the man with the golden tooth

i think the story of goldentooth has finally come to a close, so it's time to talk about him. goldentooth stands about 6'5", maybe 240 lbs. not fat, just a big human being. he has long greasy hair and a gold front tooth. he's scottish, which has led someone to nickname him "shrek", the scottish ogre. goldentooth studies animal behavior and lives in an abandoned frat house. matt and i speculated that he probably learns most about animal behavior catching bats in the attic of his home. he cleans up occasionally but never stops slouching. he can always be seen standing at the bar talking to some woman or another. the british illini girls affectionately call him "goldie". their affection carries with it an understanding that no one in their right mind would ever succumb to his charms. i met a girl once who claimed that goldentooth tried to undress her in public. he recalled, upon meeting her, what she had been wearing the last time he'd seen her. she had indeed worn the outfit as he claimed, two weeks earlier, but hadn't yet met him. having thoroughly impressed her with his good memory, he suggested that she take off her shawl so he could get a better look at her halter top and be sure to remember it as well. she physically resisted the undressing and actually found herself struggling with the ogre for a moment. he relented though; he's really a harmless creature. persistent though...

he once wrote my friend a poem, having met her only once in a crowd. she stole the poem for me from his room, but he caught her and blocked her in. being quick-witted, she forced him to copy down the poem so she could keep it always. he did so and let her go, and when he saw her present me with the poem triumphantly (stick with me. i swear to god this is all true) he said, "you're a vicious cow, annie." it was, of course, horrible. something about his thoughts being as a flock of birds. something about a bucket of water meaning very little to the morning dew. wouldn't you know, but this ogre plays the bagpipes too. i listened to him play outside his house one time, and another scottish guy said it reminded him of home. surely people don't just stand outside playing bagpipes, i said incredulously. no, he said it's common to see them on street corners, where here we would see saxophones. so, to clarify, i asked, did goldentooth remind him of a homeless person? he replied that he was only just resisting the temptation to throw goldie some change.

the best thing about goldentooth is that he exists, even though he seems too fictional to be real. as hard as you think it is to talk to someone famous or extremely good-looking, try talking to someone you've been giggling about, scheming ways to make him your henchman. i was actually nervous to meet him the first time because we'd been speculating that we could get him to perform tasks for us by offering him a bucket of fish heads.

here's how it will go:

me: "goldentooth, fetch me an axe!"

GT: "yesh, bossh"

he might be able to fight for us, too. the rumor is that he lost his tooth in a fight with several frat boys.

you can only imagine my delight when a friend of mine drunkenly made out with him. you can further imagine my delight on telling her these stories. and dragging her to his party. and the look on her face when she saw him playing the bagpipes.

"goldentooth, our guests are bored. play something lively!"

"but bossh, i'm tired"

"for the love of god, goldentooth, if you talk back to me one more time, there will be no fish heads for a week."

"yesh bossh"