Finding any one particular house in the Woods was typically a challenging endeavour. It was getting dark and the Woods stretched on for several miles in all directions. To make matters worse, all the houses looked the same. Each one had the same two and half storeys, the same bone on eggshell colour scheme, the same overly manicured lawn, cut at exactly the same length. It would have been eerily coincidental if not for the fact they were all bought, delivered and installed from the same mail order catalogue. Securely shipped in a single, premium quality, cardboard box, Terrence’s Tents, Tombs and Tudors guaranteed overnight delivery and a 20% discount for Gnarly Pines Golf Club members. Clearly business was going well.
Thankfully, Sir Goober didn't have to spend countless hours searching. This close to the Harvest, many residents were celebrating. Which meant finding one party in a neighbourhood of rich, drunken revellers would have been difficult, except that one house had “I’ve finally got the perfect pair, Britches!” spelled out in towering six foot, gold letters, lit up on their lawn.
That’s convenient, thought Sir Goober.
Talking to Pater the Waiter, proved more difficult.
“Excuse me miss, is there a waiter here? Answers to the name Pater. Might be his actual name, might not” asked Sir Goober to the bright pink poofy dress that answered the door.
“Woohoo! Entertainment’s here, britches!” slurred the prom dress.
Before Sir Goober had a chance to correct the unsteady party dress, he was yanked into the house and hustled into an airy living room. The pristine white furniture had been arranged around a white, shiny coffee table that was conspicuously absent the usual bric a brac.
Sir Goober swallowed.
As soon as Sir Goober entered the room, all the other dresses started enthusiastically waving their sleeves, and the prom dress’ woohoo-ing seemed to spread. Then the music started.
“Um, I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I’m actually here to speak with-” began Sir Goober.
“Show us your couter, big boy,” yelled the southern belle cotillion dress.
“I bet his greaves are really hard. Yum,” remarked the French baroque dress, suggestively.
“Where’s your tasset and fauld, tin man?” teased the cocktail dress.
“I love a good cuisse. Can I touch them?” leered the little black dress.
“I call dibs on the codpiece!” laughed the wedding dress.
“Vera!” admonished the colonial period dress.
The other dresses drunkenly snickered.
Sir Goober by this point was feeling thoroughly objectified. He wasn’t just a collection of shiny metal parts. Despite being the centre of attention, what these fancy animated garments failed to realise was that he had fleshy bits as well, and those bits had complex emotions. His left elbow, for example, was reminiscing about the time it was abruptly struck by an aggressive door frame and the involuntary laughter that followed. Conversely, his left ankle wasn’t feeling much of anything but mind numbing boredom. What it wouldn’t give for some variety in Sir Goober’s sock preferences.
Feeling sullen, Sir Goober was about to get down off the coffee table when a young man, dressed like a mortician, stumbled into the room being force-ably led by the hair.
“I swear by the Candy God’s seventh crusty butt-hole. If I wasn’t here, this spandex super wedgie of an investigate would be teats up in a hot, plushy fondling, second. Here,” said the fairy. “Ask your questions.”
Sir Goober sighed. Finally, Pater the Waiter. He took a step down from the coffee table.
“Awwww,” whined the drunk party dresses.
“What are you doing?” hissed the fairy. “These dresses paid good money to watch some brainless pair of hot pants shake his cans for their enjoyment. You can ask your armpit sniffing questions from up there. Climb back onto that table and shake your shiny metal ass for these finely embroidered ladies.”
“Fine,” said Sir Goober. “But they need to keep their gloves to themselves. I have a girlfriend.”
Sir Goober stepped back onto the table, to even more woohoo-ing, and proceeded to question the waiter while thrusting to the music as rhythmically as he was able.
Unfortunately, Pater didn't know a great deal. He’d been waiting tables at the Ghost King’s 731st bi-annual pre pre-Harvest party last week and witnessed a heated exchange between GK and his dentist. Pater hadn’t been able to get close enough to determine what the argument was about but the Ghost King looked worried and the dentist clearly looked furious despite most of his face being covered by a surgical mask. Very suspicious, thought Sir Goober.
Sir Goober would have liked to ask more questions but before he could, the wedding dress’ fiance returned home to find the headless knight dancing suggestively while his head rested in the bride-to-be’s lap.
“We agreed no strippers,” yelled the fiance. At least Sir Goober assumed it was the fiance. Black, shiny with at least 4 inch heels, the expensive pair of shoes that walked through the door seemed very agitated with the wedding dress.
Sir Goober took this as a good time to leave. Grabbing his head, while trying not to get between the wedding dress and her intended matching shoes, Sir Goober made a mad dash for the door. It was time to make an appointment to see a dentist.
So, this was supposed to be an easy one... I suppose composition wise, it was, but it still took longer than predicted.
I did experiment a little bit with creating textured shadows on the teeth, which turned out pretty well. And it was nice to draw the fairy in a more detailed way for once. She is slowly getting more fleshed out in the story so taking this opportunity show her more clearly seemed like a good choice. Plus her positioning was too good an opportunity, compositionally and in terms of comedy, to pass up.
As for the idea, I figure it wasn't take original. Considering the prompt was teeth, it was inevitable to a lot of people would have chosen a similar option, but I really needed something a bit easier, plus I think it works pretty well for the story, so I'm not going to worry about it. The next one is going to be challenging enough as it is.
Anyway, let me know what you think.
More on the way.
Well, what kind of perfect match would you expect for an animated dress? As to the implications of a apparel threesome, I think these are questions best left in their closet. What a dress decides to do with her footwear is her business.
I'm probably the only artist you know that enjoys torturing himself for other people's enjoyment.
And if you are praying to Goober, well, I think you really need to talk to someone. "He's not the messiah."
I think his name is Pierre. He ascribes to the "see, bite, apologize" life philosophy. It's an aggressive approach to societal interactions but at least he's remorseful. Tough on the teeth though.
It could be. I've actually never really thought about it much. It was more of a standing in character/framing device than anything concrete. Might have to give it some thought in the next bit of the story.
The indestructible Lego! A fiend to all who crass its path the mighty mouth of this soul with sharp teeth seems a fitting place for it to dish out its formidable damage.
I really like this perspective on this, looking out from the back of the things throat. I guess we hanging onto its uvea, hope it don't mind lol.
I actually thought about drawing in the uvula, but it messed with the composition too much. And you are quite right about the Lego. I was thinking more about a cheap dental implant and it never occurred to me that it actually makes for a pretty formidable weapon.
And thanks for the kind words. I appreciate it.
Besides if you had drawn it where would we the observer hold onto? haha. And well then it servers at least two purposes then, that Lego.
Of course! It is always easy to complement good art and even more entertaining writing! : D
Poor guy, got a lego stuck in his teeth.
very nice as always! but I would be wary of Tooth faeries, they are not to be trusted especially since they are the minions of the larger more cruel bone faeries!
Actually, that the best dental implant his health care plan will allow for. Even so, the out of pocket expenses were significant...
And thanks. But not to worry. I am always on the look out against fairies. Tooth or bone fairies don't bother me, it's the nefarious leg hair fairy that scares me...
Well that's sad, I hope at least that the lego was clean and wasn't just some random lego picked up from the ground which probably a child put into their mouth.
yeah fairies are tricky fellows, good lawyers tho!