Dentures

Paul kicked at the pile of corpses rotting in the midday heat, pushing a bloated old man off a boy whose pale face was covered with patches of soft fuzz. 

"Hey," he called out, "I've got one here." 

John looked up from the mouth of a middle-aged man then walked over to where Paul sat hunched over the dead boy. "Be careful with it," he said, gazing over Paul's shoulder. "You don't wanna crack 'em."

Paul waved off John's advice and gave a swift yank on the large pliers he had shoved into the boy's mouth. "Look at this!" he yipped, holding the large pearly tooth up for John to admire. "That's a thing of beauty."

John snatched the tooth from the pliers and then held it up to his own gap-toothed smile. "How does it look?" he asked Paul.

"Looks like this boy's mouth is going to buy us meat for dinner," Paul laughed, smashing his boot on the boy's chin and shoving the pliers back into the boy's mouth to extract another tooth. 

He made quick work of removing the rest of the teeth while John cleaned each one and then placed it in a small pouch. After they finished they moved on to another pile of bodies and then another, searching for men with teeth worth taking. By the end of the day they had collected a small fortune in teeth. As they made their way from the killing field the two men chatted merrily. 

"What will you do with your cut?" Paul asked John. 

"I'm gonna buy myself as set of new dentures," John said with a rotten grin.