My fiend the tooth

Last thursday night was great, although my post partying activities were not quite as much fun. The next day I vomited so much that I dislodged a filling in my molar. Later that night, as I was fighting off acidic vomit breath with some Wrigley’s fresh, my filling came loose completely and mashed itself in with my chewy making it taste like Wrigley’s had created a new a flavour called ‘dental’. What was left were the bitter remains of a rotten tooth kept alive too long by an artificial substitute. The filling being a kind of iron lung or pacemaker for teeth. Although the tooth was not painful anymore (I will later find out that the nerve was killed off years ago) it did omit an unpleasant odour and my partner gave me an ultimatum; either lose the tooth or lose my right to sexually assault him when ever I pleased.
Let’s just say I’m the kinda gal who wants what she can’t have, so after two whole days of having all my physical advances rejected, I finally agreed. I threw in a few attempts at some lame excuses not to go and a few girly hissy fits but eventually I got up and trudged the 4 minutes down the road to the dentist (yes, one of my excuses was that the walk was too long).

I chose this dentist for more than its convenient proximity, it was run entirely by women so I knew I was in good hands.
I expected a mere consultation and to set a date to allow for a big production about pulling the tooth out. But 1 minute into my appointment and she was jabbing anesthetic into my gum. With a large set of pliers she twisted the tooth until it came free and I didn’t even flinch. She said I was brave but I knew she said that to everyone. As cotton balls were stuffed in my mouth I glimpsed at the tooth lying on the tray next to me. The sight of it lying there lifeless, covered in blood, struck me like a slap in the face and started to wonder if I was a bad person. After years of hatred and rivalry between myself and it, I suddenly felt sorry for the little guy. I had ripped him from his home, his family. I had ended his life.
All he had ever done was help me consume plate after plate, box after box of sugar filled goods and I repaid him with poor treatment and a shameful end. Oh sure for 5 long years he tortured me, painful nights awake but oh they were OUR nights. And now they were gone. I suddenly felt weak as if my body was in shock. It was all happening too fast. My gums were throbbing so hard I wondered if they too were crying out for their beloved tooth.
I lay on the cold reception floor trying not to think about the fact that a part of my body was just torn out. Oh dear tooth, If only I had more time with you. One last meal we could share. I reminisced about our time together for a while and when I felt well enough I picked myself up off the floor and sauntered home all the while wishing I had asked to keep the tooth. I’m not sure how that would have helped but I wanted it all the same.

I spent the next few days in a kind of soft mourning state. Tonguing the fleshy hole in reflection. Cursing you for leaving me every time a piece of food fell into your soggy grave. I couldn’t forgive myself for my part in your untimely death, so I made a promise to myself on your behalf that the rest would not suffer that same fate and I kept that promise for a few hours.
And so I say good bye old friend. We will always be together in the dentist in my mind.


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