Saving Face

The boss’s son always tells me to bite their ears off, I don’t wanna bite their ears off, I have texture issues with the cartilage. But in the end I’d bite all night for this guy. They don’t even look human at the end. Then again neither do I.

You gotta leave some face though. Or you forget what you’re even doing.

*

I spin the chair around. It’s so light without the guy on it. Just a red shadow dissolving on the seat.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

The boss’s son says, “You’ve got something in your teeth.”

I pick it out with the nail I keep sharp for this purpose, I don’t even know what it is. I get deep in there, you know. Scientists discover new body parts every day. I love that. It keeps me hopeful.

“I was saying, anything else I can do for you?”

But he’s already back in the swimming pool, deaf with water. I watch his limbs ripple like what I’m digesting in my stomach.

*

After watching what I do, the boss’s son won’t let me suck his dick anymore.

I guess once you become the dog, you’re useful in a different way. He won’t soil himself with beasts. Or he simply doesn’t want to get his dick bit off. 

But I don’t think my teeth are sharper than any other guys. It’s strictly mental.

*

The doctor says I have a tapeworm. Could explain a few things. He wants to give me some Praziquantel. The label says EXPELS TAPERED AHRIMANFORMS. I tell him I’m not shitting out my honor and my value and my devotion. Not unless God himself sucks it out of me.

He says, take the vermifuge. You never know.

*

Leave me enough face for the funeral, Carafe says. He’s old school. Thinking of his family.

I look to the boss’s son for approval. He’s filing his nails like I wish I could file my teeth. He says, sure.

I say, no promises, but I’ll start from the toes, and we’ll see how it goes.

Carafe says, oky doky.

*

I hop up and down, trying to make the smoke hit my lungs faster.

“What are you doing?” the boss’s son says.

“Nothing. I’m good to go.”

“Let me see your teeth.”

I open my mouth wide like the dentist. He looks inside, eyes narrowed. I’m open so long I start drooling, then I start sweating.

He finally says, “Is your stomach empty?”

“I could make it be empty.”

“I just want to make sure this goes smoothly. We’re doing two guys tonight.”

“Two. Wow.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Maybe for them, if you know what I mean, heheheh.”

He takes the cigarette from my fingers and sniffs it. He’s quitting, but it’s hard. I know the longer he smells it, the harder it’ll get. I watch to see what he’ll do.

*

Two chairs, two guys, one of them is actually a lady, but you can’t tell anymore. I wish we tortured more women. I’m not retrograde, I believe in equality of the sexes. But it’s hard biting through some of these guys. All the piercings, tattoos, hair, calluses, gristle. Eating a woman is like eating two or three kids stacked on top of each other. And to be frank, I needed the assist. Never did two guys before. Wasn’t sure I could do it. But I’d never say no to the boss’s son. I’ll keep singing even if my voice breaks, you know, as long as the camera stays on me.

2 grubs honk mournfully on the topic of “Saving Face

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