You had to have it your way, as if my mouth is some kind of anatomical Burger King. You didn't listen to antibiotics or even the vicodin the last time we duked it out. So I did what I had to do.
I pulled you, motherfucker.
I wanted us to work it out. I wanted to keep you in there, happily chewing my meals. But you just had to be a rebel. You thought you were so James Dean, but I think you were more Sarah Palin. A faux-badass.
But let me tell you: this road has come to an end. As you started up again today, just 2 short weeks since our last battle of wills, I knew I had to just pull the plug. So, I trekked in the middle of my busy workday the Oral Surgeon, Doctor Hottie McHottie. And Dr. McHottie did the deed. He pulled your faux-badass out of my jaw. It took him all of 45 seconds once he numbed me up and grabbed hold of you. How badass is that?
And I say good riddance. Pretty soon I won't even remember you were ever there.
Love and more antibiotics & vicodin,
Terra
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