I don’t like going to see the dentist. That is not unusual. Not really all that different from many people I know, but then again it is my mouth and not theirs. And now I am stuck with an unexpected visit.
Last year I had the ignominious pleasure of breaking a tooth. Doc says that it could have been for any number of reasons. Truth is that I don’t really care all that much why. It happened. One moment I was chewing and then the next there was a strange object in my mouth. I spit it out and voila, a piece of porcelain had decided to go AWOL.
The good doctor fixed me up with a nice crown. Such a nice euphemism, crown that is. Problem is that crowns cost a small fortune but you can’t really sell them to anyone. If you are running short on cash you can’t hock them. If Guido the killer pimp decides to collect the cash he is losing because you ran off with his best girl you are still stuck. Oy, Risky Business reference just made me realize that I am getting older.
Anyhoo, the point is that this morning the crown I received last year jumped ship. So now I get to go visit the good doctor yet another time and ask to have this thing recemented. I am overjoyed at the prospect of this. That thumping you feel is the shock wave emanating from the joyous African Ant eater dance I am doing now. Fifty points to whomever identifies that pop culture reference.
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