When I was seven, my older brother and I got two identical shark plushies. He named his Mr. Sharkie and I named mine Mrs. Sharkie.

I immediately cut out Mrs. Sharkie’s front tooth with a pair of scissors. I’m not really sure why I did this. I used to pretend it was because I didn’t know stuffed animals didn’t have ‘baby teeth’ like me, but I was never that stupid. Maybe it was because I wanted her to look different than my brother’s. Maybe it was some primal urge to destroy.

For some weird reason, my dad and I have a continuous, unusual, and infinitely complex narrative involving every single stuffed animal I own. Stripes is a multi-billionaire racoon, Fairy Bunny is a kung-fu fighting white bunny, and Cubby the bear is their teacher during the day.

I’m 18 years old and this narrative is still ongoing. But as I got older the narratives somehow became darker and more adult. Mrs. Sharkie hasn’t accepted that Mr. Sharkie (who my brother got rid of) left her. Mrs. Sharkie is also unaware of why her tooth is missing.

I can’t bring myself to admit it to her. The story became, to me, a manifestation of guilt. Of nostalgia, change, and our pasts, but also playfullness and silliness.

This ceramic series portrays the story of ‘Mrs. Sharkie’, including her missing tooth and the bloody scissors. But there’s something new to the story: a retainer.