Cavities and gut rot

Life’s been all around kind of crappy as of late. A guy was walking out of my office building as I was returning from a dentist appointment and lunch with Elise. He said: “Hi, how are you today?” Instinctively we always say “Fine, how’re you?” Why do we do that? Why don’t we tell the truth?

“Actually, not so well, since you asked. I made some 9 layer dip on Sunday that’s taken it’s toll on my old gutty wuts. It’s become painful to do common things such as walk and breathe. I just got back from the dentist and my gums are killing me. You see, I’m prone to plaque build-up below my gum line and the hygienist had to work double time on my grill with that Medieval hook thing. On top of that, I have a cavity and have to go back to the dentist on Monday to have it filled. And for the cherry: I don’t have dental insurance. Or medical for that matter. So now I’m having to look forward to riding my motorcycle, all paranoid-like to the dentist on Monday to be subjected to a shrieking drill while afraid of getting into any sort of accident that would make for a hefty out-of-pocket emergency room visit all while having gut rot that could halt a rabid rhinoceros. So if you wouldn’t mind just shoving me into a protective bubble, rip all of my teeth out and toss me a magazine and some toilet paper – that just might get me through the day.”

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