My Bad Trip
For a while now I've had a tooth that bothered me.
20 years.
Well longer.
Anyway I've been told to have it pulled for a while now but since I'm deathly afraid of dentists I've been postponing it. However for the last few weeks it's been bothering me a great deal. My consumption of Advil has gone though the roof.
Finally this Tuesday, as I stood on the playground watching the fourth graders play, ( I work at school.) it became unbearable. I called and made an emergency appointment to get what was left of said tooth out of my mouth. ( rest of my teeth are fine.)
The event itself went fairly well. The Dentist shot my mouth with four injections of painkillers and proceeded to rip the remains of the tooth out of my jaw. He seemed to be taking a great deal of frustration out of my tooth. As he was doing this he also made the usual dentist small talk about the weather and other things that I was unable to respond to as he was ripping pieces of tooth out of me.
When it was over I mumbled though a mouth of blood and gauze, "Will I need anything for the pain?" He stated that in all likelihood that I would be in considerable pain and wrote me out a presciption for a painkiller. I had it filled.
That night around 8.30 my jaw began to ache. At 8.40 my jaw felt like Mike Tyson had been pounding on it. I looked at the bottle of painkillers. "Take 1 or 2 as needed for the pain."
Ok. I'll take two I thought.
I went to bed at 9.30
At 11 I woke up suddenly. My entire body felt like there were bugs crawling all over me. I kept trying to wipe the imaginary insects off me. When I turned on the lights I saw my Ex-Wife Angie standing in my room repainting my bedroom walls.
Pink.
"What are you doing here?" She looked at me like it was obvious but refused to answer. I sat there watching her paint. She looked really bad, kinda yellowish.
I thought I'm never going to get any sleep with all these bugs crawling over me, and my yellowish ex-wife painting my bedroom. So I got up and went downstairs to watch TV. To my horror when I got down there I found she had painted my television screen pink and my sofa and chair. Wet paint signs hung everywhere.
I was about to go upstairs and bitch her out when I heard a knock on my door. I opened it but there was no one there. I closed it and turned around and saw my nephew.
"Tom I need your Spider-man # 1!" And he ran up the stairs and began looking in my comic book boxes. He became more and more upset as he couldn't find it. I tried to help but the fact I didn't own a Spider-man #1 and that there were now over a million bugs crawling all over me, made me a bit slow.
The bugs were very sneaky. When ever I would look at my arm they would all hide. When I looked at my legs they would all hide.
But I knew they were there.
Somewhere in my drug induced haze I knew that this all a little fishy. I decided to sit down and look up the painkiller I took on the internet. Before I could look anything up Angie ran over and painted the computer monitor pink.
"Damn It Angie!", I shouted.
Kris was now getting upset about not finding Spider-man #1 so he decided to rip up all the books that were not Spider-man #1. "That way when I'm done the one not ripped up will be the one I want." I couldn't argue with his logic.
It went on like this All night. I went back to bed when Angie and Kris promised me they would try to be quiet. The bugs also sent a representative(A 6 foot brown cockroach named Larry) who assured me they would also be quiet.
They kept their word. They were quiet. But I knew they were still there.
Finally around 5.30 in the morning I came out of it. My room wasn't pink. For that matter neither was my computer nor my television. My comics books were not ripped to shreds, and Larry assured me that the other bugs were also just my drug crazed imagination.
Somehow I made it to work. At 9 I called the pharmacy and told them what happened. "Ah that is one of the side effects. Maybe you should stop taking it?"
"You think?" I said a bit harsher then I needed to. Larry pointed out that it wasn't their fault i had a bad reaction to the medicine.
Here's the punchline. My brother Geno called me up today. He wanted to know if I had any left.
Larry told me not to give him any.