Belmar spit out the tooth, watching it bounce off his sneaker and skitter across the concrete., making a ting against a flattened can of 7-Up. After that it stopped moving. Belmar looked at the bloody root system, one of his smaller molars, same type he lost last time. He extended his hand and flicked it with his index finger and watched it roll a little bit more onto an over turned paper plate with a boot print on it: Jenkins' boot. He noticed the fresh brown smear at the edge of the plate and realized Jenkins had stepped in the dog shit.
Belmar wasn't going to mention it. Jenkins had a nice plush yellow carpet back at his office.
Jenkins and his mechanic had just finished beating Belmar out by the dumpster behind the 7-11, the place they usually beat people. Belmar owed Jenkins 800 on the Vikings fiasco. Vikings lost on the offside call, leading to the Jets field goal. Unexpected. Belmar had the money but didn't want to pay him. He preferred to lose the tooth. Last time Belmar had been to the dentist was in 1993, the last time when he had a full time job.
"Where am I?" Belmar moaned, trying to make it look good..
He peeked at his watch and was really looking forward to his morning cup of coffee. He’d already decided he was going to douse it with a little whole milk this time, not the skim, and tear open two packets of brown sugar instead of his usual one. And go with the dark roast. Whole hog.