Thu, 19 May 2005

positive dental attitude
For years now, I have been afraid of my teeth. Overlooking general dentistial mouth accidents, of which I have had more than my share, I have taken issue with the lack of mutability of my teeth. Barring braces or stains, neither of which are my bag, teeth are essentially the same from the time you get your adult ones grown in. Your skin may change, your soul may change, but your teeth drag your past behind you like a veil. Or so I thought, until I saw the vermin-eater a few hours ago, still out counting snowflakes, of which we now have a stateful. For the longest time I didn’t get along with the vermin-eater, due to my inability to let past offenses flow from me, particularly those so trivial I don’t want to admit to them. In this case, I held a long-standing distain for her after she told me her favorite country band was the Eagles. Earlier this afternoon I finally got over that block, as the vermin-eater taught me how the human can exchange teeth with the canine. I now have 42 teeth instead of my prior 28 (completely free of wisdom teeth, me) and have delighted myself by smiling at children in the office, who now call me the dog-witch as they run away screaming. I wish I had the accompanying jaw and musculature, as it’d be wicked to be able to chew through cable and rope, but the vermin-eater told me that was a bit beyond her abilities. I’m pretty neighborly, so as payback, I showed her the two identical snowflakes I found on my car windshield yesterday night, which she examined carefully, then licked into water while walking back into her trailer, closing all nine of her locks as poor Muhilden whimpered from beneath the porch, sucking on his new sugar-rotted molars.
(12:13.05.19.2005) [/ana] #