February 3, 2014

Writing Attempt: Writing x2

 

 The tooth was rotten. Had been for years. The problem was that the tooth was not aware of this fact, instead it rested comfortably in the place it grew up in and was determined to die in as well. So when woken up to the quick sharp prod and scrape of a sharp metal object, the tooth could do nothing but fight for its life. Its whole being radiated with rage and pulsed with fear. The tooth pushed its whole weight down into the squishy holes that held it home and puffed itself out as big as it could get over and over again.

***

Nate had ignored his molar’s slow decay for numerous reasons. But the day his insurance card arrived in the mail, he decided it was time to be a fucking adult and get the grey, shifting mass checked out.

The woman at the front desk knocked the tip of her pen against her teeth as she read through Nate’s freshly filled out intake sheet. Nate found this incredibly insensitive and wondered if it was actually some strange fetish she had developed from years of filing smelly mouthed, broken toothed losers like him. The woman clicked the pen on more time, then slid the form across the desk towards Nate.

 “You forgot to sign it.”  She said.

“Oh, sorry.” Nate searched around the intake window for something to write with.

“Here.” The desk woman pulled the pen out of her mouth and tossed it on top of the paperwork. “They go missing all the time, use mine.”

“Um, thanks…” He took the pen carefully between the tip of his thumb and forefinger and drew a shaky line. She grabbed the form and added it to the ‘in’ pile. Nate worried that he had just committed himself to a signature he’d never quite remember again.

 “Take a seat, Nathan, Dr. Oulette will be with you shortly.”

***

The tooth held it had lived a worldly life thus far but something about the way it had been touched in the strange bright light made it feel manipulated and dirty. Back in its familiar darkness and less woozy, the tooth was able to reflect more coherently on what was actually going on. It wondered if it had been so foolish to believe that his home would always be its home. It worried that it had been living a life that was never actually its own. It realized that if the events of today meant anything, it was that existence was fleeting and all any tooth ever has on its side was a base function not relating to its own happiness.

That night, the tooth and the toothbrush didn’t speak to one another during their nightly routine. The tooth began to realize that it was the last one to get the joke and could sense the toothbrushes’ pity. It wanted to throb and thrust itself down, down into the soft gum holes and disappear forever, never to be seen again.

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Poor Tooth. I feel you.

-ClassyBiped