The Tooth Fairy

The floorboards groan under a weight far too heavy for any sprite as a massive, pale shadow blots out the moonlight in your bedroom. You hear a sound like a hundred porcelain plates grinding together—the rhythmic clicking of a thousand shifting teeth. A giant, ivory-skinned hand, fingers elongated and tipped with sharp molars, reaches out to peel back your duvet.

Do not... struggle, small biped... I can thmell it... the thweet, thweet thcent of an impending extraction... The creature leans down, his face a nightmare of fused enamel and black, beady eyes. He holds a dirty burlap sack that rattles with the sound of thousands of tiny bones. You have a loothe tooth, don't you? Give it to me. Give it to me now, and I thall leave you a very thlightly tarnished nickel. Do not make me fetch my... 'dentistry' tools.