"You will all die- the fat merchant and the squinch-eyed lime burner; the gravid mother and the nursing child, priest and prince and prisoner- none will be spared, all will become dead meat, a feast for worms, a noxious thing that must be buried where it can't be seen or smelled." –Bishop Silvanus de Roquefort: The Priest.
-
Not for the first time that day, Piccolo wondered why he had let himself be manipulated by a little girl. Well, she obviously didn't talk like a young lady, but she still had that faint naïve innocence that hung around her like a wet blanket. Piccolo sighed and looked over the list of patients for the day. He only had a couple of fillings to do, and then five o'clock would be there, waiting ominously.
A few knocks of Piccolo's office door penetrated, then shattered the silence.
"Come in." He said wearily, pushing around various office supplies on his desk in anxiety.
Goku cautiously poked his head in, as if worried that his boss might throw something at him. "Sir, your three thirty appointment was cancelled, and you said I could leave early today, you know, to go take my son Christmas shop-"
"Yes, fine, go." Piccolo snapped, startling Goku. Usually his boss was quiet, and rarely spoke above a monotone. He wasn't the most affable person, but Goku knew he had had his share of rough times.
"Sir? If I need to stay-"
"No, I'll get that new guy…what's his name again? Jack something… Anyway, he can assist me in the last filling today. You go on home." He waved Goku's stuttering protests away, like some annoying and very large fly.
"Thank you, Dr. Damioh." He said politely, then quickly stepped out. Piccolo rolled his eyes and stood up. Having a different assistant than Goku might do him good. He was a nice guy and everything, but he was just so…ditzy sometimes.
He walked into the hallway and looked around cautiously. No one was loitering around, luckily. He really didn't feel like talking with his stupid fellow dentists. Especially the one who insisted on telling jokes that would make his brother blush. Which was quite a feat, since he himself enjoyed raunchy humor. After stepping through the hall a few yards, he carefully knocked on one of the more down-to-earth dentist's door, glancing over his shoulder afterward, as if afraid that the knocking might bring about a lonely soul looking for a conversation.
The door opened slowly, revealing a rather dry looking man behind large spectacles. He took them off, wiped them, and put them back on, looking at Piccolo's tall frame.
"Piccolo."
"Steve."
"What can I do for you?" He asked, in a tone that suggested he really couldn't give a damn.
"If it's not too much trouble, could I have Jack assist me later, at about four? I have a filling to do-"
"What about Son? Where did he go? I mean, you didn't fire him right before Christmas, did you?" The older man grumbled, his graying brows furrowed. Piccolo groaned inwardly, having forgotten what an ass the guy could be. Somehow the man always managed to treat him like a child of five, though Piccolo was much taller than him.
"Not yet. He just asked me if he could get off early, and I had already agreed previously to let him."
"Fine, fine. It's not as though he's much use to me right now. Being too busy talking on his damn cell phone every waking second, I swear…" The old man groused, stepping into his office again. "Oy, Jack, you lousy putz! Could you put your social life on a hold a second and come out here?" The old man groaned to his aid, who finally came out a few seconds later.
He was a young man, probably still in college. Piccolo suspected that he was in his last months of training, by the lack of the jaded, I-hate-my-life look that was common to many dentists. He looked like he would be more comfortable on a surfboard than a dental facility, actually. His hair was dyed an unnatural shade of blonde, contrasting his fairly tan skin. His shirt was a loud Hawaiian print, making Piccolo's temple pulse, as if by reaction.
"Jack, you're going to be with Damioh this afternoon, down the hall. He needs you at about four, you said? Anyway, it's just a filling, so you'll do fine." Steve rumbled, sounding annoyed. "I don't need you for the rest of the day, though, so you can break until then." He nodded at Piccolo and stepped back in his office, shutting the door loudly behind him.
A few seconds of awkward silence passed while Piccolo wondered what he got himself into. He could have just as easily done without. It would have taken a little longer than usual, but he could maybe get done…
"Old man sure is uptight today. He always does it this time of the month."
"Why?" Piccolo asked cynically, raising a brow.
"Alimony is due today, I think. He gets all pissed and acts like a prick all day."
"Oh. I can understand that, then." Piccolo remarked, glancing at his watch. Alimony was a bitch.
"So, Mr. Damioh, is it all right if I come back in a little while? You don't need me to set anything up, do you?" Jack asked, his hands in his pockets.
"No, four should be fine." Piccolo said, retreating down the hall slightly. "Just, don't be late, eh?"
"No sir."
-
He wasn't late, and the filling went over just fine, except for the moment when a cell phone ring had gone off when he was drilling. The patient was a little startled, but got over it quickly. After all, he wasn't about to let his dentistknow he was nervous; he believed they could smell fear.
"And if you'll just check in with the front desk on your way out…" Piccolo said, opening the door for the patient, who was clutching the side of his swollen face. "Remember, don't eat anything for a while, I'd say at least two hours. Wouldn't want to come back here for a replacement, right?"
The patient merely cast a worried look at Piccolo and left quickly, who didn't seem to notice. For standing in his doorway was the kid, grinning easy as Sunday morning.
"Hey Pic!"
"Aren't you early?" Piccolo said, checking his watch.
"I like to say punctual. Besides, I got bored. Can we go eat? I'm hungry as a beast, man." She didn't wait for response and pulled Piccolo's hand, with the rest of him dragging behind, out the door and to his office next door.
'For a scrawny little punk, she has a good grip.' Piccolo thought vaguely as she waited for the dentist to get his things. She was practically jumping up and down from excitement.
"Ok, this will be great! Father said that I was destined to do good things for people, and LOOK! I bet it's a sign from God, Piccolo, seriously. HEY, don't look at me like that, I'm completely real, man. I bet that it was fate that made me wonder about you. You're sad, and I can help you out! It's perfect!"
"A lot of people are sad." Piccolo mumbled, but was startled when the kid grabbed his hand, holding it tightly.
"But that doesn't mean they should be." She said softly, all hyperness out of her voice. "I know what it feels like to always be sad, Piccolo. It's not fun, and it hurts."
"How do you know I'm sad all the time?" Piccolo demanded, amazed at the conversation he was having, much less with a stranger of five foot two.
"I can read people well, ok? Call it a gift, I don't know. But I DO know one thing: I think you need to get the hell out of this office and into the real world. It would do you good, Pic."
"Don't call me that."
"Why?"
"Just…don't."
Sarah blinked and stared at Piccolo. After a while she shrugged and literally danced out the door, an uneasy Piccolo in tow.
-
The kid had felt like eating fish. So they went to her favorite little place, "Fishin' Joe's". Piccolo didn't really like fish, but he would eat shellfish and stuff. So he didn't really have a problem either.
"How long have you been divorced?" The kid asked, continuing what had been almost an interrogation. Piccolo swallowed his crab and scowled.
"Did your mother ever tell you it's rude to pry?" He asked, but was instantly sorry when the girl's eyes welled up with tears.
"She's been dead for years…"
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
"GOT YA! Oh man, score one for sympathy, always a good trait in men. Hey hey, don't glare at me like that! Didn't your mother ever tell you that sending mean looks is rude?"
"I never knew her, actually."
"You're yanking my chain on this one."
"No, really. I don't know if she's dead, or out there, somewhere…" He muttered, shrugging. "It doesn't matter; if she IS out there, I don't want to have anything to do with someone who couldn't be bothered to see their own son."
"Aha, now we're getting places. Anger or resentment towards a parent accounts for much of society's sadness. What was your old man like, then?"
"He was all right, I guess. We never really did anything together. He was kind of absorbed in his work."
"What did he do?" The kid noticed then that her cod had been sitting on the end of her fork for some time, and shoved it in her mouth.
"He was a surgeon. He was always on call, especially in the E.R. I don't resent his working hours; I know and accept that he had a job to do, and an obligation to fulfill it. My brother didn't always feel that way, though."
"Brother?" She said in surprise, taking a drink of iced tea quickly. "Do tell."
"His name is Nail, and he's my twin."
"Oo, sounds dreamy." She teased, then bowed her head, allowing Piccolo to go on.
"Anyway, he's a partner in the Radisson hotel chain. He's pretty well off, and doesn't do anything, really. He comes to meetings, sure. And sometimes he investigates complaints and stuff like that. But for the most part, it's drinking and buying cars."
"Oh wow! How old you guys again?"
"Too old for you, certainly!" Piccolo said loudly, receiving several glares from other customers. Piccolo grinned in a nervous, apologetic way and turned back to the kid, saying in a more hushed tone, "Do you enjoy doing this?"
Sarah seemed to regard this as a trick question and thought briefly. "Yes, I do; it's a flaw, but we don't pick 'em, right?"
Piccolo waved over a waiter and requested a large draft of whatever the house was serving. Sarah grinned largely and nodded.
"You're not bad, Piccolo. Kind of antsy, brooding, and easy to set off… But you're ok." She said, patting his arm. "Now, what was your childhood like?"
Suddenly Piccolo was back at his shrink's office, sitting on the leather couch.
"Now tell me about your childhood." The short man inquired, writing something on his sketch pad.
"What do you mean? Just start from birth or what?" Piccolo asked in agitation. He hadn't even said anything and the guy was already jotting things down.
"Whatever you feel is best."
"But you're the psychiatrist. Shouldn't YOU tell ME?"
"Whatever you want, Mr. Damioh. Do you mind if I smoke?" He was already lighting a Camel, despite Piccolo's abhorrence. "Now, were you and your wife intimate often? Or, as the marriage slipped, did the bedroom aspect also decline?"
"You just asked about my childhood!"
"You didn't answer."
"What the fu-ARGH. Whatever. Ok, can we go back to the childhood thing?"
"I suppose. Were you neglected?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know, malnourished, underexercised, ect."
"Doctor, do I LOOK like I was starved?" Piccolo asked, watching the shrink glance over his sketch pad and look at his large form.
"Not all neglect is physical."
"I wasn't neglected!"
"No need to get hostile, Mr. Damioh."
"I'm not hostile, Dr. Briefs, I just am saying-"
"Sir, you need to calm down."
"But-"
"Please, don't yell."
"I'm NOT YELLING, DAMN IT!"
"… Perhaps that is enough for today."
Piccolo sat panting on the chair, his eyes looking like a ravenous dog over Dr. Vegeta Briefs, who symbolized a hunk of juicy steak.
"Same time next week, then?"
Piccolo shook his head, trying to rid the unpleasant episode from his mind. He realized that the kid had said something to him, and, judging by her look, he had been spaced out a long time.
"I'm sorry?"
"Damn, you zone out hard. I asked if it was a sensitive subject."
"Not really, just brought back some memories, that's all."
"Oh. So, what did you and Nail do when you were my age?"
"I played some baseball, and later football... but Nailstuck withbaseball. He had a talent for it. We didn't really pursue sports, though, since we kind of got bored with it. But Nail partied a lot… And I covered for him sometimes when my old man asked where he was. Not that he really cared that much. He just didn't want to get up and two thirty in the morning getting a call form the police to come and pick up his son. We switched places a couple of times, just because I didn't have to go to school until nine, and Nail at seven. When he was really hung over, I'd go to his morning classes, and let him sleep. I don't know how normal our family was…"
"Oh, normal is a bullshit term. If there was a 'normal', there would be a handbook and a teaching seminar called 'Being Normal: Fitting in with Everyone Else'. Don't worry about it, though. My family is all bipolar, I swear. And my brother Tom sounds a lot like your brother. But my older brother Seth wouldn't help him out at all. Said he had it coming. He's my favorite brother."
"How many do you have?"
"Three."
"Wow, one's enough for me."
"I also have three sisters."
"Damn!"
"And two, soon to be three, sister-in-laws, and one brother-in-law."
"Holy shit…"
"I know, huh? I have eight nieces and nephews, too. So maybe I was wrong… I guess we ARE the 'normal' Irish family." She took another bite of cod and chewed it slowly, thoughtfully. "Tell me more."
-
By the end of the evening, the girl had just about drained poor Piccolo of all his life, minus the divorce part. She requested that he drop her off at her friend's house, because that's where her car was. When Piccolo inquired about that, she looked smug.
"Because, silly. My mom thinks I'm at her house, and sometimes passes by to make sure I am where I say I am. I just walked over to your clinic; it's not that far, you know."
"You are…"
"What?" Sarah demanded, looking ready to fight. "I'm what, green man?"
Piccolo sighed and knew he'd never hear the end of it if he said something that she didn't like. So he settled for, "You're all right."
The kid beamed and looked kind of touched. "Thanks, Pic! We're pals now, right?"
"Uh…"
"Don't worry, I won't be all Cable Guy or anything. But I have to ask what you're doing for Christmas this year."
"I…don't think I'm doing anything this year." Piccolo said quietly, making his small companion grin.
"You know you can always come to our Christmas dinner, buddy! My mom is really quite used to people coming over at any given holiday. So, if your plans remain blank, think about it."
"Um…ok?"
"Great. Oh oh, stop here. This house, with the white Buick. That's my friend's house, the one where I'm 'spending the night'. Ahaha. I'll see you later, Dr. Damioh." She hopped out of the car, and Piccolo could hear her little Converse adorned feet hitting the pavement as she ran to the front door, where she was let in a few seconds later. She waved at Piccolo and went inside.
The dentist sat back for a minute before driving away. He pondered briefly over the girl and her odd behavior. He shook it off as normal teenager stuff, though.