So anyway, this guy gets on the bus and begins his usual schtick, babbling on with the driver and the guy across the aisle from him. Since I'm wearing mostly black today with a not obviously open collar, he came to the conclusion that I was a preacher or something similar.
He starts making some kind of off color joke involving sex and Arab people that somehow segues into something about how stupid cops and Republicans are. Remembering my presence, he turns to me and offers his apologies in case any of his language has offended me, me being a man of god and all. I merely return my "I couldn't care less what you're rambling on about" smile but I notice that he's holding his jaw.
Noticing that I noticed him holding his jaw, he tells me about how it's been hurting him for the last few days. I feign interest (I'm such a softie that way) until he's done talking, assumably because of a spasm of jaw pain. As I look back down at my book, he puts his fingers in his mouth. Having had such pain before, I know how sometimes massaging the area can relieve the pain.
Two paragraphs later, I hear him announce "That'll do it." Reflexively I look up at him. He has a molar grasped gingerly in his fingers. I look at the tooth in his hand and he looks back at me. My furled brow may or may not reveal my surprise. "I pulled my own tooth out," he proudly says to me and starts to laugh.
The bus pulls to his stop. He stands up, looks at me and says "Pray for me, father. Say the 23rd Psalm." I nod my assent to him and listen as he walks away. "Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for you are with me..."
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