And Ends In A Field Of Meat
The man in white poked across his mouth, and the patient swallowed. “No doc, not there,” he tried to say, but with the various metal tools in his mouth, the statement came out without consonants. “Ohh ocgh, odd ‘ere.”
“Can you open just a little wider? Just a little bit more.”
The dentist seemed to be asking Paulie to dislocate his jaw. “I’m not as young as I used to be,” he wanted to joke, knowing that were he to attempt to say that he’d likely spray the dentist with saliva and only be able to pronounce the vowels. Instead, he stretched his mouth open, feeling that same painful click he’d been experiencing every time he yawned. A squishy pop, not unlike pressing down on the base of your thumb with your opposite hand’s pointer finger and other thumb.
“Quap,”
