I think I was nine when I first found my granddad's teeth. Me and my brother couldn't stop

laughing. They came with that little key that you could wind up and walked around on

little feet, chattering together in silent laughter, the rows of teeth clacked against each

other as they paraded around in a little circle. I suppose we'd seen them before, in comics

or TV or something, but somehow having them right in front of us was much funnier. Johnny

said them on the dresser, and they pushed aside some little thimbles that had belonged

to our grandmother before she passed away. One thimble fell off, clattering to the floor,

and we both erupted with whoops of laughter. But, it didn't last long.

What the hell are you? I granddad began as he stormed into the room. I knew he would

be mad. I'd been on the wrong side of my granddad's temper before, and whenever grandma

was involved, God rest the soul, his anger became tenfold. He gave me a clip around the

ear and pulled Johnny onto his feet. These aren't yours, he snarled, snatching up the teeth,

and reaching for the thimble. As he bent over though, he must have heard his back. He

shot her to hand and winced in pain. Johnny's eyes met mine. You know when something is funny

because it shouldn't be? Well, to me and Johnny, right then and there, it was hilarious.

We both giggled into our hands, and our heads bumped together by our granddad. He could

be a mean old bugger when he wanted to be. The teeth got locked away, and picked up the

thimble frame, which was promptly placed back in his precise position.

For a comedian, granddad sure is miserable, I said to my dad when we were safely in the

car out of the air-shot. My head still hurts from where he'd slapped me. Johnny was

pouting too. None of it seemed as funny now. Well, he's not a comedian anymore, hasn't

been for a long time. My dad said, as we pulled away from granddad's drive. He adjusted

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