My Teeth

December 2, 2008
My Teeth

When I was young my teeth were done
But Scott’s were not yet done
He had his doubts that his teeth would fall
Me losing nine, he losing none
Had no other choice but to run
Dad watching with curiosity
As he went mad
Running into the bathroom
Dad closing in on the door
Opening it so gently
Scott held pliers into his mouth
Like a deer in the headlights
Did not move
Had no where else to go
Gave up the pliers
I don’t know how he even got them
Or knew it was a competition
But being that is was one
I won

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