It was his teeth that first told him. The teeth are always the first thing to tell you of mortal decay. The teeth are an initial indicator of so many things. They tell you if you are healthy. They tell you if you are poor. They tell you if you have a bad diet. The teeth tell you if you cannot afford a dentist, no matter how much you may wish for one. The teeth rub it in and shame you. The teeth tell you not to smile, lest someone judge them, because your smile spreads misery and fear instead of pleasure. The teeth move and shift, and occasionally break, when you get punched in the mouth enough. The teeth won't let you chew. The teeth, cracked open, rotting, stinking like shit, making sure you will never kiss another girl without fear of disgusting her. The Teeth won't ever get better, not without money, so you best hide them as well you can. That's just part of getting old, I guess. That big lie in the back of your mouth that you don't like to advertise. Those teeth, supposed to cut meat from living flesh...