Last month after Trixie’s top teeth had come in and the swelling and pain subsided, she discovered she had something new up there to bite against. I can’t imagine what a weird sensation it must be to not have opposing teeth (although I’ll probably get a taste of it in about 50 years.) Conversely, it was a curious situation for Trixie as she realized she was no longer biting against soft, wet gums. They had been replaced with hard, enameled, little chisels. And these new things make noise.
For almost a solid week the most horrible, terrifying noises came out of Trixie’s mouth. clik, clik, clik. clik. clik. grrrrrrrind. griiiinnnd. clik. These are faint noises, and you can’t easily pinpoint their origin. Trixie also doesn’t betray herself as the source. She just sits there the whole time, quietly, eyes huge, lips locked shut. clik. clik-click. clik. clik.
The noises are reptilian or maybe insect-like. They are the sounds you hear in science fiction movies right before something very awful happens to a little-known actor. These are the sounds that pierce your brain because they were hardcoded in our primitive ancestors as signs of danger long ago. These are the sounds that make you want to throw on the light after you’ve softly tiptoed into the nursery at 3am because you thought you heard Trixie cry out, but now you just sense some faint movement and feel a pair of giant black eyes watching you out of the gloom. clik. clik.