The Bloody Doors Off

Doc Sugarman recommended a Poligrip powder for my top plate.

Finally got it yesterday.

Tried it today.

The plate stayed in, through breakfast and lunch, right into the middle of dinner.

When it dislodged.

So yeah. If I’m ever gonna eat in public.

I’ll have to work on that.

Can’t believe how self-conscious I am of this.

I’ve dropped my pants in an improv scene.

In front of a capacity audience.

(I wore boxer briefs.)

I’m an exhibitionist, fer jeebus’ sake.

(Except when I’m not. I can also be very shy.)

What is it about my teeth?

For years I’ve dreamt of crumbling teeth.

Prescient?

I am somewhat psychic.

I felt the events of 9/11 four days before it occurred.

My ex-girlfriend will vouch on that.

I knew my grandfather (dad’s side) would pass hours before we got the call from hospital.

I dreamt Allison and I would have an argument at my friends Doug and Kim’s wedding.

And the reason for that fight was dead on.

Too bad I never saw the high school prank coming.

But I don’t feel like talking about that tonight.

Okay, Cole’s Notes (or Cliff Notes if you’re American).

I wanted to fit in with the drama kids.

I was a legacy. My brother Wayne was in the golden age of Cedarbrae’s Drama Club.

So I’d pretend that I drank at parties.

Dumb ass shit.

So at the Sear’s Drama Festival, a few of them decided to play a prank.

Offered me orange juice.

Told me it was spiked with acid.

And waited to see how I’d react.

If I’d act stoned.

Which I did not.

Finally one of the seniors burst into the room. Having heard of the prank, they came to rescue me and admonish those responsible. I think they threatened to tell our teacher.

I took off.

Found a place to hide in the hotel.

Stayed hidden for two hours.

While they frantically searched for me.

It ended in tears.

Apologies were made and accepted.

I learned a lesson.

If you’re gonna act drunk, you might as well get drunk.

The end.