Odontophobia

#1

Good evening! I've come back with the translation of my previous (humorous, I hope) Maylor story, Odontophobia! As always, I hope I did a good job - proud little Italian right here - and didn't put too many mistakes in it! (I'm getting back on track with my English, I swear, but please let me now if you see something tremendous)

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Brian Harold May - 25 years old, with a degree in astrophysics and a PhD which he had recently begun - knew very well that there was no reason to be afraid (rationally speaking).

Hell, people do that all the time, and no one's ever died, have they? Even the two children sitting next to him were giggling serene, so why was his heart about to explode? Perfect, all that was missing was the dizziness. Perhaps if he had listened to his common sense, and had breakfast, now he would not have been on the verge of a hypoglycemic crisis... But the terrible nausea that caused his stomach to twist at that moment was the same that, a few hours before, had made him freeze in front of the steaming bowl of porridge (it had seemed to him that it had turned into a three-headed monster, with raisins instead of its eyes).

- It's okay, darling, it's normal to be a little anxious. - Freddie shook his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. He was clearly amused, and he did almost nothing to hide: witnessing the breakdown of the stoic facade of his curly friend was definitely unusual. A sudden flash suggested that Freddie had just taken a picture of him: - This goes on Instagram, sweetheart, my hundred thousand followers demand drama. -

Brian was about to insult him badly, but a new wave of pain made him twist on thechair: it was the end. What a pathetic death, what a terrible fate! He was out of breath, his sight was becoming blurred, the sounds around him turned into a single, long whistle... and that glow? Was it the famous light at the end of the tunnel? Yes, he could see the gates to Heaven! Finally, that long agony was over! 'I'm coming, John Lenn- SLAP!'

- Mercury, what the fuck are you doing?!?

Freddie started laughing loudly, the hand that had slapped him still in mid-air.

- Sorry, honey, but you were becoming hysterical. My God Brian, all these stories for a cavity!

A cavity? That was not a cavity in his mouth, Brian thought, but a whole team of bricklayers equipped with pneumatic hammers! And all because he ate way too many sweets for one or two days... Okay, maybe even three or four, but this did not justify the fact that now he found himself with a crater in his right molar: he had however kept an enviable oral hygiene (considering the urticaria that the word 'dentist' triggered), he did not deserve it.
Probably his tooth enamel reacted very badly to all the sugars other than those of his beloved fruit: but it had been his birthday, and even for a health-conscious person like him, not indulge a little (how good could the Red Velvet be? It had also been decorated with stars and dark chocolate guitars) would have been excessive: he was a vegetarian, not a healthy food terrorist.

- I'm not making a fuss, Freddie, you know my hatred for this place! The mere thought of someone putting those hellish tools in my mouth, without me seeing them, makes me very anxious. And itchy. No, do not start saying it's for my own good and crap: if it didn't hurt like a bitch...

- Ssssh, darling, keep your voice down!

- Yes, curly, your charming friend is right: you keep it down .

The moustached guy in the back of the waiting room had finally decided to stop checking out Freddie (squeezed into a pair of dark leather shorts) to give Brian an angry glance, but the astrophysicist didn't care. He didn't like him at all, and moreover, he looked like one of the Village People: Brian hated the Village People.

- I'd leave it rotting where it is, at the price of not making out with someone for the rest of my life!

Not that he had expectations of romantic nature in his future, at least not after Chrissie had left him three days before their seventh anniversary, when Brian had already bought the ring and was about to propose her.

- Are you okay, sir? -

One of the two children, the chubby and blond one, looked at him with big green-blue eyes.

- Be a good boy Ben, leave him alone - his mother - an attractive woman in her mid - thirties who didn't bat an eye during Brian's tantrum, too absorbed (at least, apparently) in reading a fashion magazine - immediately scolded him.

- No, please, don't worry! - Brian quickly re-composed himself, determined to regain some of his savoir-faire and, after clearing his voice, he turned to the little one: - Everything is fine, Ben, I'm just a bit nervous: I don't think I'm as brave as you are.

- Mom says that only gutless and pathetic people are afraid of the dentist, and I'm not pathetic, am I Joe?

The other child stared at him adoringly: - No Ben, you're the bravest of them all! - he answered promptly, to which Ben puffed out his chest, flattered.

Brian smiled, and for a minute he forgot about the tooth, the pain, and did not notice Freddie slipping an excited "Oh Sweet Mother!" at the sight of the photo of a certain part of the body that Jim had just sent him: those two were really adorable, they reminded him so much of himself and Tim, when they were in kindergarten.

- Hey, Mr. Pathetic, look at this! - Brian was shaken from his momentary trance and turned his gaze to Ben who, keeping his mouth open with both hands, proudly showed off his bloody gum - I hit the door and lost a tooth! Mom says that maybe the doctor will stitch me up! But I don't want to, it's funny to see the food turn red every time I bite..., s-sir. Pathetic?

Brian knew that he had taken on all the possible shades of green and yellow: just long enough to recover for a moment, that scene worthy of Stephen King's bloodiest book was in front of him. The room started spinning.

- I'll get you!

Freddie was quick to prevent him from crashing ruinously on the ground, and began to wave him with a newspaper: - Stay with me, darling! Madam, would you mind bringing me a glass of water? - the woman nodded in dismay and rushed to the water dispenser. Ben had remained, literally, with his mouth wide open and a guilty expression painted on his pale face.

- Is he dead? -

- Let's hope so... - It was the guy with the mustache talking again.

- No, dear, he's not dead, he's just a wuss. Quick, help me lift his legs!

- I- I'm fine Freeeeddie, reeaaally... - Brian, half lying on the floor, came to his senses.

- You'll be fine when I say so! Drink this, and no more jokes Brian! My poor heart can't handle this pressure any more. Do you know that fear causes the skin to age prematurely? You want to see me at 30 full of wrinkles, huh? And be glad that Deaky didn't come, he wouldn't have been so patient. -

The astrophysicist struggled to get up on the chair, and began to breathe slowly, trying to calm down: the child was right, he was simply pathetic.

- Excuse me, Mr. Path-- I mean, Mr. Brian, I didn't want to scare you. - Ben mumbled, staring at his toes.

- Yes, he's not bad, I swear!. - Joe echoed him with a thread of voice.

Brian was about to reassure them and tell them that no, it wasn't their fault, but his damn odontophobia, that the door of the studio opened slowly.

- Next... Brian May?