Of Mice and Teeth

I've had a request to add photos to yesterday's blog. I was just going to edit the blog, yet I thought this might be a little more fun for me. But first, a word from our sponsor, Dr. Bill:

(blog owner's note: Dr. Bill does not officially sponsor my blog, nor even read it. As a matter of fact, when I told him I was blogging about the tooth episode, his response was "Why?" followed with "Who's going to read it?" Don't worry, he doesn't know how to text either. So why would I consider Dr. Bill my sponsor? Simply put--he has placed numerous crowns in my head, the latest of which has given me the superpower of which I cannot speak too openly)

So Dr. Bill here is a little ad I wrote for you that may help you break into the gangsta market:


If you want a grill,
Call Dr. Bill
If your need is bling,
Give him a ring!

(In an actual ad I would list his number, but I don't really have his permission. Not that he would ever know, because he doesn't read blogs. But when the gansta population suddenly started calling him and clogging his phone lines, he could be concerned).

Now the photos from yesterdays blog:



My new smile!








The door where the mice disappeared (ok, it isn' the actual door, which is brown and at my church, not my house--but in an effort to make it more realistic, I DID put chocolate in the closet before I took the picture).



Empty energy cartridge







Reserve energy cartidges

Me and Cinderella!

Like Cinderella and her glass slipper, my shiny porcelain tooth magically slipped over the titanium post in a perfect fit. Also, like Cinderella, the transformation was instantaneous and involved several mice.

The mice part isn't entirely accurate, but my friend did see a mouse dart under the door of a closet at church. The closet had candy bars haphazardly thrown upon the shelves, outside of the protective plastic bins provided for anti-mice warfare. Oh, if only I could have fit under the door of that closet...

But I digress. Back to the tooth at hand. You are probably sitting on the edge of your seat wondering if the closet door at the church is locked. No, wait, I mean—you probably want to know what superpower I received.

Unfortunately, my new power—like all superpowers—comes with restrictions. I cannot reveal the power to the general public! I'm supposed to keep it secret even from those closest to me, which, at this moment, are the dentist and his trusty assistant. I'm probably not supposed to tell my husband either.

Suffice it to say, you'll just have to observe me serving the collective good of the populace at large. I will tell you this much: Where there is injustice, oppression, or an unlocked closet full of chocolate, I'll be there!