The Town That Flossed Too Much

Bloomberg was the kind of town where everyone had perfect teeth and incredible hair — and if you were missing either, there were about forty places on Main Street happy to fix that.

The dental clinic sat between a flower shop and the third-best hair salon in town. A small wooden sign on the door read: *Tooth Fairy Dental — We Promise Not to Be Scary.*

Dr. Pinkie had painted that sign herself, in pink, with little hearts.

Inside, she was already humming and setting out instruments when Dr. Hearts rolled in ten minutes late, coffee in hand and completely unbothered.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly.

Dr. Mikey dropped into his chair and kicked his feet up. "We've got four new patients today. Overbites. All four. Kids named Collin, Brandon, Will, and Brooke."

Nobody answered right away.

From the back hallway came a slow, deliberate sound — the soft drag of something along the floor.

Dr. Skull's hair again.

Something Pinned to the Bulletin Board

Dr. Skull came around the corner and the long sweep of his black hair followed a full second later, sliding along the tile like a dark shadow with nowhere to be.

Dr. Mikey didn't even look up. "There's a note on the front door," he said flatly. "Somebody taped it there this morning."

Dr. Pinkie had already pulled it off. She read it twice and then held it out.

It was handwritten on notebook paper, in four different colors of ink:

*We are NOT coming. Ever. Signed, Collin, Brandon, Will, and Brooke.*

Dr. Hearts let out a slow breath. "Four overbites. Four kids. Zero patients."

"They're scared," Dr. Pinkie said.

"Obviously," said Mikey.

Dr. Skull picked up his thermos — a battered black thing with a tiny skull sticker on the side — and took a long sip of the warm chicken blood inside. He stared at the note.

"I'll go get them," he said.

Everyone turned.

He almost never volunteered for anything.

"You?" said Mikey.

Dr. Skull didn't answer. He was already heading for the door, hair dragging softly behind him.