Fangboy

“Samuel!” Ellen held the baby closer, as if her husband might try to snatch their child out of her hands. “We’re not going to pull out his teeth! He was born this way for a reason.”

“To instill terror?”

“I don’t love him any less, and you’re not going to, either. We’re going to raise him just as we’d planned. Maybe with a small adjustment or two, obviously, but he’s going to live a normal life.”

Samuel turned to Dr. Thompson. “You’d mentioned his tongue. What if he does bite it off? We could have a child with scary teeth and no tongue. He won’t be able to speak; he’ll just make moaning sounds, which will do nothing to dispel the idea that he’s a monster! I’m not suggesting that we pick up a rock and start knocking them out, but there must be some kind of delicate surgery that can be performed.”

Dr. Thompson furrowed his brow. Logically, he agreed with Samuel. The boy couldn’t possibly have a normal childhood with teeth like that. On the other hand, Dr. Thompson had learned that it was always best to side with brand-new mothers in all issues involving anything of any type.

“Oh, little Nathan will be fine,” Dr. Thompson said, packing away his stethoscope. “It’s the way of the world for new parents to worry, but I very much doubt that he’ll be a danger to himself or those around him. If you have any problems, just give me a call.”

He did not leave quickly, but neither did he dawdle.

As Dr. Thompson drove home, he wondered if this might be an opportunity to get himself into one of the reputable medical journals. He could monitor the progress of the Boy With Creature Teeth, write up his observations, and finally earn the jealousy of his peers.

But would that be exploitive?

Yes, probably.

Dr. Thompson liked to drink, smoke, gamble, and indulge in the pleasures of women without emotional involvement and without sharing news of these encounters with his wife. He also took naps at inappropriate times, engaged in the occasional bit of minor fraud, and once, back in his youth, there’d been a regrettable instance of cold-blooded murder. But to exploit an innocent baby, even for “science,” just felt wrong to him. Not to mention that—at least by the usual standards for the medical profession—he was an extremely lazy man. A full study of a medical marvel seemed like a lot of work.

So instead he drove to his second-favorite bar, had a few beers, played a game of darts, and then went to treat Mrs. Preston’s infected leg.

Meanwhile, Samuel was conflicted. It was, after all, his own flesh and blood. You weren’t supposed to be repulsed by your own son. And the way the child now slept, with his mouth mercifully closed, Samuel almost felt the stirrings of parental adoration that he should have been feeling since the moment of birth.

“You’re right,” he told Ellen. “He is a beautiful child. And for as long as we live, nobody will ever hurt him.”

Samuel decided that he wasn’t going to take any action. Maybe the teeth would fall out on their own overnight.

* * *

The teeth did not fall out on their own, but nor had they grown larger during the night. This was a great relief to Samuel, since he had dreamt of peering into the crib to see Nathan’s head elongated to six times its previous size to accommodate his rapidly growing teeth. Compared to that, the reality of the situation wasn’t so bad.

By the end of the day, though he couldn’t honestly say that he was used to the teeth, the sight of them no longer horrified him. Nathan seemed to be healthy and happy. While Samuel had no plans to impregnate his wife a second time, for fear of what might come out next (antennae?), he made peace with the appearance of his current child.

“What should we tell everybody?” he asked, as Ellen nursed the baby with a reinforced bottle.

“What do you mean?”

“Should we prepare them? Send out pictures? Give people a chance to react in the privacy of their own homes before they see Nathan in person?”

Ellen frowned. “Maybe we should just send a mouth-closed picture and warn people that he’s ‘different.’”

“’Different’ could mean a redhead. We should be unsubtle.”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, if we…” Samuel started to say “Look, if we aren’t going to get rid of him and we aren’t going to hide him in the basement for his entire life, then we should just send the pictures out there and get it over with,” but decided not to. “I think that if people are going to scream, it would help if they did it someplace else.”

“Nobody will scream.”

“I can think of at least four people who are likely to scream.”

“I just feel that when they see him in person, see his sweetness and innocence, see his adorable dimples, then the other thing won’t carry quite as much of a shock.”

“We’ve got to cushion the blow somehow,” Samuel insisted. “I understand that we both love him, but he’s a disturbing sight! We’re lucky there isn’t a whole line of reporters outside of our house.” Samuel glanced at the front window to confirm that there actually wasn’t, then continued. “What we should do is make him sound worse than he really is. Maybe imply that he has a forked tongue or a mouth on his stomach. Do something that makes people sigh with relief when it’s only sharp teeth.”

“There is absolutely no way I’m going to spread rumors that our son has a mouth on his stomach.”

“Okay, yes, you’re right, that was a poor suggestion, but what if we—?”

“My parents will be here in three days,” said Ellen. “We’ll test their reaction.”

Samuel sighed, then nodded. “That sounds fair.”

* * *

Ellen’s comment that nobody would scream turned out to be incorrect.

TWO

“He’s a monster!” screamed Helena, Ellen’s mother, clutching at her heart. “A horrible beast!”

Helena had been polite at first. A smile, a coo, a barely audible whisper of congratulations, and then, after a moment of rather distinct lip-twitching, she proceeded to engage in the aforementioned screaming.

She was not a woman to scream easily (and had not, in fact, been one of Samuel’s four predictions). She was a strict woman, yet a fair one. Stern yet nurturing. Rude yet usually correct. Samuel would have expected a response of “My goodness, what is that grotesque creature you have wrapped in the light blue blanket?” The shrieking was a surprise.

Ellen burst into tears and ran into the bedroom, taking Nathan with her. She slammed the door shut.

Martin, Samuel’s father-in-law, scratched nervously at his elbow. “I didn’t actually get to see anything,” he said. “What was the issue?”

Helena started to answer, but then collapsed upon the sofa. “I need a glass of water before I faint,” she said, gasping three times while speaking the sentence.

Samuel was more inclined to just let her faint, but he went into the kitchen and got her a glass of lukewarm water from the faucet. He handed it to her without a word. She took a small sip and set the glass on the coffee table.

“Samuel, what have you and my daughter done?”

“We had a child.”

“That’s no child. That is not my grandson. What happened? Did he die in the womb?”

“He’s not a zombie baby!” Samuel insisted. “The teeth surprised everybody, but I swear to you, apart from that abnormality he’s perfectly normal. Everything he’s done for these past three days has been what we’d expect a baby to do. I had problems with the situation myself, but Nathan is no monster.”

Helena took another sip of water. “Destroy it.”

“Absolutely not.”