SNAGGLETOOTH
Snaggletooth’s Coronation
What, that’s not what “Let’s put a crown on that tooth” means?
That chip on my tooth came to me by way of a railway spike I had dug up behind the barn of my childhood home. I was around ten, lying in bed, idly throwing the spike into the air and catching it. Plainly the potential for damage should I NOT catch the spike never occurred to my very immature male brain.
Yes, I missed a catch. The spike hit my teeth and it hurt. Did I run to a mirror to see what happened? Of course not. What ten-year-old boy would think of doing that?
I noticed later, maybe when I was brushing my teeth. Was I horrified? No. Upset? No, not at all. I thought nothing of it. So I broke a tooth. So what? If any of my family ever noticed, I don’t remember. The tooth and I went on together for decades. Many decades.
Dentists and dental hygienists mentioned it sometimes. I’d tell them about the spike and that was that. Until, a couple of years ago, a new dentist joined the practice I was using. He noticed the chip and was the first to ever speak these words to me:
“Hey, I could file old Snaggletooth down to look a bit more even. If you want, of course.”
