Demon Dentist. David Walliams

picked.

      “Nobody…?” asked Miss Root.

      Even the swots and show-offs kept deadly silent.

      “Come on, children, I don’t bite!” The dentist smiled and flashed her blindingly white teeth.

      “Who hasn’t been to the dentist for a very very long time…?” she purred.

      The pupils started whispering to each other and looking around. Soon hundreds of pairs of eyes were glaring at Alfie. Everyone at school had at some point noticed his teeth. They were so bad, they might as well have been a tourist attraction. They could even have their own café and gift shop.

      The dentist followed the children’s gaze and fixed her eyes on Alfie.

      “Oh yes, I thought it might be you…” Miss Root’s long, thin, gnarled finger pointed straight at him. “You, boy. Come to Mummy…”

      When Alfie’s shaking legs finally propelled him to the front of the hall, he looked into the dentist’s eyes for the first time. Miss Root’s eyes were black. Blacker than oil. Blacker than coal. Blacker than the blackest black.

      In short, they were black.

      The dentist stared long and hard at the boy, before uttering…

      “Don’t be scared, child…”

      There is nothing designed to scare a person more than being told not to be scared.

      “Let Mummy have a little look at your teeth…”

      Alfie kept his mouth firmly shut.

      “Open wide, there’s a good boy…”

      Suddenly Alfie felt as if he couldn’t help doing exactly what the dentist told him. He opened his mouth, and she peered inside.

      “Oh…” moaned the woman in pleasure. “Your teeth are absolutely abhorrent…”

      The whole of the lower school laughed at him.

      Except two children – Gabz, who looked on with sadness at the cruelty, and Texting Boy, who was still texting and had missed everything.

      “Oh dear, oh dear. What is your name, child…?” enquired the dentist.

      “Alfie, M-M-Miss…” the boy spluttered.

      “Call me Mummy…”

      There was no way he was ever going to call anyone that, least of all her.

      “Alfie what…?” continued Miss Root.

      “Alfie Griffith.”

      “Well, young Alfie Griffith, you simply must make an appointment to come and see me at my surgery very soon…”

      Alfie shuddered at the thought. He had vowed never to go anywhere near another dentist as long as he lived.

      “Do you like presents, child…?”

      Like all kids, the boy loved presents.

      “Y-y-yes…” he replied.

      “Well, Mummy’s got a little present for you. For being such a good boy today, here – have a free tube of my own special brand of toothpaste…”

      From the trolley, Miss Root picked up a thick white tube with the word ‘MUMMY’S’ emblazoned in big red letters on the side.

      The slogan ‘Mummy loves your teeth’ was inscribed in smaller black letters under that.

      “And one of my special toothbrushes. Do you prefer hard or soft bristles, Alfie Griffith…?”

The boy had had the same toothbrush all his life. He had no idea whether it once had been hard or soft. Right now there was only one lonely bristle left. It was virtually bristleless*.

*Made-up word ALERT

      “I don’t mind…”

      “I’ll give you a nice soft one, then…” announced Miss Root.

      A gleaming white ‘MUMMY’S’ toothbrush was produced from the trolley. The bristles on the end were sharp and wiry. Alfie ran his finger along them and winced. It was like stroking a porcupine.

      Holding the brush and tube in his hands, Alfie looked like a tearful child you might see at the zoo who has been made to face their fear of spiders by being given a huge, hairy, highly poisonous tarantula to hold.

      “Alfie, we shall meet again…”

      No, we won’t! thought Alfie.

      “Oh yes we will…” she whispered. It was as if the dentist could hear his thoughts…

5

       Special Sweeties

      “Now be a good boy and pop back to your seat…!” ordered Miss Root. Alfie did what he was told. Not wanting to catch anyone’s eyes for fear of further humiliation, he put his head down as he trudged back to his seat.

      “Now, children…” continued the lady, “who else would like a present? I have some free sweeties…?”

      Hundreds of hands shot up, and soon the hall was humming with the chattering of excited children.

      “But don’t sweets rot your teeth?” shouted out Gabz.

      Miss Root glared at her, then smiled. “Oh, aren’t you a feisty one? What’s your name, child…?”

      The girl hesitated, but eventually said, “Gabz…”

      “Well, of course, young Gabriella is right. Normally sweeties do rot your teeth. But not these ones. No! Mummy’s sweeties are special. All my sweeties are completely sugar-free, so you can eat as many as you like…” From under the trolley she pulled out a tray, and whisked a white sheet off the top of it. Underneath was a huge pile of brightly coloured goodies. There were chocolates and chocolates and more chocolates. Toffees and fudge. Sucky sweets and chewy sweets. Fruity ones and minty ones. Melt in your mouth sweets. Crunchy sweets. Fizzy sweets. Explosive sweets.

      “Come on, children. Don’t be scared. Come and help yourselves to Mummy’s special sweeties…”

      In an instant, hundreds of children surged forward and started eagerly grabbing huge handfuls of sweets. As many as they grabbed, and the greedy little boys and girls were stuffing their faces and pockets, there seemed to be more. And more. And more.

      “Take as many as you like!” Miss Root called over the din. “I can always magic up some more…!”

      Alfie noticed Gabz was sitting stock-still in her seat.

      “Are you not gonna get any?” asked Alfie.

      Gabz shook her head.