25 October 2005

Bucking the trends.

The other morning, whilst trying to deter an undead alarm clock from its evil plans, I inadvertently smashed my bridgework to porcelain shards through the enthusiastic application of a 6lb framing hammer to the bed-side table.

Up until a few months ago, I didn’t have the need for any dental work, but then one fateful Hard Liquor and Handgun night, I engaged a local tooth removal specialist in a spirited discussion of the sexual orientation of NASCAR spectators. This triggered a mysterious meteoric vaporization of his truck, and a trip to the dentist for me.

Now, dental care is surprisingly advanced here in central Pennsyltucky. They even claim that the toothbrush was invented here; a claim that is given some credence by the fact that if it were invented anywhere else, it would have been called the “teethbrush”.

Dr. Grundig (not his real name. That has an umlaut in it, I’ve changed it so I won’t get sued.) was able to make me a new set of chompers in a day or so. I gave him a ring asking for another set.

“You’ll have to come in for a fitting.” He said.

Did he think I’d gained gum weight in the last two months? Apparently so, as he refused to budge.

Again, I sat in his chair as he hummed “All I want for Christmas is your two front teeth” and shoved both hands, a foot and more plumbing than an urology clinic into my mouth.

“So.” He said. “How do you fancy Pittsburgh’s chances against the Ravens next week?”

“Not bad, Robert.” I replied, the eventual answer sounding like “N’gawa, m’tambo” in fluent !Kung. One can peg the glottal stop sound with your mouth full, if you are willing to crack one of your dentist’s knuckles with a bicuspid.

And that probably explains his shriek and my new dayglo orange buck teeth.

UPDATE! Now the link goes to something that's germaine, well kinda.

And that's the way I likes it.