I was a freshman, and he was a senior when

I was a freshman, and he was a senior when I first saw him. After years of admiring from a far

I just spat it out. a golden tooth. It wasn't how I'd planned to confess, but he bent down and picked it up. We both knew it wasn't mine.

"Is this golden tooth yours?" he asked needlessly. "Yes," I lied. "Where were you the night of December 13, 1992?" he asked. "I was..." then I remembered that I forgot to lisp.

I backtracked. "I wasth sthipping a sthalty dog cocktail at the Ritz bar," I successfully lisped. "And your teeth?" "All gold," I lied. "This gold tooth," he said, a couple of inch

es of gin and juice still in his glass, "cost me a grand. I lost the tooth after falling from a table in the church basement where I'd been dancing. Long story. Don't ask."

Ok, I won't ask said the priest. He smiled reassuringly. Internally he was so grateful to his creator that he didn't have to live through another meaningless parishoner story.

But his joy didn't last long. Soon the priest was replaced by a Walruslogy Preacher, who bored him to death.

Death is not even begin to actually describe how bored he really was. Then he thought am i really suppose to have these thoughts while im here. The thought of having fun and....

guessing what other people mean when they express themselves in cryptic ways. In the absence of life, no verbs existed, no words could be communicated, and Death ceased to exist.