I heard Bullfrog and him talking about it in Bullfrog’s bedroom.”

“What were you listening for?”

“I wasn’t listening, I was looking for my teddy bear.”

Trimly sniggered.

“So anyway, Ginmouth said that Shallowman had bred forcs and rugby players, to create Rugbi-hai.”

Trimly looked around. “Hey, where have Berry and Flippin gone?”

Pegolas jumped. “They’ve captured Berry and Flippin! We must save them!”

“But who knows where the Rugbi-hai are going?”

“The Rugbi-hai…Borrowbeer!” Narrowlawn ran out of the clearing. Pegolas and Trimly looked at each other.

“You want to play Slaps?”

“Ok.”

Narrowlawn ran back into Almond Pen, panting. He saw Borrowbeer, who was sitting against a tree.

“Borrowbeer! What happened?”

“Blowdry left me, and then all the Rugbi-hai started passing the ball to each other, but I started one of my anti-king rants and they got bored to death. They managed to make trys before that though.”

“But why are you dying?”

“They began to chant a rice crackers ad. It was terrible!”

“Do not worry. I will make sure your death is avenged.”

“Excellent. Narrowlawn, take my credit card, my packet of jelly babies and my last bottle of sports water. My pin number is 1337, 789, 07734. And, whatever you do, beware the one legged man.”

“What?”

“Um…I’ve forgotten the script…”

“That’s ok, just repeat after me. Say that you would have stayed with me to the end. Say it!”

“I would have…stayed with…erm…err…” Borrowbeer died.

“So much for a dramatic ending.” muttered Narrowlawn, and left.

After Narrowlawn had come back, they summed the whole case up, while chewing carrots from Pegolas’ bag.

“So, not only we don’t know where Berry and Flippin are, they’re about two hundred miles away.”

“What if we drink orange juice?” asked Narrowlawn. “It has good carbohydrates!”

“Although we’re not supposed to use commercialism, it’s good idea! Now, let’s start hunting some forc before the story ends!”

“Cheers to that.” said Trimly.

Two small hogits stepped onto the ground of Lessdor. They both stared wide-eyed, at the scenery of Lessdor in front of them, and the falls behind them.

“Do you think we’ll ever see them again, Mr Blowdry?”

“We can only hope not, Spam. We can only hope not.”

The End.

Here ends the first part of the history of the War of the Teeth.

The second part is THE TWO SHOWERS, which is the grand total of showers that the broken Frenetic has until the last book.

The third part tells of the last defence of against the Silhouette, and the end of the mission of the Teeth-bearer in RETURN OF THE THING.