Move over Agatha

The other day, we had a putative dental disaster.  (Don’t you like that word ‘putative?’  I’m pretty sure I’ve never, ever used it before and will probably never use it again.  You could watch out for it for the Flapdoodle game, though, if you want.)

This putative dental disaster was very mysterious–because there was no pain and there did not appear to be any pieces missing from any of my teeth.

What happened was this:

In my usual capacity of Queen of Malnutrition, I had gone scrounging for “easy” food.  For once, this did not involve chips of any sort.  Lo!  An apple!  And some cheddar cheese.  A tasty and nutritious snack.  (I should have known this was not meant to be.)

I cored and sliced the apple using my handy-dandy apple slicer.  I sliced some cheese.  All was arranged on a plate and carried over to the rocking chair by the picture window.  Savoring the contrast of the sweetness of the apple and the sharpness of the cheese, I worked my way daintily through my most excellent meal.

Suddenly, I bit down on something hard!

I assumed–as one would–that I had inadvertently taken a bite that included an apple seed.  This would not be unbearably surprising, although it did feel somewhat harder than my recollection of previous apple seeds.  I removed the item carefully.

It was not, however, black and seedy.  It was white and almost plastic-like.  Not having any belief in albino apple seeds, I quickly came to the conclusion that it was not that.

I also quickly came to the conclusion that some piece of a filling had broken off.  It was disturbing to think of such a thing happening as a result of an apple slice, but I once broke a tooth on a cheese doodle.  Anything can happen.

However, as I said, there wasn’t any pain.  Canvasing the teeth by running my tongue over them revealed no sharp edges.  A closer inspection would be necessary.

Bathroom mirror–but you can’t really see the molars.  Flashlight.  Can’t really see the upper molars.  Hand mirror.

Hmm.  All molars apparently intact.

A mystery.

Now, one could leave it there.  No pain, no problem.  But what was this piece of something that turned up in my mouth?  If I haven’t broken a tooth, how did this thing get in my apple.

All those Halloween horror stories popped into my head.  Clearly, this was not a razor blade but what?  Some sort of BB?  Was I going to have to stop buying fruit?  What kind of malevolent spirit does something like that?

And then it dawned on me.

The apple slicer.

Sure enough, right where the metal blades meet the plastic handle, a tiny little round plastic piece was gone.

The Great Dental Mystery was solved, and I am a Dental Detective.

Do you think I should open an agency?