Spitting Teeth

So I was down in South America, in some little town in some little country. A dentist there was doing something he called "binding," in which an apparatus is secured onto someone's head and two hammer-like devices crush the back part of the jaw. The end result is a jawline that starts very small and then gets wider as it approaches the chin.

I was shocked. It looked horrific. But the dentist explain that not only was the tradition of binding connected to several regional religious practices, it was actually a sign of great prosperity and was considered wildly attractive. One little boy disagreed. He did not want to go through the binding process.

So, to show him that there was nothing to be afraid of, I strapped the apparatus on and had my own jaw bound. I immediately didn't care about the local custom or that people in that area were going to think I was good-looking. I was spitting teeth -- literally. The dentist who oversaw the procedure said I would get over it and laughed it off.

I ran up and down the halls, looking for another dentist. My teeth kept falling out. Every time I spoke, I spit another tooth out. I was collecting them. I could feel them continually getting looser and falling out of my head. If I tried to whistle, I'd spit three teeth out.

Finally I woke up and could put the whole nightmare behind me.