Should have been a surgeon

So it's the day of the big annual company gala at the Atlanta Aquarium and as usual, I'm passing the boredom of Atlanta traffic by eating in my car, my preferred dining area for breakfast as I can watch the sun rise and on some bad traffic days also set while I eat. So, this day, I am eating an apple because I am out of bananas, one of the three items generally in my power breakfast trifecta of banana, yogurt and an English muffin which I spray with some "butter", not having the 15 seconds required to spread some of the good old fashioned yellow stuff. I'm pretty sure they have dubbed the spray "I Can't Believe it's not Butter" which is definite proof they need to fire their marketing department. It sprays on and is apparently made with some chemical that has zero calories and they find themselves confused? Of course, my real incentive to use the stuff is to avoid the magnetic pull exerted by the old fashioned butter which forces the toasted dough from my hand and sends it quickly downward while it exhibits some Nadia Comaneci inspired twist until it finally sticks the landing, butter side down.

So I'm eating an apple which has an odd crunch. Since it isn't Halloween, I'm know it isn't a razor blade so I swallow it, figuring it is better not to see whatever vile creature I have just bit the head off. After all, I got three pounds for a buck, had to be a reason. The next bite just doesn't go so well and I start to get a very bad feeling that I just got my calcium intake for the week. I get to a red light and check and sure enough, I swallowed half of my front right tooth.

I go to the big event but make sure that I only talk to people on my left while imitating the Mona Lisa. As the night goes on, I start doing a very mean impression of Elvis'lip on a bad drug day and get through the thing. I'm sure I wowed those that I didn't scare.

Next day, I go to the emergency repair center, better known to me and my family as the dentist's office. My dentist gets to work. He jacks me with some Novocain which has the habit of leaving me drooling for a couple of hours which is always so attractive. He packs some stuff in my mouth that has the effect of gluing my lips to my gums, making conversation a bit of a challenge. He glues and drills and shines and buffs and uses some glue that makes me a bit happy in the head.

And then he looks at his assistant and declares, "Should have just been an oral surgeon. At least I'm good at pulling teeth" and goes back to shining and buffing.

It really is a nice front tooth.