Monday, March 16, 2009

Bracefaculty

Braceface.
Faculty.
Bracefaculty.

When anyone in my elementary school got braces, the third-grade teacher would buy them a milkshake.

Kismet.
Metalmouth.
Kismetalmouth.

Kids would show up, flash a crooked metallic smile, and be on their way to Milkshake Town.*

Frappe.
Appreciated.
Frappreciated.

It made me jealous, because I liked milkshakes, too.

Why wasn't I the lucky one with misshapen teeth that would lead to years of physical and emotional pain due to the Eiffel Tower being glued into my mouth (plus a delicious milkshake right now)?

Discomfort.
Orthodontist.
Discomforthodontist.

In time, I finally got my wish...
My own braces, my own milkshake, and my own regret!

Moral of the story: kids do not know how to prioritize.

Futile.
Utilitarianism.
Futilitarianism.

Also, is a sugary drink really the best gift for a child with already unhealthy teeth?

Dentistry.
Treat.
Dentistreat.

Other moral of the story: adults do not know how to prioritize.

Cavity.
Teacher.
Caviteacher.


* Not the name of a real town.
Also not the name of a real neighborhood (like Chinatown).
Possibly the name of a real place that sells milkshakes.
(Or if not already, then I call it. Hello, royalties!)

Lactating.
Ingenuity.
Lactatingenuity.

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