TI Babies VIII

by Frank D'Antuono


Everyone: TI Babies, we'll make our dreams come true...


TI Babies we'll do the same for you...


Spyder: I just defected

O'Reilly: I do the math

Erich: I blow up ships


Xavier: I got a neat sword

Hex: I go everywhere

Treschi: I screw people over

Daimen: And I guard with care

King: I rule the galaxy

NPCs: beep-beep-beep-BEEP!

Marcus: Get your orders in by Thursday dammit!!!

Everyone: Yes Nanny.

Everyone: Were TI, TI, TI ,TI, Bay-Bay-Bay! Doo-wah-ooooo!

This Week's Episode: The Dentist

Nanny Marcus pulled into the strip mall with the kids in the back seat of the station wagon.  Cigar in hand, he ordered the kids to exit the vehicle.

"Nanny, when did you start smoking?" asked baby Spyder.

"Oh Spyder, I always like a good smoke before we go get ice cream."

"ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM!!!" baby Alistar bellowed.

Baby Daimen processed the situation.  Continuity error, Nanny Marcus has not smoked any form of tobacco products the previous three times ice cream has occurred.  Probability analysis: Ice cream will not occur.  Conclusion: Nanny Marcus is a possible threat.  Forming this conclusion, he immediately kept it to himself.

"Hey, Nanny," baby O'Reilly spoke up, "this isn't Baskin Robin's."

"This ice cream parlor just opened up, I thought we'd give it a try," Marcus replied.

"Hey, where is all the ice cream? This don't look like no ice cream shop to me!" baby Hex pouted.

"Well, I guess it's inside the door there," Marcus said, pointing to the door.

Marcus opened the door for the children.  They rushed in, pushing and pulling at each other to be the first one to get ice cream.  Then they heard the door slam behind them and turned around to see Nanny Marcus blocking the exit.  They looked around, bewildered.

"Nanny, this ain't no ice cream parlor," baby Xavier said, confused.

"Yeah, that's right.  Remember a few weeks ago, kids, when I said we were all going to the dentist's office?" Marcus announced as fear gripped the children.

"But Nanny, you said ve vere going to have zhe ice cream?" baby Erich questioned.

"Oh, well... you see, the thing about that is..."  A predatory smile played on his face.  "I lied... ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"


The kids all sat impatiently in their chairs, like inmates on death row.  Nanny Marcus sat smoking a cigar while reading an issue of Highlights magazine.  He looked up from his reading to notice the man across from him leering at his green and white striped knee-highs.

"Hey, buddy!  You got a problem?!"

The man quickly went back to his own business.

"Nanny?  How come Treschi didn't have to come to the dentist's with us?" O'Reilly asked.

"Because Treschi has his doctor's appointment on Tuesdays, and this was the only time I could get an appointment for all of you kids."




"Treschi?" his psychologist asked.  "Have you been having those dreams about your mother again?"

"Yes," baby Treschi answered, his voice filled with shame.

"Do you still do those things with the knife in the dreams?"

"Yes," he said, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"And afterwards, have you still been touching yourself?"

"Yes..." he said, sobbing quietly.

"Oh, my poor little Treschi... let's change the subject."

"Thank you," he sniffed, wiping away the tears in his eyes.

"When was the last time you did something cruel?"

Treschi pondered that for a moment.  "Define 'cruel'..."

"Well, when was the last time you inflicted pain on, say... an animal?"

He thought for a moment.  "What time is it?"

Dr. Johnson buried his face in is hands.  "Oh Treschi, I feel like I'm just not getting through to you.  How are the anger management sessions going?"

"You mean the part-time job you got for me?  Well, very well.  I feel like I'm really doing positive things with my anger there."

"Excellent, well... that's some progress, eh?"

"Why do I keep doing bad things, Doctor?  I don't mean to... I just can't help myself."

"Do you enjoy doing them, Treschi?"

"Yes," he answered resolutely.

"Well, I'll be honest.  I feel you have an acute sociopathic disorder, coupled with a basic Oedipus Complex, numerous anxiety disorders, and more than a little megalomania thrown in.  We're talking about a major Messianic Complex here."

"What does all that mean?"

"You want to marry and kill your mother, paranoia controls you, and you are oblivious to the suffering of those around you whom you wish to control with an iron fist and make suffer."

"Oh... yeah, so what?"

He buried his face in his hands again.  "Listen Treschi, I have an idea.  Maybe a mantra would help you."

"What's a 'mantra'?"

"It's a phrase you say to yourself to help get into a certain state of mind.  For now on, whenever you feel like doing something naughty, I want you to sing: 'I like me, I like me, I'm as good as I can be!' over and over again until those mischievous feelings subside."

"Okay, I'll try it doc, thanks!" he said, leaping off the couch.

" 'Doc'?  What have I been telling you?"

"Oh, I forgot.  Thanks, Abdul, this was a really good session!"


Little Hex was strapped down to the dental chair, a very bright overhead light shining right in his face.  The dentist approached him.

"So, kiddo... how often do you brush your teeth?"

"Muh nams not iddo... is X!!!" he said with a mouth full of cotton.

The dentist removed the cotton from his mouth, then produced a small Dixie cup full of water.  "Thirsty?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you.  You know, you look familiar..." Hex said, trying to move his strapped down arm to grab the cup of water.

"Well, maybe you can have some water after you answer a few questions.  Now, how often do you brush your teeth?"

Hex thought about it for a minute.  "I'd say... at least twice a day."

The dentist got right into his face.  "Liar!!!  Do not turn this into a house of lies!" he screamed.  "Now I'll ask you again: How many times a day... do you brush your teeth?"

"Uh... at least once a day, I promise!"

"Liar!!!" he screamed again.  He started up his drill and slowly brought it down towards Hex's mouth.  "Oh, it looks as if the decay has spread from the mouth to your brain.  It's always so sad when that happens."

Fear pulsed through every part of Hex's body.  "No, please... alright, ALRIGHT!!!"  He started crying.  "I only brush once or twice a week (sob, sob), okay? (sniffle) I know I should brush more (sob) but I don't!"hHe ejaculated as his body quivered in the throws of crying.

"Oh, it's okay, buddy.  Don't you feel better now that you've told the truth?  There, there now... have some water."

Hex drank the water and managed to bring his crying down to a quiet sobbing.  "Am I going to hell, doctor?"

"Oh no, my dear boy," he said, filling Hex's mouth with cotton again as he started up his drill.  "It's just going to feel like it!"


Xavier stood atop the dental chair, welding Kuar in a threatening manner.  "Get back, you crazy old freak!"

The dentist and his nurse circled around Xavier.  "I don't know why you're afraid of a little shot?  It will only hurt for a second."

"No way, man!  I've heard that rap before, and I ain't ever falling for that again!  Now BACK OFF!!!  Do you hear me?  NEVER AGAIN!!!"

The dentist threw down his arms and sighed.  "Oh well, never mind then.  If you don't want healthy teeth, then you won't have healthy teeth."

"That's right pal, try that weak reverse psychology on me!  You ain't touching me, ya hear!" he yelled, slicing a nearby instrument tray in half.

The dentist turned to walk away.  "Of course, now you won't get a lollypop."

"What?" Xavier asked, intrigued.

The dentist turned around.  "That's right, only good little boys and girls who behave themselves and don't destroy valuable dental equipment get a lollypop after their check up."

Xavier suddenly calmed down.  "Oh please, can't I get a lollypop?"

"Nope, you said you don't want a check up, so you won't get a check up."

Xavier powered down Kuar and sat in the dental chair.  "Please give me a check up!  I'll be good, I want one now!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, please!"

"No more screaming or waving that thing around?"

Xavier strapped himself into the chair.  "I promise."

The dentist smiled.  "Okay then, you'll get your check up."

"Alright!  Bring it on!"

The dentist started up his drill.  You stupid, stupid, boy!  Your soul better belong to Jesus, son, cause your mouth belongs to me! he thought menacingly.


The dentist gazed upon the perfect white porcelain teeth of Daimen Richter.  "Magnificent!" the doctor spoke aloud, to which Daimen nodded.

He turned to his assistant.  "Nurse, get my sketch pad!"  He turned back to Daimen.  "Your mouth, young man, is going up on my refrigerator door."

As the doctor illustrated Daimen's perfect cybernetically-enhanced teeth, Daimen scanned the diploma hanging on the wall.

Searching database for The Columbus School of Husbandry Sciences.  No listings match the list of ADA accredited dental colleges with that name.  Scanning...  The Columbus School of Husbandry Sciences is listed as an unaccredited veterinary college.  Conclusions: The dentist is an unlicensed veterinarian.  The dentist is a possible threat.


"So, I hear you like gadgets?" the dentist asked O'Reilly.

"Uh... yeah, I do."

"But not as much as sweets, am I right?!" he said shaking O'Reilly's belly.

"Um... I guess so?"

"Well, then do I have a gadget for you!"  He went into the back room and came back holding something that looked like a large metal erector set.  "You're going to become very well acquainted with this."

O'Reilly looked at the large metal sculpture in front of him.  It looked like a cross between a football helmet and the transmission for a 1987 Buick Skylark.  "What the hell is that?"

The dentist smiled.  "This is your new retainer.  Isn't it a neat looking gadget?  And the fun part is: you'll be wearing it for a very, very long time!"

O'Reilly's eyes widened.  "But... you said my teeth were strait!"

The dentist chuckled.  "Ha, ha, ha... they won't be when I get through with them," he said as he started up the drill.


Alistar sat in the dentist's chair, playing with the body straps.

"Hmm, I don't know why your parents brought you here.  You only have a few baby teeth, and they look fine.  Oh well, I might as well get a gum sample from you while you're here.  Nurse, bring me some topical anesthetic, please."

The nurse looked shocked.  "Doctor?"

The dentist smiled.  "There's no point in inflicting pain on them at this age."  He tickled Alistar under his chin.  "They're not old enough for it to be any fun."

The nurse left the room and returned with the tub of the anesthetic the dentist had requested.

Alistar looked at the approaching nurse and the tub she was carrying. "ICE CREAM!!!" he cried as he dove into the open tub.


The dentist entered the waiting room.  "Mr. Johnston?"

"Yes?" Nanny Marcus responded.

The dentist produced the slack jawed, drooling form of baby Alistar.  "He's finished.  But I'd keep an eye on him, though... he ate a lot of novocaine."

Marcus took Alistar into his arms.  "Al, you okay little buddy?"


"He'll be fine by tomorrow," the dentist informed him.  "Just be careful he doesn't drown in his sleep tonight."


Spyder sat in the dental chair, a beaming smile plastered on his face.

"Well Spyder, your teeth are in very good shape," the dentist reported.

"Thank you, doctor."

"Spyder, tell me: how often do you brush?"

The smile on his face got even wider.  "After each and every single meal."

"Really?  How about after snacks?"


"Wow, even after snacks, huh?  Well, then... do you use mouthwash too?"

"Yep!  Each and every single day!"

The dentist's smile then became sinister.  "And Spyder, do you... floss, as well?"

The smile quickly vanished from Spyder's face.  "Floss?"

"Oh, Spyder, Spyder, Spyder... are you telling me that you don't floss?"

He looked ashamed.  "I guess so..."

"Spyder... do you know what will happen to you if you don't floss?"

He suddenly got scared.  "What?!"

The dentist reached for a large book on his shelf.  "Spyder, the best way for me to answer that question is for us to look through The Big Book of British Smiles."


Erich looked around at the pain and disfigurement all around him in the waiting room.  O'Reilly had been hooked up to some kind of prosthetic mouthpiece that made him look like a cyborg.  Alistar was drooling on the floor and smearing everything with this tongue in an effort to taste something, anything.  Xavier was sitting in a chair in the fetal position, shivering.  Daimen kept examining his teeth with a hand mirror, a disturbed look on the cyborg's usually trenchant face.  Hex kept cradling his mouth and moaning in pain.  But by far, the worst was Spyder.  He kept rocking back and forth in his chair muttering, "Still unclean, still unclean" over and over again.

The dentist walked into the waiting room.  "And who is our last patient for today?"

Erich stared at him, his cold little eyes filled with hatred.  I am next, danm you... and I will make you pay for what you've done to my friends!

"Okay Erich, it's your turn, and then we can all go home," said Nanny Marcus, putting out his cigar.

Erich leaped out of his chair and stood up at full attention.  "At your leisure, Herr Doctor," he said as he marched into the dentist's office with all the dignity of a conquering hero.  The rest of the gang would have cheered if they'd had the verbal capacity.


Erich sat in the dental chair.  "Alright, you fiend, do your vorst!"

The dentist took one look inside Erich's tiny mouth and laughed.  "Oh Erich, thank you!"

He looked baffled.  "Excuse me?"

"With just one look, I can tell that you have possibly the most unhealthy mouth medical science has ever witnessed!"


"Oh, you are going to need so much work done!  Thank you, Erich.  Between your mouth and the medical insurance your guardian has you covered on... I can retire and pursue my true passion of genetic cloning!"

"Hold on just a minute!"

"We'll get started right away.  I'm going to need my new assistant's help on this one.  Oh Treschi?"

Into the dentist's office walked little Andrea Treschi in a white dental coat.  "Hi Erich."

"Treschi?!  But... but how?"

"It's an integral part of my ongoing therapy with Dr. Johnson.  I'm sick, Erich, and from what Dr. Atkins tells me... so are you."

"No, Treschi, please!  Whatever you're thinking of doing, please don't do it!"

"Don't worry, Erich, Dr. Atkins is a trained medical professional."

"Treschi," Dr. Atkins chimed in, "would you please administer the N2O to the patient?"

Treschi strapped the mask onto Erich's face and started the flow of gas.  Groggily, Erich made one last plea.

"Please... Treschi... stop..."

"Quit worrying yourself sick, Erich.  I promise nothing bad will happen to you," he said, picking up a pair of brutal-looking dental implements.  "Maybe a little music will relax you?  Why don't you sing this new song with me... I just learned it today," he said, the smile on his face turning vicious as he brought the dental tools to bear on Erich.  "I like me, I like me, I'm as good as I can be..."


Next Week's Episode: Capture the Flag


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