No, I didn't finally give in to the vampire craze and try to emulate some metrosexual vampire in some hugely successful potboiler. It's my own blood. I had the poison tooth extracted. I went in blithely figuring it would just be a simple procedure like that plied by the the barbers of old (this is why there's a RED stripe on their pole...for dentistry...or was it because they bled people...i know they applied leeches too...that's in the one Gide novel...you probably knew that) using their pliers to pluck out the offending dental agent provocateur, but noooo.
It was a complicated procedure in which the oral surgeon was grinding down layer after layer of nerve. The Novocain (or generic procaine, whatever) wasn't cutting it. Or it was, but in intervals. I kept thinking of that scene in Marathon Man. I'm so glad I was so naive about this so I only had to deal with the brief horror of it...well...briefly.
I did make the fuckers keep shooting me up with more Novocain and I have to say the guy didn't stint. He'd drill and then use some tool like a metal shoehorn to dig and gouge and as he drilled he'd hit more live nerve where the painkiller hadn't penetrated so he'd stop and shoot me up again after I had yelled out something close to an obscenity. Bill Murray would have been orgiastiacally screaming out oodles of "Candybars!" if he had taken my place today.
Anyway, the fucker's out. I nearly knocked the doc's tools onto the floor because I made a mad sick dash towards the metal tray to retrieve the extracted tooth as soon as it pinged into that. I hadn't realized he was using my chest as his operating table.
He's a nice guy. He came back into the room afterwards and asked me all seriously, "Are you mad at me?"
It sounded like something guys say after prison sex. That tone.
I laughed and muttered through a big muffling bloody tampon of gauze, "Hell nawl...I'm grateful...Androcles and the Lion...."
Only it sounded like this: "Afdrogkleese ahrnd druh Lyerbun."
I just put another "tampon" in and feel like singing Shania ("Man, do I feel like a woman!")
But the blood is still leaking out, and you know what blood does to tissues it's not supposed to be on...it irritates and inflames them and makes them all swollen and creepy. So my throat feels all swollen from the blood and so is the one side of my tongue. It's a gory fucking mess in there. The hole is fucking huge. It looks like a new sexual orifice. Perhaps it's not true. Perhaps you CAN invent a new sin.
Excuse me. I have to go hold this stupid ice pack to my face for another twenty minutes. Twenty minutes off and on all night til I go to bed.
Yeah. That will happen.
Goodbye, Molar #31. I feel I barely got to know ya.
Maybe I should have asked to take it home with me.
God only knows what they're doing with it now.
They could be selling it into white tooth slavery. Or molesting it.
Now I'm starting to feel like a horrible shepherd to my teeth.
Ah, nevermind. Fucker deserves whatever they do to him.
My jaw still fucking hurts.
And you know what this means, right?
VICODIN COOKIE PARTY TONIGHT!
If you're in the area and look insanely good in orange bikini underwear give me a call.
I don't think your sex, gender or orientation will matter after we are both on the second Vicodin.
Or we could just sit around and draw.
That would probably me more prudent.
Unless you have a vampire fetish. Because I could so turn that on for you tonight.