I named my tooth Dick Cheney

Day One:

Was it Prince Machiavelli who advised keeping your enemies close? I named my upper right molar Dick Cheney, just so I’d know where he is. No more undisclosed locations, no more hiding behind tinted limo windows, sneering at the masses. I can go to the mirror at any time, even up to a plate glass window, and there he is: old, dingy, discolored, showing all those years of abuse and misuse. He can’t escape my withering gaze.

Once Dick Cheney was young and virile. Once he could bear down on most anything and grind it into submission. He could tear into you, masticate all comers, bite off even more than he could chew. But as the years went by Dick Cheney began to show his age. He needed medical attention. He leaned far to the right, became pitted, yes even rotten. Some major repairs had to be made. Even so, Dick Cheney pressed on. Sure, he looked somewhat presentable after some cosmetic work cleaned up his image, but underneath? Underneath, unseen by most, the rot of a lifetime’s bad choices festered and decayed. Dick Cheney became unstable. He began to look bad. In fact, upon close inspection, he looked rather evil.

I’ve had it with Dick Cheney. Experts in the field have been telling me that he no longer serves a useful purpose, that in fact; Dick Cheney is a detriment to my health. Something has to be done. It can’t be put off any longer. Dick Cheney must be removed.

Day Two:

Today Dick Cheney was removed. It was relatively easy and painless. Now I have my hands on him. He is rootless, ugly, and seems rather small. What should I do with him? Throw him in the trash? Bad idea: someone might find him and use him for even more nefarious deeds. Drop him down the sewer? No: the rats might discover him and turn him into some sort of idol. How about I just throw him out the window onto the road? Another bad idea: anything can happen on the road. After more serious consideration I decided to tie him to the train tracks. He looked pretty pathetic lying there, unable to save himself, alone and forlorn. I liked that. I waited for the train. I waited, and waited, and waited. The train never came. I began thinking some more about the fate of Dick Cheney. Would he become another rightwing martyr if people found out? I quickly untied him and continued home.

When I reached home it occurred to me that I could just recycle Dick Cheney. I could simply toss him into the compost bin and eventually he would decompose. Then his remains could be put to good use. Dick Cheney could nourish something other than hatred and profits. No. That won’t work either. All those makeovers of the past filled Dick Cheney with toxins, substance you wouldn’t want as part of your diet. Dick Cheney would poison the compost pile. What to do? What would YOU do with Dick Cheney?