Blood on the Ceiling (bp coyle)

There was blood on the ceiling. My blood.

My brain refused to believe it. My brain had retreated from the whole nightmare and was trying to come up with a nice song to lighten the mood.

There was no clock on the walls of the dentist’s room. It felt like I had been in there for years. Maybe I had.

The extraction was not going well.

The dentists gave a huge tug with his pliers and stepped back.

‘I can’t do it!’ he exclaimed. To me. To the dental nurse who was busy wiping blood and drool from my face. ‘My hand is numb. I can’t hold it any more.’

‘It’s okay,’ my brain assured me. ‘This isn’t really happening. How about we listen to some Cocteau Twins? They always make us feel relaxed.’

The dentists excused himself and departed. ‘Little Spacey’ started in my head. An unguessable time later he returned with another man. A big man in a small white coat.

He looked like a bouncer, and I think he was.

He gave one yank and the tooth came out in one piece.

Wild laughter started in my brain and continued for many hours.