I hope you enjoy, personally I don't really like that story that much, some of it seems very flippant. I decided to upload it just to see what other people think of it so please read and review and criticise as much as you like. Enjoy....


Martha hated false teeth.

Martha's husband had false teeth.

Martha hated her husband. Every night he pulled out his yellowing teeth, scrubbed them mightily (though Martha thought all that effort was a bit late in his life) while spluttering endless phrases of unknown songs through his caved in lips and gummy gums. The teeth were then ceremoniously placed in a large glass beside their bed. The uppers and the lowers slept there every night, if that's what teeth do at night in a glass of water.

Martha's teeth were perfect, white, shiny and unblemished specimens(not a single filling, which was unheard of for people her age). Teeth that ones' dentist always wants to show off proudly, and take credit for. She bought toothpaste and toothbrushes by bulk and brushed her teeth at least once after every meal, every snack, every nibble. She really didn't want false teeth.

Martha really hated false teeth.

Overall her life was going along as well as could be expected, apart from the fact that she was married and really didn't like her husband's teeth or her husband. She was still living in her own house at the ripe old age of 76, and was as healthy as a mung bean and as able as any 50-year-old. Actually it was because of these facts, the '50-year-olds' were rather jealous and often snobbed Martha at the local bingo nights. But Martha didn't care, she just flashed her polished gleaming pearly-whites at them and sat with her 70+ friends, whom were mostly too blind or senile to appreciate the luxurious molars. But then, she probably could have rocked up to bingo with purple and orange hair to the same effect on these aged friends. Martha was popular in the community. She volunteered at the local OP shop, helped out at the community centre, ran the Flower Club, and played bowls...lawn bowls, at every possible chance.

When Martha's husband retired, he discovered that lawn bowls had stolen his wife's heart. Bill didn't appreciate his wife going off, all day some days, to roll black balls up and down a piece of lawn with a bunch other like minded fanatics. Bill had dreams, even in this latter stage in his life and Martha was very much part of it. Except, Martha was the Lawn Bowls Regional Champion and holder of the "Samantha Beveridge Memorial trophy." She was considered the hottest thing since the brilliant Miss Erin Wolfe, in both talent and looks.

Miss Wolfe, who was now into her 90th year, resided in the local nursing home thinking she was a ballerina. She spent her days in her flowing chiffon dressing gown, doing pirouettes and plies around the nursing home's gardens. And yet, she was still very agile for a 90-year-old, and could pull off a pretty good pirouette. Her model-like beauty had unfortunately faded to the point where she looked remarkably similar to a shriveled-up plum. Her brilliant lawn bowling career long forgotten by her, however, all the men over eighty were still very keen on the renowned Miss Erin Wolfe.

But Martha, had the rest of the single and married pensioners under eighty keen on her. She pulled the biggest crowd ever seen at a lawn bowl's tournament, since the '89 final when the celebrated Miss Erin Wolfe and the much younger rising star, Mrs Samantha Beveridge had played. God rest her soul. Poor Samantha was ahead in the third end when the pressure got to her, and she was taken away in an ambulance after suffering a heart attack. Sadly, Samantha had passed away in the ambulance but the trophy was renamed the 'Samantha Beveridge Memorial Trophy.'

Basically Martha's life was going along just peachy until the 20th May. The day that changed her life forever. It had begun so normally too, receiving the usual few grunts from her inanimate husband, who now spent all his time on the couch in front of the TV in his underwear eating ice blocks. He liked the way ice blocks crunched in his mouth, and hated the way clothes itched against his skin. Beside him sat a pile of glossy travel brochures to an assortment of nudist colonies.

Martha left the house to attend the Flower Club's monthly meeting, after supplying Bill with an ice-cream tub full of ice blocks. She was strolling down the main street, precariously holding a box containing one her renowned black forest cheesecakes liberally covered in fresh cream and fresh cherries, not the glace sort that some people used. This cheesecake was right up there with her best-ever made ones.

Waving happily and calling greetings to her neighbours, Dill and Dora, the fragile and semi blind twin sisters, also out walking on that beautiful summer morning, Martha failed to see the long gnarled stick which seemed to be rather attracted to her feet. Of course the stereotypical thing happened, she ended up on the ground covered in cheesecake and cream, and rolling in the gutter with a bunch of runaway cherries. But, as she opened her mouth to tell the passer-byes that she was okay, teeth and blood gushed forth. This sent off Dill and Dora, who started hyperventilating before collapsing next to the horrified Martha. Martha sat stunned, staring at her broken teeth, her perfect, stunning white teeth which were now nothing more than bleached corncob-like blobs on the ground surround by the brilliant red cherries. She too started hyperventilating...

The hospital, who knew Martha well, had taken the liberty of calling in Dr Herbert to measure up Martha for a set of dentures while she was unconscious. But Martha had been in a state of depression since the accident and flatly refused to put them in. Even Sister Larissa, a chirpy old biddy from the community centre couldn't cheer her up. Next to her bed were several large bunches of flowers. The largest being from the green-eyed 50-year-olds. The superb white lilies stood there taunting her, "Martha, you're not so perfect anymore. You have no teeth, hee hee, no more beautiful white teeth," before breaking off into evil laughter. Nonetheless, Martha couldn't throw them out just in case they came and visited.

"Aren't they splendid Martha? A magnificent set of dentures!" Dr Herbert her dentist coaxed, producing a beautiful pair of shiny white new false teeth, "Here try these on."

"No!" Martha sat on the bed, her lips firmly closed.

"I'm leaving," Martha mumbled, ignoring the yells of the hospital staff that she hadn't been signed out. She didn't care.

After taking the most isolated way home, in an attempt to avoid contact with anyone, she entered her house to be confronted with a fully naked Bill spread out on the couch. It wasn't a good sight. His pale, wrinkled skin hung limply off him and curly white hair covered his ancient body. Martha decided then and there her husband had definitely passed his used by date. He grunted a greeting at her arrival.

"What in the earth are you doing? Have you gone insane? What if people came over?" Martha cried, urgently looking out the window for any visitors arriving at such an inappropriate moment. Martha sighed too soon as high wavering voices floated down the hall.

"Martha! Martha dear are you here? Your front door was closed so we came in through the back, is that alright? We saw you coming home, are you alright dear?"

Suddenly from the hall stumbled Dill and Dora, the half-blind twins. Martha stood frozen, her toothless mouth agape in horror.

"I'm just going to sit down Martha dear, is that okay? I'm feeling a bit poorly," Dill said and stumbled over to the couch where Bill was. He had sat up but looked completely unperturbed by the unexpected visitors. Dill positioned herself next to him, accidentally brushing his hairy leg with her arm.

"Are these wool trousers you're wearing Bill darling?" Dill asked.

"Umm...yes they are. They're new," Martha said.

"I think you should use more Softly when you wash Martha dear, they're a bit prickly. Maybe I should buy a pair." Dill was rubbing her hand up and down the old man's leg who, scarily enough, was starting to looked interested.

"No, no. They're rare, very rare. Hard to get. Very uncomfortable to wear, very bad buy."

"Pity, it would make all the other biddies jealous, don't you think Dora? Hey what's this?"

"Martha, are you in there? We're here to see how you are."

Martha staggered, holding on the nearby chair for support as she heard the chorus of voices out the front. She saw the door knob turning and made a big effort to lock the door but no avail. It opened to admit the 50-year-olds.

"We heard what happened so we decided we had to come and cheer you up. Did you get our flowers?" Tina, the leader, if there was one, said pushing past Martha and into the house.

"Oh, we met Sister Larissa too so she's come with us. We know how much you enjoy her guidance and company," she said as she put down a huge cardboard box on the kitchen bench.

"My special black forest cheesecake for afternoon tea,' said Tina smiling, "My mother's recipe of course."

"Um, thanks, but I'm sort of busy and..."

"Look, it's Dill and Dora. How are you both?" Tina said.

"A little off colour, Tina dear, but you should feel these new wool trouser Bill is wearing. They're a bit prickly, but I've told Martha to use more Softly," Dill said.

Martha promptly sprang into action.

Calmly, she proceeded to clap her hands together in delight hoping the ladies wouldn't see the beads of perspiration gathering on her brow, and the gap where her teeth used to be, which she had forgotten about until then.

"Bill, go into our room and get some, ah, doilies! Yes, we need doilies," she mumbled, self-consciously keeping her mouth half closed.

"Look, there's Billie-Jean and old Joe kissing under the big fig tree," Martha cried, pointing out the open door. Billie-Jean was the local pensioner go-getter, and any gossip about her and her immoral rampages was always invaluable information. Even Sister Larissa turned and hurried to the open window, as Bill snuck out of the room.

"I can't see them, where did you say?" Sister Larissa asked.

"Oh sorry, I must have been mistaken," Martha said, sighing in relief. She couldn't believe her luck, so with a big smile on her face, and ignoring the ladies' shocked face at her gaping smile (no doubt there would be large gossip sessions later about it), she led them to the lounge room and began to serve Tina's special black forest cheesecake, which she noted was decorated with glace cherries. However, Martha was the ultimate hostess in any situation and said nothing.

"Martha, I couldn't find the doilies," said Bill, standing in the doorway, still buck-naked. Tina screamed in shock at the sight, and poor Sister Larissa promptly keeled over.

"..Bill, what, what do you...what are you...Bill!" Martha screamed, Bill backpedaling in shock at her yelling.

"I'm sorry but there were no doilies."

"What? Bill, get out of here now."

Bill quickly retreated and Martha turned her attention back to the mayhem in her lounge room. Sister Larissa was still on the floor with a few of the ladies fanning her and holding a cold compress against her forehead. Several others were still standing/sitting in absolute horror and shock.

"This is the last time we're coming to your house," Tina fumed.

"I'm sorry, I don't - "

"You are such a ...a..., I bet we were lucky we managed to catch you with clothes on."

"What? Well, I bet you're just jealous!"

"How dare you insult me like that you, you...tart."

"Dear, dear. I think this requires a play-off," said Dora quietly from her spot in the corner, as Dill nodded in agreement, "But why are they all so cross about Bill not finding the doilies?"

"I don't know Dill dear, but we do live in strange times and some people just don't like doilies anymore."

Sweat ran down her forehead and she chewed her lip in concentration, it was up to this last delivery. Tina had bowled outstandingly on the slow green but Martha desperately needed to win this play-off, to salvage her pride and reputation. A flock of white dresses shaded by white hats had gathered at the rink, as word of the challenge had spread like bush fire throughout the small town, and way beyond the bowling community. Blood pressure was running high amongst the spectators at the importance of this challenge, many fanning themselves, some even surreptitiously swallowing pills. The excited chatter softened to a whisper and stopped as Martha slowly extended her arm, carefully releasing the shiny black ball. It rolled gently towards the jack, seemingly to take its own time, curving and curving before resting against the small, white ball. Tina politely shook the extended hand and didn't comment as the elated Martha's mouth formed into a large toothless smile.

A few hours later, a few sherries later and many congratulations later, Martha arrived back home. Upon entering she saw Bill lying naked on the couch again.

"What are you doing? Why on earth are you naked?" she asked.


"Because what?"

"Because you're the most beautiful woman in the world and I..."

"Do you think I'm some sort of sex object of something?" Martha demanded.


"Well what? Oh, who cares? Let's go," she said grabbing her husband and dragging him off to the bedroom. Who needs real teeth when you could have a man who would humiliate himself in front of all those people just to get her to notice him? Seriously?

The End.