Gary lived with the reminder every single day.

Sometimes it was obvious. A glance in the mirror that lingered a second too long. A slightly different sensation when he chewed on one side instead of the other. A small, persistent awareness that something about his mouth would never feel exactly the way it used to. Other times, the reminder was subtler — a flash of memory, a twinge of discomfort, or the quiet knowledge that this outcome had been avoidable.

The tooth problem did end, eventually.

But it ended the hard way.

By the time Gary finally admitted he’d pushed things too far, the situation required immediate professional intervention. There were no gentle conversations. No optional treatments. Just clear, firm instructions and the understanding that the margin for error was gone. The professionals did what they could, efficiently and without judgement, but some damage had already settled in.

That part didn’t rewind.

Gary didn’t hide it. He could have tried — could have brushed it off, joked about it, pretended it was no big deal. Instead, he told the truth when people asked. Not dramatically. Not apologetically. Just honestly. He’d ignored advice. He’d assumed he could manage it himself. He’d believed consequences would arrive slowly enough for him to dodge them.

They hadn’t.

Oddly, that honesty stripped the story of its entertainment value. Once the humour faded, what remained was caution. Not fear — awareness. Gary stopped bargaining with his own health. He paid attention to warning signs instead of rationalising them away. He listened when someone said, “This matters.”

Life continued, altered but intact.

Gary adapted. He ate more carefully. Drank less without announcing it as a lifestyle change. He noticed discomfort sooner and acted on it instead of negotiating with it. The absence of denial felt strange at first, like walking without a familiar weight, but it worked.

This wasn’t a happy ending.

But it wasn’t tragic either.

Gary survived. He functioned. He learned something real, something that stuck. The reminder stayed with him, not as punishment, but as proof — proof that charm didn’t override reality, that optimism didn’t replace action, and that ignoring problems didn’t make them smaller.

Standing alone one evening, running his tongue carefully along his teeth, Gary nodded to himself.

He’d been lucky.

And this time, he understood exactly what that meant.

THE END (Bad-But-Alive)