His name was Grindarian Schlekeivstavor, but everyone simply called him Granda because of his strong grandfatherly presence. The small town he’d lived in his whole life was barely older than he was. The town’s residents had initially given him the nickname Founding Father – though he hadn’t played any part in the town’s creation – but they’d changed it to Granda over time simply because, well, he’d aged. The kind old man loved everyone in the town, and everyone loved him in return, very, very much. Everyone except the town’s fat young mayor.

“I swear, if you’re here to discuss the old man again, I’m gonna kill something,” Mayor Horkee said through a mouthful of meat. Each of his hands held half-eaten chicken thighs and his entire face was covered in barbecue sauce that was dripping onto his dark brown pinstriped vest. He had a round, swollen baby face that, when not covered in sauce, was usually rosy pink, as if nature had run Horkee’s body through puberty but forgotten his head.

“The people have more love for Granda than they do the actual town. The guy’s a legend around here,” one of the mayor’s advisors stated reasonably in an attempt to bring some sense into the conversation.

Horkee slammed one of the chicken thighs onto the table, cracking it in half. “The old man can be a king for all I care! I’m not spending money on someone just to celebrate how old they are! What you’re asking for is more money than we spent when our own town turned a hundred. My answer is no. Don’t ask me again.”

“Hork…”

“Shouldn’t have said that, now my answer is no to the entire request. No funding. No celebrating. I don’t even want to see anyone smiling on the streets.”

The advisor stared for a moment, set his jaw, then left the room without saying another word.

_______________

Granda awoke on his hundredth birthday feeling the same as he did any other day. After fastening his suspenders, he took to the street with his cane in hand. The breeze made it look like the colorful autumn leaves were chasing each other. Granda looked around to take in the buildings and the people walking by. He took in a deep breath and was filled with an intense love of life.

Not long after he started his walk to the office, someone passing by stopped and, knowing that the mayor had outlawed celebration for the day, whispered excitedly to him, “Happy birthday, Granda!”

“Eh?” Granda said loudly, his enormous but weak ears no longer able to pick up whispered words.

The passerby came in close. She looked around cautiously, then repeated just a little louder, “I said happy birthday! You’re officially a century old!”

“A century? What’s that now? Oh! Ohh…it’s my birthday today, isn’t it?”

“Don’t say you forgot your birthday again, Granda! Well, I’m honored to be the first to remind you, make it the best one yet!” The passerby skipped away and Granda nodded with a smile, his head in half-thought, half-emptiness.

After several more low-key birthday interactions, Granda finally made it to the office where he immediately prepared to receive his first patient for their teeth cleaning. Here in this building was where Granda shined brightest. Being a dentist was all he’d ever wanted to do, and he’d been doing it since his teenage years. His was the oldest – and only – practice in the town, so his client base was the entire population.

In recent years, people had expressed mixed feelings about encouraging Granda to retire. They recognized that he’d put in his time and had earned an enjoyable retirement. They’d also seen that he wasn’t as sharp in his old age as he used to be, but they also didn’t want to lose the familiarity of having him as their dentist for so many years. So, Granda had decided to give the people what they wanted most, and his calendar remained full day in and day out.

Granda made his way through the bulk of his appointments, not a single person forgetting about his big day. After a quick break to eat lunch while blowing dusty excrement from his ancient hole, he geared up for the appointment he had been looking forward to most. A man walked through the door with both a twinkle in his eyes and on his teeth. Granda patted the chair and said, “Shawn, my boy. A most welcome sight. Take a seat.”

“How ya doin’ old timer?” Shawn asked his friend as he sat in the chair and readied himself for his routine cleaning. “Been practicing writing your age, I hope? Remember, two digits doesn’t cut it anymore,” he finished and they both laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. A hundred ain’t much different than ten. Just add a zero, and there you go,” Granda replied, putting his hands together to steady his involuntary trembling.”

“Seems like your hands beg to differ.”

“Bah,” Granda snorted, “my hands are just thanking me for a hard day’s work.”

Shawn laughed, “Very well, you cocky old bastard. Let’s get to it then,” he trailed off inaudibly. “Won’t want to be blamed for ruining the surprise.”

“What’s that?” Granda asked loudly from a few feet away as he fiddled with some utensils.

“Nothing, nothing. Just can’t wait to taste that minty polish, that’s all.” Granda didn’t know it, but Shawn had taken it upon himself to organize a surprise birthday party for Granda that would be held right there in the office. He’d been strategic about it, finding a hole in Mayor Horkee’s executive order that specifically stated that celebration in the streets and houses was banned, but failing to mention anything about places of work.

“You and that polish, never gets old. Alright, you know the drill. Open up that gob.”

Granda cleaned away while he asked Shawn all kinds of questions that Shawn would’ve been able to answer if he hadn’t had an old wrinkled hand shoved in his mouth. Instead, unintelligible noises were Shawn’s response, and that seemed fine to Granda; he just enjoyed the company.

About halfway through, “Not as quick as you used to be, eh? I guess age catches up to everyone after all,” Shawn said as a lighthearted jest.

“Boy, I may be a little shaky and my skin may be worn thin, but I’m as quick as I ever was.”

To prove his point, Granda spun away from Shawn to the counter where the utensils were sitting, but he collided with a shelf in the process. Granda grabbed hold of the shelving to keep everything from falling to the ground, but it was already too late. Containers, toothbrushes, cotton swabs, and everything else came crashing down. Included in the crash was an enormous open jar that was full of an experimental clear liquid, intended to be the new alternative to pulling teeth. Designed to target teeth alone, once the fluid touched a tooth, it immediately liquefied the bone and would re-solidify after the tooth was free from the gum, leaving nothing but a gap where the tooth once was.

The entire jar fell from the shelf and the liquid splashed all over Shawn’s face, filling his mouth to overflowing. His teeth disappeared in an instant and the liquid turned bone white. Of course, Shawn didn’t know what had just happened or what the liquid was. All he knew was that he could feel raw holes with the tip of his tongue all the way across his gum line. He was a moment away from clearing his mouth when Granda shouted, “DON’T MOVE!”

Shawn paused, nose still pointed toward the ceiling and mouth still full of white. “Please, don’t move! I can fix this! There has to be a way to reverse it all, I just…oh, think, Grindarian, think!”

Shawn couldn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to, for the fear on his face said it all. Granda hastily tore equipment and accessories from cupboards, trying to think of how he could reverse his faux pas, but time was slipping away. For a reason unknown to Granda, he began thinking of all of the memories he had with Shawn, all the good times. A tear rolled down Granda’s cheek and he recalled the deep breath he’d taken just this morning, the one that had brought a surge of love for his life and all the people in it. Now, in this moment, he could feel that love slipping away, despite trying his best to hold onto it. He grew achy as he began feeling his body age a thousand times over, but all at once. He began panting and slowed his scrambling to a stop, bending down to rest on his wobbly knees.

The dental office hung in confusing contradiction: devastatingly silent, but torn apart in panic. Finally, ashamed and unable to meet Shawn’s eyes, Granda muttered in a weak voice, “There isn’t a way to reverse it…..it was experimental, an incomplete project…..I….I’m so, so sorry.”

Another tear fell, this time from Granda’s nose to the cold, tiled ground. Still leaning on his knees, he heard Shawn stand, glass crunching under his boots, but no fluid fell from his mouth to join Granda’s tears, which meant that the liquid had solidified in Shawn’s mouth.

Shawn loomed over Granda’s exhausted body, breathing heavily through his nose, and Granda heard every breath, despite his failing ears. After a while, Granda mustered up the courage to look up at Shawn, but all he could see was what looked like a white cue ball wedged between two rows of pink gums, sitting just below a brow so furrowed that Shawn’s nose had disappeared. Granda was just about to speak when the door burst open and the entire town marched in blowing kazoos, throwing confetti and firecrackers, and howling in celebration of Granda’s one hundredth birthday.