Invincible Teeth
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The sweet taste of blood filled my mouth. My gums swelled and gave forth their juices in a slow stream of red. I didn’t flinch. It crossed my mind to do so, but I convinced myself that any indication of pain on my part would make me less of a man. She continued to hack away at my teeth, this dental assassin, as if she had not met her pain quota for the day and time was running out.
“Brandon, your teeth must be quite gross.” Quite the opposite, my friend. I have never had the first inkling of dental trouble. No cavities. Ever. No root canals. Nothing. Just good, healthy teeth and gums.
Healthy gums or no, the amount of blood was ungodly. I thought about the line in Fight Club where Jack says, “You can swallow of pint of blood before you get sick”; I felt that I was dangerously close to crossing that threshold and spilling my fried rice lunch all over the Dentist chair.
The good doctor says to me, “Do your gums normally bleed this much?” I say, “They always do when you poke them with sharp metal. Advise your assistant of this fact.” She hacked me to death.
I am still sans cavity. But thank God I’m not a free-bleeder.
