Wednesday, March 4, 2009

A Fairly Tooth Ending

For 42 somewhat years, he used to boast about never taking care of them. He used to smoke, drink coffee and never brush away any of these nasty habits. He used to pop beer bottle caps with his lateral incisors and rip apart a good hard sandwich made with ciabetta bread to prove he could bite his own as the head of the table. He ignored pleas from the missus to go for routine check-ups insisting that if something wasn't broke, it shouldn't be fixed. Then, one day, as he bit into a tiny almond crisp biscuit of all things, one of his molars came loose and although he thought he could wash away the pain like a real man by rinsing his mouth out with a swig of whiskey, swig after swig and a 750 mL bottle of it later, he was stupidly drunk enough to pull out his tooth and collapse on the kitchen floor. The missus decided to leave him there with a bloody mouth and the droolies all night as punishment for not listening to her after all these years of urging him to visit a dentist. She was his wife, not the tooth fairy, and in the morning she'd take his wallet and keys to the car and let him suffer a little bit more.

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