To My Evil tooth...

Dear Evil Tooth,

Let's talk. Where do you think you get off? Do you think it's cool being a rebel? To be a bad-ass? Well, let me tell you. You are not cool. Sure, I forgave you when you became my first and only cavity. If fact, I cared for you as best as I could and had you filled by good doctors in Holland who I couldn't understand. I did this for you. I rode all the way to Zuid-Oost Amsterdam on my bike to have you filled, and this is how you repay me.

And I cared for you again when you demanded your first root canal. I know. It was a cry for attention, like a starlet getting out of a limo with no panties. It was painful both physically and financially, but again I forgave you insolence. And we moved on.

When you flared up again with your rebel ways and demanded a second root canal, I came close to the line. Do you know I almost had you removed? I said, "Get the hell out of my mouth!" But lucky for you the good doctors convinced me that your friends, the happy good teeth that surround you, depend on you to stay straight. Even when you provide such a bad example. So I LET YOU STAY.

But now, you go too far. TOO FAR, Evil Tooth. Threatening me with a THIRD root canal is just too much. Listen carefully: I will pull you. As God and the blogosphere as my witnesses, I WILL PULL YOU. So shape up and start obeying the 4-days worth of antibiotics knocking on your door. Listen to the Vicodin coursing through your canals and quiet yourself down and relieve me of the constant pain. Do it, and do it now.

Don't make me pull you. Let's be friends again. .

Love and Peace & Antibiotics and Vicodin,

Terra