The pain you deliver will force him to wince. It will be a selfish pain, the byproduct of
the bacteria that cause you eating away from at the flesh of the man you call
home, but it will have a decidedly mutually beneficial result. He'll ease on his brakes, your tender
ministrations will be so severe, and because of that, because of the honking
cars backing up behind him, because of the agonizing noise mixed with the pain,
the man will brake altogether for a yellow light that he would have otherwise
attempted to run through.
In that instant, the instant at which he rolls to a stop,
events will occur quickly, too fast to be recognized by the man's mind. To him there will simply be a blur of action,
followed by a brief period of sympathetic concussion: a dimmed awareness of his
surroundings framed within a sudden rush of activity. When the ringing in his head subsides, he'll
understand almost immediately what has occurred, but that won't be for at least
ninety seconds after you've made him break, a lifetime in perception of
bacterium.
As it will occur: immediately after the man stops a box truck
will barrel through the intersection anticipating a green light, striking a station
wagon heading in the opposite direction that the man was travelling which will
be moving through the tail end of a yellow light. The box truck will crumple the driver's side
of the station wagon, killing the driver instantly, striking him with such
force that parts of his body will be found wedged in his passenger's body, like
meat-shrapnel. His passenger will
experience permanent brain damage as a result of her injuries. The wheel of the station wagon will, in
response to the impact, wedge itself in the well of the box truck which will
cause the already top heavy vehicle to flip under its own weight, killing the
unseatbelted passenger, destroying much of the box truck's cargo, and severely
injuring the driver, who will have been wearing his seatbelt loosely.
Meanwhile you'll be in the mouth of the man who would've
been between the box truck and the station wagon, percolating away at his
flesh, irritating his tooth, leaving him baffled and in pain as the twisted
metal in front of him settles, finally looking like the exhausted bodies of two
mechanical lovers splayed nearby one another on the road. He won't think to praise or thank you for
saving his life in these new, unearned moments, but he really should.
Congratulations Irritating Tooth!
