I’ve got to admit: I was surprised when Josh walked into the breakroom, and I was surprised that I was surprised. I’ve never been one for trends, not me, but he’d been a peacock for all of the three years I’d known him and I’d been sure that I’d seen every possible permutation and mutation of style and coif that the human mind could inflict adorning his lanky frame.
This was a little different though.
“Good morning,” I said, not wanting to cave that easily.
“Hell yes,” said Josh earnestly, demolishing the hell out of his bagel. He never believed in chewing slowly, Josh. “Got a good day coming up.”
“Plans or gut?”
“Gut. Just feeling good, y’know?”
“Right. Right. Right.”
I sat there. He sat there.
I gave up. “Your… teeth look good.”
“Yeah?” he said, grinning happily enough that I had to turn my eyes away from the two extra sabre-like canines that dangled from his upper jaw. “Thanks!”
“Caught me by surprise a bit. What’s going on there?”
“Just trying something new, you know?”
No. “Yeah.”
“Well, gotta run! Have a good day, eh?”
“Sure.”
He left, and I could stop pretending I was still hungry. It was hard to keep your appetite in the face of that much tooth.
***
Next morning was communal oatmeal, a bonding exercise and torture all in one. I’d just finished ladling out my bowl when Josh came down the stairs, whistling something and also something else.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“WAP,” he said cheerfully, pouring out twice what I’d taken and scraping the pot clean.
“No, not that.”
“Paradise by the Dashboard Light.”
“No, not that. How are you doing that?”
He frowned, and there was something entirely wrong about the set of his mouth. “Doing what?”
“Both of them at the same time.”
“Oh,” he said, suddenly sunny again, and he smiled properly and his lips peeled back.
“See?” he said brightly.
“Teeth,” I said.
“Right, right. And see behind them?”
Oh. “… more teeth.”
“Right! Two rows, just like sharks used to make.”
“Why?”
“Just playing around a little, you know?”
I didn’t. “Sure.”
“Well, gotta run! See you later!”
I was still only two spoons into my oatmeal as he scooted out the door.
***
In retrospect, the Friday morning meeting was when things began to slide out of control.
“…and in conclusion,” said Mr. Matheson, “miserable job by you all, just awful. Terrible, terrible, terrible. Except for Joshua, who has spent less than half the time of any of you on lunch breaks. Now THERE’S a productive man.”
“Gosh, thanks” said Josh happily, as all of us committed double homicide in our minds. “But I can’t take all the credit, sir. It’s my teeth.”
“Your teeth?”
“Yeah, I’ve got three rows of them right now.”
Mr. Matheson nodded in approval. “Great idea. I like it. It’s dynamic, it’s novel, it’s competitive. I’ve got to try that.”
“Yeah! Yeah.Yeah!”
And by Monday Mr. Matheson had four rows of teeth and Josh had five and two other up-and-comers had three each.
Lunches WERE faster, on average, but there were a godawful lot of crumbs. And from what I heard around the watercooler the local pharmacies were starting to raise their toothpaste prices.
***
“Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”
“Hello, Josh.”
“You check out the shareholder’s meeting yet?”
“No, Josh.”
“Check it out, check the video. There’s video.”
“No, Josh.”
“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease,” he said, and I had to give in because there was something about hearing a whine strained through that much dentition that made me cringe in my soul.
It looked boring, which was normal. It sounded boring, which was normal. And then the CEO opened his mouth and.
“Is that…?”
“Yeah. Yeah! YEAH!”
“Where’s his TONGUE?”
“It’s there! See? It’s still there! He just, y’know, augmented it.”
“It’s covered in teeth!”
“Yeah! He took my idea!” Josh sounded happier than any plagiarism victim I’d ever seen. “He took my idea and ran with it! God I’m proud. I’m onto something, you know. I’m onto something BIG. Gonna push the envelope. Gonna set the trends. Watch this space, man! Watch it!”
He beamed happily and walked away and it wasn’t until he’d left my office that I realized he’d replaced everything between his chin and his cheekbones with additional molars.
***
Next Friday meeting was surreal. Mr. Matheson’s crinkled watery blue eyes stared at me above a mouth that could’ve come from a sand tiger shark; my coworkers were nests of snaggle-tooth nightmares – clearly they hadn’t gotten the hang of it yet – and Josh… Well.
Well.
Josh was ahead of the curve.
“And you’ve all done awfully, just awfully, terrible this month. Total wreckage, waste and ruin,” said Mr. Matheson, shaking his head. “But we’re making up the time in lunch breaks which is nice. Very nice. Good job with that. A round of applause for efficient mastication! Oh and Mr. Grellis is on TIME magazine’s cover, so that’s nice. Buy a copy to show him you care.”
I didn’t buy a copy, but I did check the website. Sure enough, there was our CEO, wearing the most expensive and boring suit possible, straightening his tie and looking at the camera and just a pair of serious brown eyes buried in a face that had become nothing more than a field of enamel and dentine.
THE FACE OF BUSINESS, it proclaimed earnestly.
“Hey!”
I looked up. “Hey, Josh.”
“You see that?”
“Yes, Josh.”
“I’m catching on!”
“Yeah, Josh.”
“I mean, they’re giving all the credit to Mr. Grellis. But as long as I know and you know who’s the cause, that’s enough right? It’s enough, right? Right? Right? Right?”
“Sure, Josh.”
“Well, gotta run! To lunch! And then run back from it! Lunch!”
He ran. To lunch. And I was grateful for it, because it’s hard to make eye contact with someone when they’ve swapped their entire skull and all its contents with teeth.
***
By the end of the month it was on the streets. By the end of the year it was everywhere. By the end of the holidays it was step six on the VORACIOUS guidance plan to corporate efficiency and we’d just failed our audit for it.
That Friday meeting was the worst yet.
“Oh it’s all garbage, total ruination and disaster, nothing but awful, awful, awful,” said Mr. Matheson, shuffling some papers between his hands and masticating them into pieces. “Except for lunch breaks, where we are still absolutely killing it, just cleaning house. Except for you,” he added, pointing at me. “You’re holding us back, just strangling us. Shape up or ship out.”
“I’m shipping out,” I said.
“Wonderful, just amazing, astounding, great,” he said wetly, saliva glistening from the serrated edges of his forehead down to the grinding surface of his chest. “You won’t be missed. Okay! Good meeting everyone. See you after the weekend.”
“Gosh I’m sorry,” said Josh, as I cleared my desk.
“You’ve said that eleven times, Josh,” I said, pocketing my mouse.
“Yeah but I meant it every time. It was never my intention, you know that, right?”
“Yep.”
He seemed the closest I’d ever seen him to anxious, although it was a little hard to tell since his entire body was now grinding cutting or piercing surfaces. The posture seemed right, though. “Gosh I’m sorry.”
“Twelve times, Josh.”
“Really? Gosh I’m sorry.”
I waited, fistful of expensive pens in hand.
“Gosh I’m sorry. Gosh I’m sorry. Gosh I’m gosh I gosh gosh gosgogogogogggg-”
I slapped Josh on the back, carefully. Most of it was now cutting surfaces.
“Hurk! Thanks, buddy.”
“No problem at all, Josh.”
“I don’t know what this place’ll do without you.”
“Have faster lunches, apparently.”
“True, true. The world runs on its stomach, hahahaha.”
“Ha ha.”
“Where’re you going?” he asked as I walked down the hall, box in hands. “What’re you going to do?”
“Oh, I’ve got some ideas,” I said.
“Really?”
“Really. See you.”
“What ki-”
“See you,” I said, and I closed the elevator doors on his tie.
***
If the truth be told, I was applying to dental school. I’ve never been one for following trends, not me, but I recognize opportunity when I see it.