Can pain be pictured? I would invoke the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky, as well as legions of others, not just Russians.
I would add: Just think of a would-be-serious journalist being forced to cover, say, the adventures of Britney Spears. Pain. Or ballet dancers performing en pointe avec une cracked toe. Douleur. Or having to endure my withering repartee because you share the same roof. Schmerz. The list goes on.
But indulge me.
Picture a molten spike lodged in your lower-left jaw.
Or a kilowatt of humming voltage resonating through your maxillary apparatus.
Try brittle bamb
oo shoots forced under your gums.They tell me it's a root canal I need. (How prescient your most recent comment is, Wanderlust Scarlett!)
Look. I don't care if it's a root canal or an extraction or trepanation, but please just do it, willya!
Thank you.
Tomorrow. 0900 hours.
Be there. Or give me the gas pipe.
At certain moments, even the codeine is feckless. Is this a preparation for the Big Pain? The Ultimate One? If so, we (especially me) are failing wretchedly in this household, except for Brown-Eyed Girl.
BULLETIN: I hereby proclaim The Laughorist blog to be the only blog in the blogospheric universe to cite both Fyodor Dostoevsky and Britney Spears in the same, um, mouthful, so to speak.
