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// A Forgotten Brush 
// Story: A Forgotten Brush 
// by Wing Dancer 
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I was walking in the moonlit streets of Ponyville, too deep in thoughts to care where I was going. My life fell to ruin, my whole career was torn apart, everything flipped upside down. All because of one pony, one disgustingly pink, maniacally happy mare.


* * *


I took a brief look at the mirror. I put a stray hair back in my mane, striped with light and dark blue strands. The image of Colgate, Ponyville’s most accomplished dentist smiled back at me, displaying a set of perfectly cared for white teeth. Yes, I was happy.

Ever since I was little, ponies told me I was kind of strange. While other fillies freaked out at the mere mention of a dentist, I smiled widely each time I heard we were going to visit old Dr. Signal. Maybe because I never got to hear how a drill works, or how it feels when something pointy like that goes in your mouth and bites into your teeth.

I always washed and flossed my teeth three times a day, much to the approval of the doctor. He told me that my visits were the most pleasant for him and that I was his most favorite patient. All he ever did was a routine checkup, marveling at my pearl-white teeth. Not a single cavity, healthy gums, every tooth neatly on its place, in line with the others.

Since a visit was scheduled to last half an hour and only a third of that was actually used in my case, Dr. Signal would always let me stay a while longer and tell me about dental health care. It was fun to hear about the different apparatus he used in his work and why healthy teeth were so important in a pony’s life.

I was pretty shocked when one day my cutie mark appeared. It wasn’t what I hoped for. Nope, it wasn’t a toothbrush, a tube of paste or a white, shining smile. It was an hourglass. Everypony told me that meant I should make them. Or that I’ll be doing something important with time, such as being an Olympic judge or something.

Well, I’d have none of that. A cutie mark is just something that happens, right? A special talent, just one thing a pony is good at. Me? I knew I could be good at multiple things. And I did everything in my power to become somepony important, just like Dr. Signal. I wanted to be a dentist.

Fast forward a few years, it was my graduation day in Canterlot University. I wasn’t maybe the top of my year, but I knew I’d make Dr. Signal proud. If he could only see me that day, beaming, my smile outshining even the brightest students…but he couldn’t.

He quit his practice as I began my University years. We talked a lot, mostly about teeth. The old pony was my inspiration and always kept my spirits high, even when I cried over the tides of books that I thought I could never understand. He had a saying, more a catch-phrase that he always sang to little fillies that were afraid or crying.

“Brushie brushie, two times a day, clean your teeth, scare the dentist away!”

I never got how that was supposed to be cheering somepony up or making them giggle. But that simple foalish rhyme somehow helped me through all the hard years at school. I cried, I sang that song, I brushed my teeth and I passed, year after year. The semester prior to my graduation was the most difficult, it was at that point that I almost walked away. Why?

Dr. Signal passed away. It was in his sleep, and the family said that he was old and there was nothing that could have been done. I cried rivers at the funeral, still muttering that dumb little song, hearing his voice ever so clearly in my ears.

How did I push through? I have no idea. Maybe, from high above, my best friend in flossing watched over me, giving me courage to reach for my dreams. And I dreamed of giving others smiles as long as miles, ones that could outshine the sun.

And now, after all the hardships, all my hard work, I was here. In my old mentor’s practice. In the same room I spent so much time with my best friend. Sometimes, when I waited for the next patient, I could still faintly hear his hoofsteps, shuffling around, looking for that one mirror that he always misplaced. He would find it easily now, placed in a cabinet on display. Right on the wall I could look at while working.

“Doctor? Your next patient is here,” said my assistant, a white coated colt going by the name of White Stain.

“Okay, send him in,” I nodded, smiling at him. He was a very nice stallion, and our relations were quite warm. I wondered when he would finally ask me out. Or maybe it was me who had to do the asking?


* * *


“I’m sorry, doctor, another patient cancelled their visit,” muttered the head of White Stain. He didn’t make eye contact. It was like this for the past few days now.

“Fine. Thank you,” I said.

He silently closed the door, hopefully not hearing me sigh. Today wasn’t a nice day at all. White Stain finally asked me out nearly a week ago, but it didn’t go as I expected it.

The music was right, the water was refreshing and we were full after a good meal at the fanciest Ponyville restaurant. I learned that White Stain also was a patient of the late Dr. Signal. We both shared a lot of memories of the old timer, most of them funny and endearing.

“I’m having a wonderful time,” I said, standing up from my pillow and flexing my body. Yes, I saw him check me out. I did nothing to make it difficult for him. “Too bad it’s so late….”

“Umm. Colgate,” started the colt, blushing like crazy. The red worked pretty well with his otherwise white coat. “You know…we don’t have to stop here.”

“Oh really? What are you suggesting, then?” I tried to play it cool, fearing that the heart pounding against my chest would give me away. He was a really handsome colt, and we had so much in common. And there was no way I wanted to end the night like this.

“Uh. You know. Maybe. M-Maybe we could go to my place…or your place, if you’d like that is,” he stuttered, waving his hooves around a bit. It was endearing how confused he was. I know I would be a gibbering mess too if it was me asking him out.

“Your place is fine,” I cooed, feeling warmth in my cheeks. So what that I never was at his place. So what that I had second thoughts about this. So what that I wanted to correct myself and hastily retreat. Going a bit crazy every now and then never hurt anypony, right?

I guess I learned the hard way that going too far too fast can end up bad. We went to his place and I should have reacted when the first red flags appeared. He was a gentlecolt by letting me in first, so I waved my flank a bit for him. He smacked it lightly. That was a flag I should have noticed, not written off as something minor. Then we had some white wine. A lot of it. And that was the next piece of red cloth I should have seen.

Finally, it was getting really late and I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay over. I didn’t wash my teeth or floss after the meal, which wasn’t like me at all, but I guess I was too drunk to pay attention to that. I remember mumbling something about having to go home, but he insisted I stayed. 

“But where would I sleep?” I asked, eyes half-lidded out of drowsiness. He took it as something completely different.

“My bed is large enough, Colgate,” he said, bringing his face close to mine. He stopped barely an inch or so away from my muzzle. I could smell his breath, alcohol mixed with fried seaweed. It didn’t disturb me back then, though. His face was so close to mine.

As if compelled by an alien force, or a form of gravity field, I leaned forward, placing my lips on his. We kissed. At first, it felt nice. I reveled in the flush of heat I felt in my cheeks and the air that suddenly pumped into my head, making me feel lightheaded. It was deep, it was emotional. But it didn’t last long.

His tongue slid into my mouth. I didn’t like that. His hooves wrapped themselves around my back and drew me in closer. I didn’t like that. When I felt his body against mine, when he tried to make me sit on his lap, that was the moment when enough was enough. I slapped him hard, stunning him for a second. He broke the kiss and looked at me with a sheepish stare.

“Oh, playing hard to get, are we?” he whispered, pecking me on the lips. I didn’t like it when he went down to the chin, and he earned himself another, harder slap on the muzzle when he licked my neck.

“Hey, stop that!” he yelled, pouting as if I was doing something wrong.

“No! You stop that! Let go!” I squirmed in his tight embrace, the buzz from alcohol quickly replaced by panic. He didn’t want to let go. He squeezed me hard, making my imagination go rampart with images that presented what I felt happening down below.

“Let go!” I screamed, flaring up my horn and giving him all I had. He finally released me, flying backwards and off the sofa.

I fled the scene, crying, not caring to see if he was alright or not. When I came back home, I brushed my teeth, flossed, then brushed again, scraping my tongue to get that awful taste off my mouth. I gurgled and gurgled, spitting out foam, then squeezing out more toothpaste and brushing again.

I was still shaking when hot water from the shower hit my body. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. He was a nice colt, he should have just taken me home, put a coat around me and kissed me gently at my doorstep. Then again, I did give him the idea of going to his place. That usually means one thing, right?

I think I fell asleep under the shower that day, thankfully turning off the water. In the morning, White Stain was there, sitting at the reception, his face buried in a magazine. I crept past him, but I’m sure he noticed me. How could he not?

That was also the first day a patient cancelled his visit. The colt came to tell me that, and I noticed he had a plaster strapped to the side of his face. He didn’t look me in the face. Even if he did, I didn’t dare look at him either.

It was downhill from that day.


* * *


It took some snooping around to uncover what was the source of all these ponies cancelling their appointments all of a sudden. There was only one possibility, and that was another practice being opened in town. It could be either better or cheaper, and I had to know which of these factors I’d have to battle. If it was money, I could work with that, it’s not like I needed more than I had. But if he had a better quality of service, now that would be a problem.

Still, it seems that answers come from the least anticipated directions, always biting you in the flank. The one responsible for my decline in clients was both my ally and enemy – candy. Sugarcube Corner candy to be more specific.

I had nothing against the place, and I knew they made delicious sugar-free treats for ponies such as me, namely those that didn’t like to eat sweets unless necessary. But this time? This time it was different. Word on the street was that a certain mare, Pinkie Pie, invented a brilliant formula for chewing gum. She named it Morebit, a lame pun considering just how amazing the thing was. In short, the treat cleaned your teeth. No brushing, no flossing, nothing, you just chew it and your mouth was clean, teeth gaining shine with each ‘dose’.

“How does it work?” I asked in amazement, looking at the mile long queue for that one sweet.

“Oh, something like this!” exclaimed the inventor, a sickly pink earth pony, waving her hooves around. “It goes whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Round and round your mouth, scraping with tiny little claws all the doughnuts, pies and cakes you ate that day and aaahh! Your teeth are clean and your breath smells like candy, but better! Haaaaa! See?”

Indeed, the intense smell of mint was pretty nice. But despite the explanation, I still didn’t get how this darn thing could make me, a professional dentist, loose patients. Ponies still needed check-ups, right? They still had their old cavities, fillings and more dire needs, right?


* * *


I finished packing up my equipment. Tenderly, I put Dr. Signal’s mirror into an empty carton box. It deserved at least that much. I looked around the empty room. So many memories, so many hours, nearly half my life spent in this place. Well, it felt like half my life. It was dying. It just went away, like snow in the Spring sun. One that shone from the wrapping paper of Morebit.

Yes, a single piece of gum, sold at one bit per four, drove me out of business. Ponies never liked check-ups, so they just skipped them. Their teeth were clean, or at least they thought so by looking at the mirror, so they didn’t care to let a trained eye look at them.

I admit, the treat was effective, but it only masked the plaque. The gum did nothing to care for the health of gums unless ponies brushed. And I was sure they didn’t, lulled into a false state of security by that stupid mare’s candy.

I tried to tell her of the hazards, that she needed to stop selling that or at least print a message on the wrapped that proper flossing and brushing is still necessary. She had none of that. She just brushed me off, like some kind of dandelion stuck between her teeth.

I was devastated. I had to look for another job. Ponies didn’t need me anymore. All I had was a diploma, lots of equipment that still wasn’t paid off, an assistant that quit as soon as he felt wind of what was going on…oh yes, that one was rich.

The buck didn’t speak to me much. I silently agreed with that, thought that over time our relations would fix themselves. They didn’t. He found another girl, as white as him, with messy and spiky hair that looked like mine. She was a DJ or something, and she looked like she was ready to spread her flank for anypony that got booze fast enough through her muzzle.

Yes, I was devastated. Yes, I felt alone. I had nopony to turn to. Nopony I could trust my feelings with at least. Sure, I had my professional acquaintances, but they didn’t care for the real me. They liked me because I was good and dedicated. I was a number on their ego measuring scale.

“Brushie brushie, two times a day, clean your teeth, scare the dentist away!”

Holy Celestia, what would Signal say if he saw me in such a state. Again crying. Again mindlessly brushing my teeth, flossing every nook and cranny between my flawless teeth. No, I wouldn’t give up. I would start over, somewhere else. There were a lot of towns that needed a dentist. There would be work elsewhere, I could still do it!

But what if Pinkie’s sweets got out of Ponyville? What if they spread all over Equestria, putting thousands of renowned practices out of business? Ponies would eat that stupid gum, chew it with their decaying teeth, weaken their gums with each chomp. That would be the downfall of everything I believed in. I didn’t want to see smiles with holes in them, rotting, foul smelling…

I had to do something. Stop it before it was too late.


* * *


The cool night air carried the voices of laugher and music across the street, awakening me from my thoughts. I was walking for so long my feet hurt. The sounds were coming from Sugarcube Corner, of course. There was a party there every other day. And Pinkie Pie was the host.

The pink monster. The one who ruined me. And she had the nerve to smile about it. With her flawless white teeth! How did she even do that?! Always, every single visit, the mare rattled about the amount of candy she consumed, enough to put an elephant into a diabetes induced coma. How the hay did she maintain such spotless, perfect teeth rivaling her own!?

She must have a secret. Oh yes, there must be something. The gum, it’s all just a cover up. Pinkie Pie developed something much more potent, perhaps a treatment to regrow teeth. Yeah, that seems possible. The mare would eat up all the candy, loose her teeth and then regrow them, making them look like those of a small filly. Yes. I’ll learn how she does that. I’ll share that which she so selfishly guards. I’ll give it to the world, to every dentist in Equestria, and everypony will rejoice! Brushing will no longer be a chore, it will be pure pleasure! Dentists shall not be feared, they will be kind friends to their patients! No more drilling, no more suction, no more tears or screams!

Yes, Pinkie Pie will tell me how she does it. I’ll pluck the secret from her mouth. Maybe even a few secrets. With the biggest tongs I can find…