National Tooth Fairy Day


One thing that gremlins really love is money. They don’t care about its value, of course — the exchange rate between coins and reality means nothing to them. What they like is the theatre of it. The shine. The "ker-chiing" sound in cartoons when it gets mentioned as a plot device.  The crinkle. The mysterious smell of pockets and countertops and forgotten birthday cards. But most of all, they adore how money attracts attention.

And attention, as any gremlin will tell you, is the gateway to snacks.

If proffered correctly — with wide eyes, suspicious politeness, and perhaps a little drool — money frequently results in large quantities of socially sanctioned candy for binge-eating. Which, from a gremlin’s perspective, makes it the most powerful magic known to humankind.

So when I tried very carefully to explain the concept of the Tooth Fairy — a real, highly trained professional with a night schedule, an impeccable record for stealth operations, and a union that takes dental logistics very seriously — what the gremlins appeared to understand is that:

🦷teeth🦷= 💵cash💵

…and frankly, that’s really all they needed to know, isn’t it?

Within minutes, they had drawn several alarming conclusions, escalating in intensity:

  1. Humans grow money in their mouths.

  2. The Tooth Fairy is essentially a travelling tooth-broker with very strict paperwork.

  3. Supply chains can be accelerated. 

I should have noticed the warning signs when They Had Questions.  I should know better.  This isn't just my life now, it's how life has been for a while.  

By bedtime, they had organized what I can only describe as a tooth acquisition strategy meeting. There were diagrams. There was a flowchart. Someone produced a sack.  For some reason this involved exaggerated gestures made by Dennis, asserting himself as the leader of this particular campaign of cretinism, waving a spoon and handing out rubber bands like a Las Vegas croupier. 


Dennis began asking extremely detailed questions like, “Does the Fairy accept… slightly used teeth?” and “Is there a bulk discount situation?” 
 



Flags.  Red Flags.  Everywhere.  All the Flags.  All the wheres.  Like a PARADE.


The Tooth Fairy, to her immense credit, is used to odd circumstances. She has dealt with pillow-fort security systems, last-minute bribe notes written in glitter, and one memorable incident involving a hamster who absolutely refused to relinquish custody of a molar.

But I’m fairly certain even she was not prepared for a trio of gremlins politely presenting a carefully curated selection of “future earning opportunities” while asking if she took reservations.

To her professional credit, she handled it beautifully. She left a note explaining that only naturally shed teeth qualify under Fairy Code, Section 4, Sub-clause B: “No harvesting, no shortcuts, and absolutely no ‘expedited removal services.’”

The gremlins were disappointed, of course. But also impressed. After all, they respect a good system.

Dennis now checks his pillow every morning, just in case, and has taken to brushing his teeth with intense dedication. Using a tooth brush he has ramshackle-engineered by lashing it to an angle grinder.  Not for hygiene, you understand — but because he is convinced that a well-maintained investment portfolio is simply good financial planning. 


 He maintains that he this is far from chaotic, he's capitalist, which is somehow more alarming.


And honestly? The Tooth Fairy could do worse than a few gremlins learning patience.


Especially if it keeps them from inventing dental capitalism.