Friday, July 3, 2009

A Hole-y Mouth

Currently in the mental preparation stage as the merciless removal of my intrusive wisdom teeth looms on the horizon like a twisted, cloaked harbinger of copper flavored blood, writhing in some primal dance on the apex of my masticatory apparatus.

"They are growing in at a troubling angle", casually remarked the dentist, noting the elegant 35ยบ slope at which my molars are protruding through my gums like indifferent volcanoes, forcing their way through the ocean floor because that's what they're programmed to do.

Alas, the rear lower corners of my chewing machine feel to be the victim of an impromptu elephant stampede; the pain having no reservations about forging beyond my mouth and all the way into my neck like a depraved Lewis & Clark clawing their way through my unsuspecting nerve endings.

Resistance, at this point, seems insane.

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