It's gone

I am back. Geeze that sounds just like the pompous fart writing in the paper. But I really am back... minus the wisdom tooth, which is no tooth but a big big molar. I have it wrapped up in a box right in front of me. And I am writing fast because I don't know what pain it'll involve once the anaesthetic dies out. And I want to send a message but I have no pigeon, and even if I had I wouldn't make it go to M'Scala would I? Noooo it would be a royal pigeon sitting on a velvet burgundy cushion. Thank God for my dentit, the pain was overtaking my mind, literally, she had no option but to try and do it locally. And God being on my side, because I always, without fail, write truthfully in my blog, it worked. Although it did seem as if my molar was not giving up on the home it's had for years. Sometimes I don't know if to laugh or cry. A horrible thought has just crossed my mind, shall I wrap up the extracted molar even more carefully and DHL it to M'Scala? Because I might be missing the molar but I'm not stupid. I don't think I'm missing the wisdom because I never had much of it. Why do some people, gentle people too, think that molar pain is something you can shrug off very easily. Perhaps I should present myself and show my big gaping hole that's now in my mouth and see who is man enough not to faint. I don't faint, I love gore, I'm attracted to it. Most people aren't though and it's so nice to see them ooohhh and ahhhh and.... loosen the grip on themselves. I also have a blue certificate to go with the extracted horrible molar, probably a certificate for bravery? Maybe B = B as Blue = Bravery? Whatever, it's gone now and I can proudly show it off like a scout. I'm not as mad as people think. And this time I've got all the proof in the world.