The Sign on the Counter

Phoenix sunlight slid through the blinds of Tiny Molar Dental. Dr. Skull sat on the waiting-room armchair, boots planted, long black hair spilling down his back like a curtain. One bright green eye peeked out from his bangs. He did not smile.

A flyer was taped to the counter: KID CUTS NEXT DOOR—WALK-INS.

Dr. Pinkie fluttered in, her pink bob bouncing.

“Morning, Skull. Your hair is… committing to the floor.”

“It is fine,” he said, touching his skull hair pins like they were armor.

Dr. Hearts clicked a pen. “We have four kids. All nervous. Be nice.”

Dr. Mikey set out tiny toothbrushes. “No jump-scares before ten.”

The door chimed.

Collin, Brandon, Will, and Brooke stepped inside, shoulder to shoulder. Brooke stared at the chair like it might bite. Brandon covered his mouth.

Dr. Skull’s small fangs showed when he spoke, low and flat.

“Sit,” he said.

The Wet Sidewalk Rule

Dr. Skull’s one green eye narrowed.

“Not here,” he said. “Follow.”

He pushed open the door and stalked next door toward the big sign that said KID CUTS. Hot air hit their faces.

A cooler lay on its side outside. Water spread into shiny puddles.

Brandon stepped back and slipped anyway.

Dr. Skull’s bat-like wings flared on instinct. He grabbed Brandon’s hoodie and yanked him upright.

Brandon blinked. “You… caught me.”

“Do not fall,” Dr. Skull said, like it was a rule.

Inside Kid Cuts, a smart woman with short hair waved a dripping shoe.

“Ms. Rena,” she snapped at the clerk, “my fox display is soaked!”

Dr. Pinkie fluttered in behind them, a tooth-fairy dentist in her white coat. Dr. Hearts and Dr. Mikey followed.

Dr. Hearts pointed at the haircut chair. “Skull. One minute. Then the kids do one minute in our chair.”

The barber cape popped open.

Dr. Skull stared at it like it hissed.

Will snorted. “Wait. You’re scared of haircuts?”