The final days of Dead Tooth

Day 39 of the 100 Word Project

This is it, old partner. We’ve had a good run. But, as you can plainly see, every other tooth on my lower jaw has a bracket on it except for you. I’m not exactly sure why your root decided to give up the ghost — hell, even dental professionals can’t pinpoint the exact causes of resorption. But this is it.

End of the line.

We’ll have a few more laughs together, for old time’s sake. I’ll continue to stain you with coffee. You will, in turn, continue to produce a dull ache whenever I attempt to floss you or dislodge food from the space between you and one of your neighbors.

Oh, yeah, about that. I’ve already notified the rest of the neighborhood about your eviction. The teeth adjacent to you have made plans to parcel up your lot and divide it between them. It’s a jerk move, for sure, but I don’t want a gap in my teeth. You’ll understand.

As for where you’ll go once you’re extracted, I’m not entirely sure. Maybe medical science will study you. Maybe I’ll ask if I can keep you. If not, then I guess I’ll meet you on the other side, wherever that is. If you see some pearly gates, and some dude offers you tickets to see Freddie Mercury, Prince, Lemmy and John Bonham in concert (but obviously not live), then you’ve reached heaven, baby. And I’ll see you there.

But not for a while. The other teeth and I have some living to do.