Original posting can be found here
"$10,000 for pulling teeth."
That was the job description.
I don't think the words even registered before I clicked "accept." I saw the pay and booked the gig as fast as my thumb could move. Within minutes I was in my mom's pickup, heading out toward the address listed in the app.
The infamous SideGigz app. The latest craze in the gig economy we've come to know and love. The jobs aren't always as weird and cryptic as this one. But the tame ones don't pay as well either.
When I first signed up, I started with conventional stuff—food delivery, taxi service, amateur landscaping. Not a lot of effort if you're willing to accept minimal pay. But if you really want to make a living, you gotta scroll all the way to the bottom. That's where the good stuff lives.
The odd jobs.
The jobs that pay well because nobody is willing to do them. Now, it's not what you think. The app does its best to filter out the sexual stuff. The jobs are just…odd.
The first one I took had a heading that read: "Big pile of rocks need moving." No other details. $500 offer.
$500 to move rocks?
I could hardly believe it.
The address alone was enough to scare off a casual browser. I showed up to a dusty trailer park with a wheelbarrow and some gloves in the back of my car. I thought I'd be met with some pet project. A new driveway perhaps?
Nope.
A fidgety man with two teeth greeted me in dusty blue overalls. He packed his lip and pointed to the pile of boulders in his front lawn. Said I just needed to move them to the back. When I asked "where" he simply replied "wherever" before hobbling back inside.
I didn't understand but I obliged. The job took about an hour. I offered to do more but the man refused. He tossed me a stack of bills and waved me off.
I sat in the truck in silence. The money felt heavy in my hand as I tried to make sense of what I'd just done. Just when I thought it couldn't get any stranger, the man came back out of his house.
He must've thought I already left. Probably best he didn't see me lingering. I pulled out slow as he walked in a hurry to the back of his trailer. He approached the new pile of rubble and began carrying one of the boulders back to the same spot I moved it from.
I couldn't believe it. What was the point? Why pay so much to move the pile? Did he just like watching dudes carry rocks to his backyard? I spent the whole drive home turning it over in my head and came up with nothing. Some jobs don't make sense. I learned to live with that.
I didn't fret over this interaction for long. I took another job shortly after that made me forget all about it.
A woman paid me to come name her kittens. She claimed she made a deal with an entity a long time ago that would "lay waste to all that she claimed" in exchange for some heroin. Having someone else name her belongings was a way to circumvent that—or so she said. I sat on her shag carpet for an hour with a litter of six kittens, trying out names until she felt safe. I left with six hundred bucks and the smell of kitty litter on my clothes.
That same day I was picking up a bouquet of flowers for someone's mom.
You really never know what you're gonna get.
Sure, the gigs can get a little creepy. But it honestly doesn't bother me. I'm making a good living and my days are interesting. That's good enough for me.
Unfortunately my family doesn't see it the same way. When they found out I flunked out of college and "didn't have a real job," they had a lot to say about it.
Shameless. Disgraceful. My mom called me a loser during one of her wine-induced tirades.
I'll admit, I'm not the son you brag about to your friends. I don't have a snazzy degree and trophy family like my siblings. But hey, I'm happy with who I am. That's more than most people can say.
Sure, the work I do is strange, but its not like I am doing anything dangerous.
Or so I thought.
I was scrolling SideGigz on my couch when I came across the job.
Ten thousand dollars to pull a tooth?
I drove to the address as quick as I could. Didn't want to risk someone trying to double book the gig. The house was nestled out in the woods on the nice part of town. A wall of sycamores opened up to reveal a white two-story sitting atop a grassy hill.
The house was fancy-looking, but the vibes were off. No cars in the driveway. Not a single light on outside. And yet, everything was clean and well-kept—the yard, the exterior, the driveway.
It just felt empty.
I tried to knock three times but the door cracked open on the second rap.
"Are you here for the job?" The man was short, pasty, and wearing a robe. He had a small ring of hair around his head and the bushiest eyebrows I think I've ever seen. His eyes were almost as large as his smile.
Yeah that smile was wicked.
Thick, brick-like teeth jutted in every direction. It was hard to look anywhere else.
"Oh yeah—I'm Dave." I reached out my hand to shake his. He ignored the gesture and pulled back the door to let me inside.
I stepped into the dimly lit entrance.
"So the job said you needed a uh…tooth pulled?" I asked anxiously.
He started down the hall in front of me and waved me to follow.
The entrance was bare like the outside. The walls were a cold grey. Light from silver fixtures illuminated dark tile beneath us. There were no pictures, decor, or furniture of any kind. The aesthetic was surgical—clean and cold.
"Let's talk when we get to the room," he said very calmly.
His voice was chirpy like a cricket.
I was starting to feel the pressure now. Every step further down the creepy hallway was a step further from safety. Everything about this felt wrong.
We continued for a few long minutes before turning the corner into a room.
Plastic wrap crunched under my feet as I entered.
It looked like a scene out of Dexter.
The room was grey like the rest of the house. Bare except for an old chair sitting at the center and a cracked porcelain bathtub in the corner.
Beside the chair sat a tall metal desk. An array of surgical tools glinted under the fluorescent lighting.
"Oh shit—"
I started backing out before he interrupted me.
"I know, I know—my apologies. This must appear sinister."
He plopped himself in the chair and started adjusting against the seat back.
"I'll cut to the chase. I need dental work."
A chuckle escaped me.
"Uh, I'm no dentist, sir—"
He chuckled in response.
"Yes, of course not. You see, I'm in a bit of a bind. I'm an immigrant. I came here a long, long time ago from a place I'm sure you've never heard of." His voice was chittery, like an insect. I couldn't pin down the accent.
He pressed a small lever beneath the chair and leaned back. The fluorescent light dilated his pupils until his eyes were nearly completely black.
"I've been tardy on my citizenship and have gotten myself on your government's radar. I'd prefer to save myself a doctor's visit if I can. At least until my citizenship issue is dealt with. No need to raise any more eyebrows."
Nothing about his rationale made sense. Even if all of this were true, why would anyone pay a random guy to do dental work?
"So you're willing to pay me ten thousand dollars just to pull a tooth?"
I tried to quietly step back but the crunch of plastic wrap gave away my unease.
He laughed this time. A long, hearty laugh.
"No no dear boy, I'm going to pay you twenty thousand dollars to pull my tooth."
My heart nearly skipped a beat.
Twenty thousand dollars?
Don't need to tell me twice.
I quickly walked up to the metal tray beside him and picked up a small pair of surgical pliers.
"Which tooth?"
He grinned.
"Top left. All the way back. It's infected and I'd prefer to just take out the whole thing. I have lots more after all."
He laughed again then opened his mouth wide. It was unnatural, like a serpent welcoming its next meal.
I didn't waste any time. Within seconds I was clamping the pliers down on his large brick-tooth.
The tooth wasn't loose or discolored at all. It felt firm under the pliers. That's when I got a good look at the rest of his mouth.
How many teeth does a normal adult have? Thirty-something?
I counted thirty on the top alone. They were crowded. Some branched out of the gums like gnarled porcelain while others simply budded between larger teeth. But they weren't dirty. They were clean.
Pearly white.
I was stuck in a trance until I heard him say "go ahead." The words were muffled from my hand in his mouth but he sounded sure of himself.
I clamped down and pulled.
Nothing.
I thought I must've hurt him but he simply offered a thumbs up and returned to staring at the ceiling with his mouth agape.
I yanked again.
No luck.
Again.
A little more give that time.
One more—
Plop.
I almost fell backwards but caught my balance at the last moment. The large tooth was finally out. Bits of gum tissue and nerve endings hung loosely at the base.
I dropped it on the metal table beside the chair and decided it was time to talk business.
"So about the money—"
"Forty thousand." He muttered. His body remained fixed in the chair. His eyes were glazed and blood dribbled down his chin from my handiwork.
"Forty thousand? For one tooth?"
He chuckled, blood spraying across my shirt and catching me in the face. I started frantically wiping it off.
"No, forty thousand for you to keep going."
I smeared what remained of the blood off my forehead and took another step back.
"How many teeth?"
He spat a clot of blood onto the plastic wrapping below and sunk back into the operating chair.
"Until I say stop."
He shot me a bloody grin and opened his mouth once more.
A rational man would've ran.
For some reason I couldn't bring myself to.
Maybe the other jobs just desensitized me. Maybe the money was too good to pass up. Whatever the reason, I decided to let it play out.
I got to work on the other side of the mouth. This next tooth was smaller and round, not bricky like the first one. It popped out with a loud click. The blood really started to flow now.
He didn't even wince. Same as the first time.
I pulled the tooth beside it. Working my way around the morbid ring of enamel.
Two.
Three.
Four teeth.
The blood was getting unmanageable. He kept having to take spit breaks just so I could see what I was doing.
The swelling in his head was gnarly. Then came the pain. Small whimpers and groans escaped the strange man. His hands were tight and pale as he gripped the armrests at his sides.
The sight was unbearable.
The bloody pliers were heavy in my shaky hand. Bile was building in the back of my throat. I took a shallow breath and started backing away but he gripped me by the forearm before I could get far.
"Si…sick…" his mouth was so swollen he could barely speak at this point. "sixty-thousand…don stop."
Sixty thousand.
There's no way he's telling the truth. Sixty thousand for this?
And yet, I chose to believe.
I swallowed hard and got back to work. The next hour is hard to remember. I just kept going. I was on autopilot.
Mechanical.
Emotionless.
His whole head was twice its original size now. He was choking and moaning in pain as I tore through whatever remained.
I must've gone through forty teeth at this point. About halfway through I stopped collecting them on the metal tray. I let them fall to the waxy plastic-covered floor.
I tried to remain focused but questions kept bubbling up in my mind. What kind of being chooses this? Who would pay thousands of dollars to have his own teeth torn out?
I reached for the next tooth with my pliers but nothing remained.
I removed them all.
Every single one.
I turned away from the mess in front of me and vomited onto the floor. I was trying to compose myself when the man began to stir.
He stumbled out of the chair and began making his way toward the porcelain tub in the corner of the room. His whole body from the nose down was covered in crimson. The pain crippled him, pressing his broken body to the floor. He got on his knees and felt his way to the rim of the tub. His eyes were swollen shut so he could no longer see.
I watched in horror as he dropped the blood-stained robe and practically fell into the tub. Ice water splashed onto the wrapped floor, sending a wave of teeth and gore lapping at my feet. The broken enamel chattered at my blood-stained boots as if they were still anchored to a mouth.
He sat himself up and rested his large head against the back of the tub. It was surreal watching this bobble-headed thing try to collect itself. Its eyes were swollen shut, gums spilling out of the middle of its stretched lips like loose intestines.
Then I heard a sound. A wheezy laugh. His body jerked and spasmed as chuckles escaped the small gaps in his face.
Just then, I heard loud raps upstairs. Tiny footprints were approaching from somewhere above.
None of this was making any sense.
I had to get out.
I sprinted back the way I came. The fluorescent lights above pulsed overhead as I made my way to the exit. I could still hear the laugh. The sound of many things making their way to the bloody mess I helped create.
I was a few strides from the front door when something snagged my foot and sent me tumbling into the doorframe. I shook the fall off and frantically ripped the culprit off my foot.
It was a bag. A dark bag that blended into the black tile floor so well I could barely see it. Stacks of bills were spilling out the top.
This was my payment. Someone—or something—arranged for me to have it.
I grabbed the two black duffels and made my way out the door. Before I knew it, I was peeling down the long cement road under the cover of sycamores.
I'm not sure what to think about what happened that night. I haven't even bothered to check the bags of cash. They're still in the back of my car. A bloody reminder of the hell I put myself through for money.
When I close my eyes I still see him. I can't get the image out of my head. The toothless laughing thing convulsing in the bathtub.
As I sit here in bed, a sound startles me.
It's SideGigz.
I received a new message.
It's the man from yesterday.
Just a single line of text. An ominous four words.
"Same time next week?"