When I tried it on, the coat hanger dug into the back of my skull, so I
used a Kotex sanitary napkin for padding.
The contraption worked perfectly, except that I had to sleep flat on my
back, which I always had trouble doing, especially when it was cold: I
liked to snuggle down into the blankets. Also, the rubber bands still
popped off in the middle of the night. Another drawback was that the
device took a lot of time to put on properly. I'd wait until it was dark so
no one else would see it.
One night I was lying in my bunk wearing my elaborate coat-hanger
braces when the bedroom door opened. I could make out a dim figure in
the darkness. "Who's there?" I called out, but because I had my braces
on, it came out sounding like. "Phoof der?"
"It's your old man," Dad answered. "What's with the mumbling?" He
came over to my bunk, held up his Zippo, and flicked it. A flame shot up.
"What the Sam Hill's that on your head?"
"My brafef," I said.
"Your what?"
I took off the contraption and explained to Dad that, because my front
teeth stuck out so badly, I needed braces, but they cost twelve hundred
dollars, so I had made my own.
"Put them back on," Dad said. He studied my handiwork intently, then
nodded. "Those braces are a goddamn feat of engineering genius," he
said. "You take after your old man."
He took my chin and pulled my mouth open. "And I think they're by God
working."