He gave Tony too much scope, he didn't supervise, he didn't look over Tony's nattily suited, padded, pinstriped shoulder. Over the past twelve years, he's often blamed himself. That devious, twisted bastard, Tony, is Felix's own fault. Let's make magic! And let's shove it down the throat of that devious, twisted bastard, Tony. Wow them with wonder, as he says to his actors. Charm the pants off them at first, not that he'd relish the resulting sight. He'll pull it off, despite all obstacles. Then he grins: the grin of a cornered chimpanzee, part anger, part threat, part dejection. He lowers his eyebrows, juts out his chin.

'Mi-my-mo-moo,' he tells the toothpaste-speckled mirror over the kitchen sink. People start to shift in their seats, and cough, and go home at intermission. If the words are not perfect, the pitch exact, the modulation delicately adjusted, the spell fails. Theeth our actorth … Should that happen, his humiliation would be total at the thought of it even his lungs blush. Too bad, because that's all he needs for his upcoming finale: a denture meltdown. His dental care is low-rent, so he's at the mercy of his unreliable teeth. He might even have been graced with music on the earphones and a semi-knockout pill.īut he can't afford such professional adjustments now. No worries, we'll get that fixed for you. Once he would have called his dentist and made an appointment, and the luxurious faux-leather chair would have been his, the concerned face smelling of mint mouthwash, the skilled hands wielding gleaming instruments. Despite the layer of pink adhesive he's applied, they don't fit very well perhaps his mouth is shrinking. Then he brushes his other teeth, the false ones, and slides them into his mouth.

Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood