i brush my teeth. more than once, twice, sometimes…gasp…as much as three times a day…or more- does that make me a dentist’s best friend? does it mean i get a sticker and a lollypop? does it mean i don’t have to bite on that tasteless thing they stick in your mouth when a guy that looks like Doctor Evil comes in to…and you bite down and yuck!!!! that is so gross…and, by the way….
…drooling down your shirt can be traumatic. i remember. and yes, i know what that word means, i got an IQ.
she was cute. well, she was as cute as a soft smelling puppy dog…no, strike that…a happy…no, a cuddly teddy bear- that smelled like fabric softener. yeah, fabric softener. maybe she was wearing it…Eau du Fabric Softener. and she had kind eyes. how do i know? she smiled at me through her eyes. that’s right. you think i’m kidding? would i kid you? well…maybe…
i had a “cute” bib on. OK, so I broke a rule. but it was cute. Like “older woman cute,” as in something my mom would buy to put on our dining room table- it was white like everything inside this place….
but then my dream babe said, “spit,” and I spat. and it was good….but then…but then…you know what?
then she put that water thing in my mouth! what the heck did you put inside MY MOUTH!
i yanked it out and it sprayed everywhere. she put it back in again. “Now, honey, just relax.” She took that thing out again. Finally. Then she smiled with her eyes and said “Spit…that’s good.”
relax? i’m going on sixteen years old here! i have pimples the size of Mount Olympus that are threatening to go volcanic any moment and you say “relax?” That Odyssey guy- he never went through torture like this. and now, this super hot hygenist is looking at me like i’m two fries short of a happy meal. Oh yeah, I am DROOLING down my shirt…
and suddenly, a door opens, the light fades, and i hear a voice, as if calling me from the grave...
“Honey, are you all right? You drooled all over your pillow.”
“Really?” I said, looking down at the fluffy cloud i just left.
“Well, I’ll just go get a new pillowcase out of the dryer…here, let me have that.”
“That’s OK, I don’t need one…I’m too tired anyway…”
‘But honey, they’re dry now. Let me get a nice clean one.”
“I don’t want another one. That fabric softener stinks.”
“I told you, they ran out of it at the store.”
she left the room…
“likely story….”
and as I lay my head on the pillow, it all came back to me…and once again, she leaned over and said “spit…that’s good.”
The Lost Kerryman 