Saturday, August 18, 2012

The Seran Smile

It was so predictable.  So very predictable.

Let me step back.   

At the risk of appearing vain, I decided to bleach my teeth a few days ago.   I wanted them to be sparkly white.  But I couldn't find my bleach tray.   
And It wasn't one of those cheap "minute rice" molds.  You know the kind...where you dip a hunk of plastic into boiling water for several seconds and then transfer it to your mouth just in time to scald your lips, gums and tongue.

I got my bleach tray from my dentist.  And talk about a process!  The hygienist made me bite into a bowl of cement and stay put for an hour or so while she made a model of my teeth.  

And it was nowhere to be found!

I considered having another impression made, but after a millisecond of serious consideration, I came up with a better idea.

All I needed was some saran wrap a little solitude.

Linda was at work and Dave was watching the Brewers game in the family room.  I was safe.  Completely alone in the bedroom.  

I cut a piece of saran wrap, folded it a couple times, injected some bleach, and stuck it in my mouth.  Clunky but functional.

Then I lay back on my couch and commended myself.  I was a stinkin' genius.  And in a couple hours I'd be a stinkin' genius with sparkly white teeth. 

Then Dave entered the room, and attempted to engage me in conversation.

Ah, yes.  So predictable.

"Blah blah blah blah...." he said, not noticing my protruding upper lip. I nodded, in agreement.

"Blah blah blah blah..." he added.  I nodded again.

It went on like that for a while until he said, "Do you have rehearsal tomorrow?"  I nodded.

"What time?"

I said, "7:15"  But it sounded more like "basdjfljat gjlaetobhip papsef."


I repeated my answer, as the saran wrap slowly loosened its grip from my bicuspids, making articulate responses even more impossible.

"How many glasses of wine have you had?" he asked.

"Not enough," I said, although it came out "salkdjfaoetgj ghiag" 

He wouldn't give up.

"What time is your rehearsal?"  he asked again.

I surrendered, ripping the saran wrap out of my mouth. I spit the bleach down the drain and screamed, "7:15!!!!!"

"You don't have to get so huffy about it," he said as he walked out of the room to watch the remainder of the baseball game.

That's OK.  So I wasn't a stinkin' genius with sparkly white teeth.  

I was still a stinkin' genius.

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