I'm being poisoned.

I kid you not.
I'm dying.
It's a very slow death, because the poison is on a drip that runs about every 30 minutes, and it's a minuscule amount, but I am being poisoned.
*cut to me clutching my chest*
Oh! It tastes awful!
You see my friends, I got an abscess on my gum a while back.
So, of course, I drove five and 1/2 hours to the dentist.
"five 1/2 hours to the dentist??"
Yes.
Five and 1/2 hours to the dentist.
What can I say?
He is a fabulous dentist, and his staff is outstanding (and funny).
If you're looking for one, and you live within an hour of Redmond, Oregon, look him up.
Not to chat, because he's busy.
To make an appointment.
But enough about him, I'm the one dying.
Focus.
Focus!
I don't know how much time I have.
So I go to the dentist.
You know, the fabulous one, and he sends me to this really nice endodontist.
If you're ever within an hour of Bend, Oregon, and find yourself having an endodontic emergency, I highly recommend him.
They don't all have creepy eyes like the picture suggests.
O.k., bring it back to me.
The endodontist is like,
"Does this hurt?"
*push on the bump*
"Yes"
"Does this hurt?"
"Yes"
And he taps on my teeth, takes an x-ray, and asks me more questions.
Then says,
"So when can you come out here again?"
and I'm all like,
"Why?"
And he says,
"You need gum surgery."
and I'm all like,
"Rats!"
So I tell him that I can't come out for a few months because I don't recreate that scene from Seven Brides For Seven Brothers...
(Save yourself some time and start the video at 5:30)

I'd get stuck on the other side of the pass until spring,
and end up feeding my sisters chickens until the snow melts.
Just kidding.
She doesn't have chickens.
She'd probably make me eat some fancy food she made, or lay on her comfy couch and make me watch DVD's with her.
Wouldn't that be terrible.
And me without my kids!
Remind me to call the endodontist back.
I'm beginning to think you might have A.D.D.
You might want to get that checked out.
Because this is about me dying,
and now you're sitting there watching YouTube videos.
*sigh*
*cough cough*
So I go home, and the next day the endodontist calls me at 9:00 p.m. (because he's kind and considerate) and asks me how I'm doing.
It was almost like he was tucking me in to bed, but not in a creepy way.
I tell him,
"I'm about ready to pop this thing, it's driving me crazy!"
and he says,
"You can pop it."
and I'm all like,
"I can??"
and he says to pop it like a zit,
then I got all grossed out, and took his advice.
Don't try this at home.
I'm trying to pop this thing like a zit, and all I'm really doing is making it hurt more, when all of the sudden - my brain kicks in.
"Your gums don't have pores. How is it going to pop?" it says to me.
And I'm all like,
"Yeah! How is it going to pop?"
So I get the brilliant idea to sanitize a needle, and poke it.
Don't try that at home either.
"Carrot, this is getting really long."
Oh I'm sorry, did you have to use the bathroom?
Go ahead, I'll wait.




















I'd hate for you to wet your pants while I'm lying on the floor dying.
Geez.
Anyhoo, all I did was create a slow leak.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Well, I didn't want you to regret telling me you loved me before I died.
I know you would.
That, and to let you know if you wanted me to inherit your millions, you'd better fork it over now send it right away.
"What if you don't die and I've given you my millions?"
Why I'll give it back to you, of course!
"Your fingers are crossed!"
That, my friend, is from the poison.
They say in the latter stages of poisoning, your digits do weird things.
*sigh*
I don't have much time.
Look, to make it easier, if you don't trust me, you can just give me half a million.
That way, if I don't give it back, you'll still have half a million dollars, and who wouldn't want that?
So, e-mail me, and I'll send you my bank account number, then you can just put it straight in.
Easier for you, and I don't have to get off my chair and wait by the mailbox off my death bed.
Hurry now.
*cough*
Run.