I went to the Dentist: Part 1

I went to the dentist and my teeth were... fine!!! Yes, I live - mwahahaha. In your face death misery, and most importantly decay! I mock you with my healthy gums, and chew at your bitterness and hatred with my solid and bitey white soldiers of enamul! FACE!

"Why so much loating?" I hear you cry. Let me explain.

When I was a boy I was forced to attend the dentists to the usual pre-determinded schedule of 6 months. I needed to do nothing. My Mum would pipe up when it was time, they had copies of the Beano in the waiting room, all the staff were lovely and kind, and the dentist himself was amusing and for the most part not a warden of dissapoinment and bestower of pain. Even when he declared braces were the best idea for scrawny invisible to women hormone fueled teenager. Whatever, we rode that storm and came out stronger. Everything was peaches.

Then I stopped going. Brush, floss when you remember, twice a day, yep ok I've got this. Thanks.

But these rules can be difficult to maintain when you lack motivation... gah, lets just say it - when you are lazy and thoughtless to your own dental health. This casual attitude went unchecked through University, into my first jobs and beyond - and then it happened.

Myself and a number of other people I worked with were being recognised for a job well done on a particular piece of work and we were being spoilt to a meal out at a decent restaurant. I wasn't with anyone I knew particuarly well, so I idoly chatted to my beers. Eventually a menu was thrust into my hands and I attempted to make sense of the french, however being relatively confined to the understanding of words such as "bonjour" and "cheval" the only option was to identify words that were the same in English and have a best guess. I ended up with raw beef starter and Lamb shank main. Raw beef starter. What kind of human orders that on purpose? I saw beef, I thought maybe skewed kebabs? No. Ultra thin slices of raw meat, that was so red as to convince my mind that it was in fact flesh from a recently mutilated cadavar. None-the-less very hungry and a little achohol fueled I perservered and it wasn't the animal roadkill scraps I had taken it for. Did I finish? Can't remember, but I'm not normally one to leave a man down.

Shortly after the main course was delivered, and after the betrayal of the menu for my corpse starter I was dreading the plate coming before me and being greated with a lambs head. Or arse. I was served last, dead last, out of about 25 people. In fact many people had already finished. But I didn't expect this to take very long, as with most fancy places the portions we made for those who are watching their waistelines and not their wallets and my thought process shifted to "eat this, drink up, thanks very much, McDonalds at the nearest service station". The lamb was hanging magnificently from a number of bones. I'm not mad on bones in meals, you can't eat it, it's basically the previous owner of the fleshes skeleton, and it's a battle between fingers and knife and fork that you hadn't counted on. Anyway, I began.

Not three mouthfuls into the meal came an almighty...

*crunch crunch, SNAP!!!*

What the.....

*grind grind grind, swallow*

"Man oh man, that was a tough bit of.... what, fat, bone? Have I just eaten bone!!!?" Followed by the quick inspection everyone does with their tounge, "1, 2, 3, 5, AHHHHHHH, what's happened to 4.

Me: 4? You ok buddy?
4: Ahhh, dude...
Me: 4, ah man what's happened!!?
4: Oh I feel bad, ahhhhh this is weird.
Me: I checked with tounge and he seems to think something is... *gulp*... missing!!?
4: Yeah, aaaaaah, you could say that. Lost the top corner buddy. Not gonna lie to you, it feels odd.
Me: Yeah, tounge said the same. Says it feel cavenous.
4: He's not wrong! I can't see the full extent without the lights on though. Would you mind hurrying to the bathroom and checking this out?
Me: Dude, I've love to but I'm trying to remain cool in front of all these people. I've already send messages to face to dim the red lights on the cheeks and I'm working with glands to stop the perfuse sweating. Brain is working on an exit strategy.
Brain: Matt
Me: Yup
Brain: We're gonna have to see this one out, they're taking the plates and pudding wil be server in a few moments.
Me: I like pudding!

So I sat there trying to asses the damage, remain calm.... calm!!! Calm!!! I've just lost a bit of me!! There's 0.025% less of Matt the person. Oh God, STUPID LAMB I HATE LAMB!!!

Anway, I juggled some kind of desert aorund without getting in my broken tooth, made my excuses, and headed for my car. I checked things out in the rear view mirror and it looked terrible. Not discounting the amount of redundant food parts swimming around but there was a HUGE chunk missing. It felt wierd and I mumbulled and lamented my blind food decisions.

The following morning, I trawled the net for a local dentist. I'd moved away from home years ago, and lived miles away now so I needed to find a dentist willing to work on me - which was not easy. Eventually I found one within walking distance of my place, and I booked up to see him the next day...