Saving Face
When I wake from the anesthetic, there is something on my lap that looks like a maimed rat. It has a zig-zag scar on its back just like the one on my chin, the one I got from the bike wreck when I was nine.
"It was an accident," I hear someone say, and I look over to see the dentist sitting nearby, one gloved hand on his forehead, his smock spattered with blood. "I'm...I'm sure someone can put it back on."
"Gurg uht agk gahn?" I ask.
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June 19, 2006
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K, I was feeling sick to my stomach before I started the story. I read the line, "When I wake from the anesthetic, there is something on my lap that looks like..." and I shut my eyes and had to ask myself seriously, can I read this right now and be okay? I decided yes and read on. I don't regret it. The dentist sells it, baby.
Posted by: the wife | June 19, 2006 at 08:28 PM
Blood (31)
Posted by: anonymous | June 20, 2006 at 09:54 PM