Endodontics
Do you ever have nightmares where your teeth fall out? In my dreams, all that’s left of the two neat, straight rows is the roots.
The tongue flops about the cavernous maw, searching as swollen gums split down the center. I have never had a cavity. When I had
my wisdom teeth out, I was awake the whole time and they didn’t give me enough novocaine. Raise your hand if you it hurts. My dentist
informs me that I have the smallest mouth of all his patients. Boy, is it tight in there. My eyes crossed from the pain. But the dens
sapientiae were coy. Dr. Roy Winthrop, D.D.S., had to pull out all the stops. It took a team of three crack-shot endodontic specialists
to dig my impacted third molars from the dental pulp of the maxillofacial region. I sure hope St. Apollonia is watching over us, heh-heh.
Dr Roy Winthrop, D.D.S., is a bastard. The roots stretched all the way to my belly and I heard them wailing with grief when they were ripped
out; felt them clawing my organs, poking holes in my throat. Afterwards, they gave me morphine for the post-partum depression.
|
Students:
Back to Crafts of Writing: Poetry Section 1
|
