A Letter To My Wisdom Tooth

Dear Wisdom Tooth,

    I believe we started off with the wrong foot here. When you came into my life a few years ago, you brought nothing but sleepless nights and painful mornings. You made sure my life was a living hell. For days you prohibited me from attending buffets and sumptuous dinners. I remember those days. I remember them like I remember my name. The memories still send shivers and cold sweat. Those were probably the darkest moments of my life. But I never hated you. I knew you were a part of me and hating you would be like hating myself. I forgave you for every excruciating pain you caused me. And I was thankful when your aggression abated. Our relationship improved. Then there was harmony. Or so I thought there was.

    Now, your tantrums are giving me troubles again. I'm beginning to think all this time you were merely playing me for a fool. I'm sorry to feel this way but I think you're nothing but a lying, treacherous, conspiring, spitting, no-good, low-life, pig-headed SOB. When I asked you why, you simply smirked and brought me more pain. I can't even eat Marie biscuits without crying like a girl. Your eyes told me everything. You wanted to kill me. Slowly and painfully. I hate you.

    Yes, I am mad. The anger I feel for you is nothing compared to the anger I felt when my grade school classmate stole my favorite pencil and snapped it into two in front of the class for everybody to see. My anger back then almost got me expelled after I hit him with his chair, stuffed his mouth with crumpled pad papers, dumped chalk dust in his face (better since he was asthmatic) and filled his bag with rocks and lumps of dirt. Once again, I digress. But I was that angry. But my anger for you is worse. I hate you so much that there are times when I would be tempted to pry you off where you so comfortably sit and smash your body with my Dad's sledgehammer. Then I would grind your broken self into atomic pieces using the neighbor's heavy machinery. I would then put your remains, in powder form now I believe, in a box filled with cockroaches and ship you off to Kenya and feed you to the lions and hyenas. And end up as dung. There you will experience the world of pain you so delivered me.

    But I am not threatening you. I am merely illustrating how much distress you are giving me the past two days. I still believe we can reach an amicable settlement where no blood will be drawn. Believe me, I am doing my best to understand you. But I can't do this alone. You have to reach out and meet me half way. I hope your behavior improves as soon as possible. For the betterment of our relationship.

Sincerely,

Wits