In 2001, my dentist told me I had a cracked molar and that I should think about having a crown put on.
Me: How does that work?
Dr. C: Oh, it's no big deal. You simply break off the cracked portion, remove any old fillings that remain and grind down what's left of the tooth so it acts as a post for the new crown. Piece of cake!
Me: Um yeah, sounds like fun. Hey, I'll get back to you on that!
Dr. C: Ok, but make sure you don't bite down on that molar with anything hard like ice or candy or small rocks.
And so for the next 5 1/2 years I cleverly avoided chewing on diamonds and metal fragments, erstwhile keeping my cracked molar in tact and crown-free.
And then one day last December I was innocently eating some taconite pellets and suddenly I was spitting out tooth parts. What the...?!!!
Fortunately, Dr. C had a solution...
Dr. C: Jeff, you've broken off the back corner of your tooth, but I can fill it in with this temporary filling material for the time being. We should definitely order up your crown appointment now.
Me: You mean you can fix it with temporary stuff?
Dr. C: Yes, but there's a reason it's called temporary. That's because it's NOT permanent. Do you understand the difference Jeff?.... Jeff?.... JEFF, YOU NEED TO ORDER THE #$*&!#* CROWN!
And finally last week the battle was over. While chewing on a soft squishy piece of gum, the entire back half of the tooth came off in my mouth. The next morning I was back at Dr. Doom's office.
Me: Hey doc, can you squirt some more of that temporary stuff in there? I promise to be more careful when I eat. In fact, I won't even use my mouth anymore! I've heard that if you blend your food fine enough you can suck it through your nose.
Dr. C: Next week. Crown.
Which takes me to yesterday.
Dr. C: So Jeff, what kind of crown do you want, porcelain or gold?
Me: I'll go with white, thank you. I've decided my future as a rap star was questionable. But if I ever need a grill I'll be sure to let you know.
Twenty minutes later I had four hands in my mouth along with a drill, water and suction. As I lay there attempting to breath through my skin like a frog, the drill found the only non-novicated nerve in my head and sent out a warning shot.
Dr. C: Oh, can you feel that Jeff?
Me: Ymph, hmm dmp oo nmph? (Translation: Yeah, how did you know?)
Dr. C: You're clutching your testicles.
And so after a full hour of dental abuse, here I sit with a brand new crown, ready to rule my kingdom. Now all I need are some servants to fan me with palm leaves and feed me some grapes.
But preferably the seedless ones. A king can only wear one crown.