Brett was sick and tired of everyone coaxing him to pullout that wiggly, loose baby tooth! “Come on kid, let me at it!” His dad chuckled, settling Brett onto his lap.
“No dad, pleeeese don’t bother it,” Brett whined, and squirmed away quickly before dad had time to apply a pair of greasy pliers to the wobbly tooth precariously suspended from his young, pink gums.
“What makes the difference if MY tooth comes out or not; it’s mine, not theirs!” Brett muttered angrily. It seemed everyone in the family, including his own mother who wanted to twist the tooth out of the socket with a piece of toilet paper!
Brett had tried repeatedly to get the tooth out, but his scared little hands wouldn’t let him finish the job. “It’s going to hurt-I know it is; and the blood is going to squirt all over the place! I’ll probably bleed to death!” He cried. There’d be no money under his pillow again tonight Brett thought as he slid into his PJ’s. “Who cares? I’m in no hurry for the Tooth Fairy anyways!”
The next morning, to Brett’s chagrin, he figured he’d just have to get used to seeing his same old disgusting straggle-tooth grin for the rest of his life. “If everyone would just leave me alone”, he mumbled. “Maybe the dumb thing will fall out by itself”, but he was sure that would never happen. And vowed never to touch it again.
“Look”, said grandpa. “I’ve got an idea. See this long piece of string I’m holding? I’m going to tie one end around your loose tooth; won’t take me a minute. And, then I’ll tie the other end to that doorknob over there”. Grandpa pointed to the front door. Brett swallowed hard; his eyes ablaze, his hands getting sweaty. Alarms were going off in his little blond head with each passing second.
“Then what grandpa? The frighten six year old stammered.
“Well when I open the door and slam it as hard as I can! Whammy, that tooth is going to fly out of your mouth like a rocket!” Grandpa snickered, giving him a little wink. “Come here boy let’s try it!” In utter horror, Brett pursed his lips tightly, and sucked them in till they disappeared. “No way; nothing is getting between my lips today”, he sputtered unintelligibly. Then like a scared rabbit Brett took off for the kitchen, and down the basement stairs. He stayed there until he heard grandpa’s heavy footsteps lumbering toward the den to watch TV; and like a sneaky gray mouse Brett crept up the squeaky basement stairs and out the backdoor, to play in the yard. He was done with grandpa for a while.
Brett was not going to have anything to do with any of their good ideas anymore. He’d be ever so happy if they’d just leave him alone and let him think-up his own ideas; one that didn’t hurt.
One day mother was planning a trip to a garage sale at the end of the block. “Let’s go Brett, mother called out impatiently. “I want to get there before all the good stuff is gone!” Mother and Brett enjoyed buying secondhand knick-knacks and toys.
“Hey mom, do you think I could buy this old train set?” Brett asked.
“No dear, it’s too expensive. Just look at the price on it. It must be an antique,” mother explained.
Brett exhaled loudly, showing his rude disappointment. “Well, if I can’t have the train set, can I please have this wooden airplane?” He pleaded. Brett picked up the light-weight plane and waved it at his mother who was now browsing on the other side of the cluttered garage.
“How much is it?” She questioned.
“Twenty-five cents,” Brett shouted.
Brett handed his quarter to the neighbor lady having the garage sale, said goodbye to his mother, and skipped away with the fragile balsa wood airplane under his arm. He couldn’t wait to fly it!
Brett noticed when he got outside; one wing of the airplane had some string wrapped around it. When he unwound the long string, he found it was attached to the body of the plane in three places, “maybe so I can fly it like a kite he guessed. And, so he tried it. He was right it felt just like flying a small kite as he ran up and down the sidewalk with the airplane sailing above his head like a bird!
After a while Brett became bored with the secondhand toy, and he decided to join his mother who was still shopping at the garage sale, but at the last minute he had an idea.
Soon he would be ready to try out his new invention. Brett felt a twang of fear, but he was going to go ahead anyway!
The extra string dangled from his mouth like a soggy spaghetti noodle. The knot tied around his tooth felt tight and he thought he tasted blood. Nevertheless, his hand held steady as he checked the other end of the string attached to the plane. “Yep things look good!” he resolved with some trepidation, because he had a feeling his plane would most likely splinter into a million pieces.
Aligning the craft the level of his mouth, he wound up like he was going to throw a baseball. Brett could feel the tug of the string resisting his aim, it kind of hurt, and some blood trickled down his chin, “Ready, Aim, Fire”, Brett yelled, thrusting the thin wooden projectile into the air as hard as he could; it would be his plane’s last destination and with it went his silly old baby tooth!”
