Half a lifetime ago, a very good dentist in Chicago decided to make my dental disasters a project. As a result, I have dental repairs that are much more enduring than the teeth they rest on.
One of his magic repairs was a bridge over the River Kwai. He melted down a ring from a disaster of another sort, and tied two teeth together, at the same time hanging a phony denture over the intervening gorge. Twice in the intervening years, a piece of taffy or caramel has suctioned his handiwork up from its foundations, and that bridge has meandered through my digestive tract. Today it came off, again--more under control--and I am glad to see it go. It will be replaced, with two extra lanes and a cantilevered arch, at an indecent price.
The gold will be sold, probably to cement another marriage together, permanently, until a dentist do them part.
Meanwhile, I am wearing temporary caps, which my numb mouth suggests are somewhat like mile markers along the highway. I can chew hubcaps, or bacon-like strips of tire treads.
The dental engineers have scheduled two more visits. The first will be to see "how well the metal framework fits". I do not know what that means, but it sounds like scaffolding and reinforcing rods. The last visit will be to insure that the weight of my billfold does not throw the whole project out of balance.
I have my own agenda: I would like a leash for the new bridge. Chasing it through the entire alimentary tract and trapping it on exit, is too low-tech. I want a way to bring it back the way it ran off, before it gets too far. Maybe something nylon.
One of his magic repairs was a bridge over the River Kwai. He melted down a ring from a disaster of another sort, and tied two teeth together, at the same time hanging a phony denture over the intervening gorge. Twice in the intervening years, a piece of taffy or caramel has suctioned his handiwork up from its foundations, and that bridge has meandered through my digestive tract. Today it came off, again--more under control--and I am glad to see it go. It will be replaced, with two extra lanes and a cantilevered arch, at an indecent price.
The gold will be sold, probably to cement another marriage together, permanently, until a dentist do them part.
Meanwhile, I am wearing temporary caps, which my numb mouth suggests are somewhat like mile markers along the highway. I can chew hubcaps, or bacon-like strips of tire treads.
The dental engineers have scheduled two more visits. The first will be to see "how well the metal framework fits". I do not know what that means, but it sounds like scaffolding and reinforcing rods. The last visit will be to insure that the weight of my billfold does not throw the whole project out of balance.
I have my own agenda: I would like a leash for the new bridge. Chasing it through the entire alimentary tract and trapping it on exit, is too low-tech. I want a way to bring it back the way it ran off, before it gets too far. Maybe something nylon.
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