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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2215302-The-Hornswagglin-Dentist
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · History · #2215302
Even pirates have to visit the dentist sometimes. Actually did some research for this! :)
Dialogue 500 Contest Entry
March 2020
360 words

“Say ahhhhhh…”

“Aaaaaarrrrrrrrr...”

“Nay, ahhhhhhh…”

“Aaaaaaarrrrrrr, matey.”

“Close enough, Cap’n.”

“Aye, it better be, Gunner Tate.”

“So what be causin’ me pain?”

“Methinks it be som’n called a cavity.”

“What be caves havin’ t’do with it, Tate? Them’s fer hidin’ treasure.”

“Nay, cap’n. Cav. It. Tee.”

“Ah, I see. So what be caves and tees be doin’ in me mouth?”

“Mayhap it be from the scurvy. We ain’t be havin’ fresh food for’n the better part o’ three weeks!”

“Blimey, Tate. If ye goin’ ta be castin’ aspersions on me command, ye best be ‘spectin’ ta feel the sharp end o’ me cutlass.”

“Cap’n?”

“Aye?”

“I-I need ta use the ‘ead.”

“Make ye haste, Tate. Me teeth’s in pain ‘ere, ye scallywag! I’d hate ta hafta feed the fish wit’ ye!”

***

“Takin’ yer sweet time, are ye now, Tate? Even inspite o’ the black spot I put on ye?”

“Aye, cap’n. ‘Twas… necessary.”

“Well, shiver me timbers, man! We ain’t got ‘til the Royal Navy be ‘pon us now!”

“What be this bottle fer?”

“Fer the pain, sir.”

“Rum? So ye want me three sheets ta the wind, ye old salt?”

“If’n ye ain’t be usin’ yer chew stick, then ye leave me no choice but ta pull the hurtin’ tooth.”

“Ye better’n be pullin’ me peg ‘bout this ‘ere tooth needin’ ta be yanked out me mouth. There’ll be hell ta pay if’n ye be in error on such a tender point.”

“I-I kn-know, sir. N-now where’d I lay me damn pliers…”

***

“Avast ye, Tate!”

“C-cap’n?”

“Still hurts, Tate. Hornswagglin’ me on yer dental skills, are ye, ye son of a biscuit eater?”

“B-but sir! I p-pulled…”

“...the wrong tooth, ye right foul git! Sawyer? Twain? Shackle this shark bait and take ‘im for a long walk off the shortest plank in the ol’ orlap. Now heave ho, men!”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Cheer up, Tate. No prey, no pay, sailor. ‘Tis better, at least, than dancin’ the hempen jig under a navy gallows. See ye in Davy Jones’ locker, me friend... And don’t ferget yer piece o’ eight, ye bastard.”

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2215302-The-Hornswagglin-Dentist