I got my first crown just one month into the shut-in, shut-down, whatever you call it, the beginning of the time when everything changed, when the before and after split. I had been dutifully avoiding contact. I mean to say ravishfully. Introvert’s wet dream, eh? It was traumatic because (the crown)
was my first, terrified by the sound of the dentist’s drill agonizing my porcelain, afraid of pain,
but only a few days later I was in love with my new tooth. My tongue could not stop caressing it. I had fantasies of replacing all my teeth. How fucking cool is it to grind a tooth down into the shape most suitable for adhesing a fake tooth onto it?
Last week, six months into the pandemication, I broke another tooth and the piece that I pulled from between my left cheek and lower teeth (they have names), was big enough, bad enough, that I knew damnitalltohell I needed a new fucking crown. Where was the glee?
Second crown not so traumatic, mostly because I knew what to expect but also because one tooth closer to bionimouth. Fuck yeah, bad ass fake teeth.
Thought I was clever bringing my earbuds with me, hey doc, I don’t feel like listening to you talk, mind if I listen to music, how could he say no, he said, of course, he said, no, of course not, what are you listening to, oh, an obscure australian band, the renderers, you wouldn’t know them, of course, he didn’t (of coarse knot).
Aanna know what it sounds like to listen to my favorite band of all time while getting my tooth ground down like a? I don’t have a metaphor for that, because it’s already a metaphor, it was like my best friend screaming at me as loud as possible, I can’t make out what they’re saying because loud, but also because dentist drilling, remember? But mostly because they are screaming at me while i’m getting my tooth metamorphed!
Tic Toc on with the clock two days later my new crown cracked in half, shattered, bloodied, fragment of a tooth in my hand, the initial panic was of a third crown but no i’m not that lucky it was the temporary crown, the brand fucking new temporary crown, that split in two then why was there blood? I have kno idea.
You know that nightmare where your teeth crumble into thousands of tiny little pieces in your mouth? I’m living that dream right now. It’s a boomer thing, try to understand. Mercury, amalgam, metal, expands and contracts and slowly pressurizes the enamel tooth into a state of fragility just waiting for the tiny but crunchy little shard of raw cacao nib.
BTW, you do know they throw the mold away so there’s no chance of getting a new temporary fake tooth which is the only way to protect the now vulnerable nerves whose existence is the cause of all my fears. Sure throw it away, it’s gross, can you imagine a drawer full of used crown molds? I get it, can you make a new mold? No we don’t do that, learn to use your tongue.
Tongues surprise. Maybe not them but me. It only took about two days to find the right muscles to contort mine in place over ole stubby, allowing me to drink coffee and wine without wincing.
At first I was afriad to explore but my tongue soon found new stub and couldn’t help but feeling them up. My new-found appreciation for the shape, contours and texture of my teeth, to fascinate my tongue. Have you ever met the inside of my first premolars (first bicuspids)? So silky i’m thinking of jerking off to them.
But the point I came here to make is this: Vampire Teeth. Cat Teeth. Topiary Teeth. Eye Teeth. Dice Teeth.