Cyberpunk Club

Charlie bared her teeth in the mirror. Nightmarish canines and pointed incisors grinned back, acrylic-white and edged with gently-pulsing blue LEDs.

They come right off! Jake had said. It looks really cool! Jake had said. It’ll help with your sensitivity thing!

Nobody remembered the Chomps came preinstalled with dental glue until after she had put them on.

This was what she got for hanging out with the Cyberpunk Club. Aunt Grace always did say anyone who grafted metal onto themselves for fun ought to be avoided. Lesson learned.

“At least Jake said he’d pay to get them taken off, right?” said Piper from where he was perched on her desktop monitor. When Charlie shot him a really? kind of glare, he spread his wings in a parroty sort of shrug, and started preening, his LifeLite branding momentarily visible through his feathers. “I’m trying to look on the bright side for you. And hey,” he added as he drew a feather through his beak, “they look cool.”

“It’th not th’kinda cool ’m goink fhur,” Charlie said, watching her mouth in the mirror.