Crack Toof

Utensils are ugly devices. I've never really liked using utensils for food, mainly because people would criticize me for using this wrong or that wrong or they'd be all like, "Stop stabbing your food!" or some such bullshit. Also I grew up eating mostly finger food. Tortillas, rice, beans, platanos fritos, and so on. Eating with utensils? Ain't nobody got time fo dat!

But anyway, it's clearly something I haven't been able to completely avoid as I've gotten older, but for the most part, when I think I can get away with it and I'm around people who don't care about these things, I don't usually use them.

So the other night when I was eating the lovely salad my fiance made for me, I inadvertently started eating with the fork. Probably because of all the dressing I smothered on it. I didn't want to have to keep licking my fingers to press fast forward every time a commercial came on. So I'm eating the shit out of this salad when CHOMP!

...I bit...the fucking...fork.

The pain shot through the nerves of my lower jaw and my head suddenly felt like it was locked in one place. I was too busy registering the pain to move any part of my body. I released my mouth from the fork, but it was the most I could do because everything from the neck up felt like stone.

Fiance looked over at me and asked what was wrong. I was too scared to answer because that meant moving my jaw and using interdentals and labio-dentals (if you've done phonetics, you know what I'm talking about). 

What if I started saying something and my tongue ended up pushing out a tooth right in the middle of a sentence?

I could hear the concern in his voice because I wasn't answering, wasn't moving. To stop him from freaking out, I started making ridiculous noises, like an infant crying. Not that I was crying or anything. That's just bullshit. But even if I was, it would be understandable, so whatever. Fuck off.

I pull the fork out of my mouth, drop it on the plate and walk to the bathroom, remembering that I still have deliciously unchewed salad with feta cheese in my mouth. I inspect my mouth in the mirror, sluggishly chewing the food in my mouth with my back teeth and swallowing with disdain. I didn't see anything wrong. Eveything looked fine, but 2 of my front teeth felt weird. Like they were foreign objects suddenly jammed into my gums.

"Are they going to die?!" I asked fiance in a panic.

"They're not going to die. And even if they do, my mom had a dead tooth and she's fine."

I suddenly pictured myself with 2 beautiful black teeth in my wedding photos and realized that I would not be fine. There was no way I would be okay with some dead fuckin' teef all up in my grill.

Anyway, long story short, only one of the teeth still hurts and yes, there is a very visible crack in it. It hurts the way a sensitive tooth would hurt if you put a never melting ice cube against it and kept it there. I can't bite down completely because the pain shoots right into my gum and makes it feel like it's just going to bend forward from the socket and run away. 

Certain words are a little irritating to say since it involves pressing my tongue against my tooth and that hurts, so words with "th" are subsituted with "f". Chewing my big-ass African lower lip hurts, but that's probably a good thing since I can't continue that ugly habit of biting my lip anymore.

The next step is going to the dentist and figuring out what to do with this tooth. A part of me is hoping that it will be replaced with a golden tooth, then I could change my name to Cap'n Crunch or Cracka Pimp or some stereotypical name associated with having a gold tooth. Then I'll make my own circus involving cats and kittens doing cirque du soleil tricks which will lead to a private showing for Stephen Hawking, thus allowing me to play in his extra wheely computer voice chair (why wouldn't he have an extra?) which would give me mind powers. With these mind powers, I would create a black hole that leads to an alternate universe where Mormons like Romney and that chick who wrote Twilight do not exist. Then I would tell people about it and with my brain scanning powers, know who is Mormon/a Romney fan/Twilight fan and refuse them entry. Then they'd be all like, "You're racist!" And then they'd call me Mewsolini because cats, but I'd be like, "Bitch, please! You got your own universe. Why you complain?" And that universe would be named Utah.

...But first...the Dentist...