Thrace, Greece
Historical Greek figure Aesop has been known to his fans for his prolific output of animal fan fiction. In light of recent public disbelief of absolutely everything, Aesop’s existence fell under scrutiny from the Keebler Elf Foundation who found mythical beliefs to be counterproductive. This led Professor of Archeological Dentistry at the University of Coliseum, Boulders, Dr. Maximus Dell’Abate on the journey to find undeniable proof of Aesop’s existence. Under the false impression that Aesop had originally written “A mandible is known by the company it keeps” for the Empire’s dental Crest, researchers began to believe that Aesop was not a fable. After lawyers inspected one of scribe Homer’s epics releasing all medical documents to Hippocrates, scientists were given unparalleled access to Aesop’s 620 BCE dental records.
Thumbing through the papyrus via Ipad interface revealed Aesop to be a dedicated brusher and flosser according to servant’s time cards, notorious for never biting off more than he could chew. He also died cavity-free, as there were hieroglyphic smiley faces next to each of his hygienist’s visit notes. These three seemingly meaningless details of his fanged fastidiousness narrowed down the computer database search to one out of two perfectly preserved Greek jaws. By process of elimination, one of the specimens was then ruled out after determining it was actually a screenplay about Poseidon.
At precisely 2:30, thirteen minutes after the search began on May 28, a student stumbled through his college refrigerator to find his maw’s leftovers. Within the cold storage lay an immaculate set of human jaws smiling back at the young researcher. Sounding the alarms that this was not a dental drill, the reserved researched began sprinting like a hare to his professor’s laboratory. After the ice melted off the brisk bridgework and the cherished choppers stopped chattering, the team of gumshoes took to gawking at the ghostwriter’s glistening gum line. An eruption of collegiate handshakes and hugs followed, the group celebrating that they now had the first physical evidence that a historical storyteller actually existed. Dr. Maximus Dell’Abate and his whacky pack of private eyes of the past would receive recognition from the Pearly White House, a bicuspid bestowal given to only the mouthiest of movements, the highest honor; the “Plaque from the Dental Chair.”
