The Tale of the Tooth

Living in Ohio, winters were bleak, so we rollerskated in the basement. Usually to the soundtrack of our Cabbage Patch Kids record, but sometimes we mixed it up with the Muppet Show record as well. There was a pole to grab onto and swing around and a staircase to circle.

There was also a table, which was a bit of an obstacle.

My super-coordinated, never falls down and gets hurt, athletic sister Katie was goofing off and somehow went flying into the table at full speed on her rollerskates. She doubled at the waist when she hit the table and the upper half of her body folded onto the table. I laughed. I pointed. There may have even been some guffawing.

Then I skated backwards to get enough speed to imitate what she had just done. "This is how you looked!" I taunted and went tearing off at warp speed toward that table. Just like her, I bent at the waist, and BASH! I heard a crack. I looked down and saw my tooth shattered all over the table.

There was silence. Then Katie teetered in laughter that had a question mark at the end? Tee hee hee?

Blast.