Last night I was sitting on the couch enjoying a bite-sized Heath bar, one of my favorite candies. I had just popped the last half of the bar into my mouth and bit down when I realized this one was harder than your average piece of toffee. One more chew made me think that something had made it into the toffee that wasn't toffee. I spit out the offending chunks and examined them. They looked oddly like pieces of a tooth. I was revolted. What if some factory worker had lost a tooth and it got ground into the toffee? Yeah, you've already figured out where this is going, but I wasn't that fast. A probe with my tongue found that besides the usual toffee-filled crevasses of my teeth, there was an odd crater in my back left bottom molar.
My heart sank.
I had chipped a tooth. Nay, I had destroyed a tooth. A full quarter of the benighted chopper had disintegrated into my mouth. I was picking toffee-embedded chunks of tooth out of my mouth for the next few minutes. A Heath bar? Really? My teeth can't handle a little toffee?
Now for the bets part of all. I had just been to the dentist the day before. Not only that, but after x-rays, poking, and prodding, he had pronounced me free of cavities!
Oh well, back to the dentist I go.
So what do you think, ironic or just plain unfortunate? I'd ask Alanis, but I have a feeling I'd know what her answer would be.
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