I will break the door of hell and smash the bolts; I will summon the dead to eat food with the living, and the living shall be outnumbered by the host of them. -The Epic of Gilgamesh ÜÜ ÜÜ ŚÄŻŪŻ ÜßÜÜŽŽž ÜŻß ÜŻß ÜßÜÜŽŽž ŽŪŽÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄæ ³ ŻŪŻ ŻŻ Ž ŽŽ ŽŽ ŻŻ Ž ŽŪŽ ³ ³ ŻŪŻ Üž ßŪ ßŪ Üž ŽŪŽ Sliver ³ ³ ŻŪŻ ÜŻß ŽŽ ŽŽ ÜŻß ŽŪŽ ³ ĄÄŻŪŻ ÜŻŻŻÜÜÜŻŻÜŻŻÜ ÜŻŻÜ ÜŻŻŻÜÜÜŻŻ ŽŪŽÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄŁ ßß ßß Volume I, File XIV [062895] Writer: Rosewater A sliver of spinach sat intimidatingly on his upper front teeth. He wore a new Armani suit, had perfectly slick hair and the aroma of an expensive after-shave circling about him, but the bit of vegetable on his dental works detracted from these would-be positive aspects of his appearance to the point that he seemed less attractive than the gangly, buck-toothed MIT graduate sitting across the crowded restaurant. His lunch companion noticed it, but out of fear of a social faux pas, she kept quiet. He tried to impress her and went on and on about his supposedly important corporate occupation, his new sportscar, and described, in specific detail, the "deal" he had just wrapped up with a Japanese company, generating a large profit for the company, and possibly a promotion for himself. During the course of his spiel, he never noticed the food on his teeth. She did, of course. All she could do was nod and half-smile, the way polite people do when they really don't care what someone is saying and are preoccupied with other things, like spinach, for instance. The spinach was now ingrained to her psyche, stuck there like an embarrassing piece of toilet paper on the sole of your shoe after you leave the restroom that you don't notice until after fifteen minutes of snickering from strangers in the adjoining tables. "You should have seen me," he gushed, overconfidently. She attempted to turn her attention away from the leafy green goodness that perched atop his pearly whites by nervously fumbling through her purse. She tried anything, so long as it might keep her from glancing at his mouth. His stories were boring, making the situation worse. Nothing else could keep her attention away from the intense carnage of vegetables in his orifice, and it ate away at her. She squirmed in her seat, trying to avoid the uncomfortable situation. With each passing glance, the smidgen of flora seemed to increase in magnitude until it was the size of a cow. It spoke to her in a stage whisper: "Come here Susan. Stick your fingers in his mouth and pull me right out. You know you want to." It was tempting. However, she refrained from performing an all-out assault on him. What stopped her, she didn't know. After much nervous twitching, she attempted to tip him off to the atrocious particles of leafy greens that had taken a permanent residence between his two front teeth. She licked her teeth, hoping he would see it and self-consciously perform the same task himself, thereby eradicating the entire uncomfortable predicament. No such luck. She tried again. Once again, nothing. For a short while longer, she again attempted to ignore it, but the sliver clenched at her throat and showed no mercy to her weakening manners. Then she saw her chance for salvation. From the haze of the restaurant came Beano, their waiter. Perhaps he could help. "More water, sir?" Please, please, say yes. Wash that stuff away. Oh, God, please. "No thanks, just a check." She fell heartbroken. Out of desperation, she performed the same tooth-licking operation, but he had no response to her silent pleas. Her entire life had been filled with tragedies, but none more agonizing than this. She had no where left to turn. Her mind was a frenzy, her thoughts confused, everything became one large blur. Then, out of complete frustration, fear, anger, and discomfort, she blurted. "Hey, you've got something on your teeth." He licked the incisors, and presented them to her for inspection. "All clear?" "Yeah." (\___ ___ ___/) ŚÄ\___ ___/ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄæ ³ \\__\ /__// TNH BBS. [2112] WHQ. NUP: Woodstock. 817.346.3370. ³ ³ \__\ /__/ SysOp: Mephistopheles CoSysOps: Delirium, Sputnik. ³ ĄÄÄÄÄ\_____/ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄŁ [2112] Productions, All Rights Reserved.