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The tooth story...
It was a busy saturday night, three deep at the bar. Me, my waitress,
and maybe a doorman or two were all that was left. I was slinging drinks as fast as I knew how. The shots were rolling. A
barrage of fire water was being offered too me " lemme get six shots of whiskey, and one for you my good bartender".
The end of the night was nearing, half in the bag, I was rushing furiously around the bar trying to get it clean, while attempting
to roust the last of the drunkards out the door. I noticed one of my pour spouts remained on an empty bottle. I heaved and
hoed, but nothing happened, and then in my poor state a grand mistake befell me. My teeth closed on the side of the spout,
and I gave a hard yank while biting down, "pop". Out came my tooth,[ it was already half fake that had been replaced
years ago] it dance across the sticky floor behind the bar. O' shit, I gotta work in the morning and most of my front
tooth is on the floor, o well. I spent the remainder of the evening toasting my dead tooth with my friends, head buried
in a whiskey bottle. Morning comes so quick. Grab the toothbrush pull on yesterdays dirty work pants, throw on the half clean
shirt in the corner, don't forget the tooth on your night stand. I get to work, rush around frantically getting ready
to open the bar for the mild lunch rush I might get. The problem is I still don't have a front tooth, I look like some backwoods
redneck straight out of deliverence. The cook tells me he has some stick fake skin stuff in the first aid kit. Can't hurt
too try. We douse my tooth in this toxic smelling substance and stick it on to the stub of a tooth thats left, five minutes
later I'm removing my half tooth to purge the vomit that has arrived at the back of my throat. O' well, it halfway
works to keep it in. My first customers arrive, I seat them, take their order [so far so good, the tooth is still in], and
relax until their food gets there. Foods ready and out it goes, the couple in the corner first, and then the lady at the bar.
I set her plate down, politely ask if she needs anything else and then it happens. Plop, plop, plop, my tooth ends up next
to her fork. I'm devestated, apologies start rolling out of my mouth. She kindly smiles, tells me she had a fake tooth
that wouldnt stay in, and proceeds to let me in on the secret of denture cream. Needless to say the tip was excellent, this
fine lady and I laughed together, and I ran to the pharmacy for the miracle they called denture cream. That tube carried me
a month until I could afford the 850$ cost of my shiny new tooth. Thank you fixodent, thank you nice lady, thank you mr dentist.
Lake Bacardi
Hello, I get drunk too. However, I don't drink Bacardi near lakes in the
woods anymore. Here's why... I was camping with some friends of mine at a small lake in the wilderness near my home,
when some asshole brought out a bottle of Bacardi Limon after we had finished all of our beer. I was new to the hell that
is Bacardi, so I believe what happened was entirely the booze's fault and not my own. Tens of minutes into the bottle
I realized how inviting the lake looked and since my friends were in various states of comatose and couldn't stop me,
I stripped naked and went for a knee deep swim. That's when I "saw" the alligator( earlier that morning I watched
'Lake Placid' on TV, dumb)and panicked! Several kicks and elbow drops later I got back to shore, got dressed and promptly
passed out. In the morning I found out that sometime during my escape I had stepped on a branch or something in the water
and put a hole in the side of my foot. I had to clean the mud out of the hole by shoving Q-tips through over and over again...sober.
I really thought about crying, and decided instead to never EVER get drunk at a lake again, while drinking Bacardi. The end.
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