Tongue / Giddy
by Ajay Nair
I was eating my second slice of pizza when I bit into my tongue. I had cut firmly into the left side of my tongue, just past the point of where it curves in from the tip, adjacent to the inside of my cheek. I felt the blood spill and tip over into the cave of my mouth. A delicate thrill buzzed my face. I knew I had a private game to play for the next couple of days at least. I was already looking forward to scraping the wound against the lower edge of my upper canine, or better still, lightly gripping that part of the tongue between my teeth, pressing down with exquisite precision. This would keep me company in the darkest hours of the night, this rawness housed in my mouth, my injured flesh. I felt giddy at the prospect.
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Sorry, couldn't read past the second sentence! Just going to give it a fave and ease on out...
Biting tongue = no fun!
I wish I'd written this! It's as revolting as my last story. Yes, this reminds me of squeezing spots or picking scabs. FANTASTIC.
Fave line: was already looking forward to scraping the wound against the lower edge of my upper canine... and also this one: This would keep me company in the darkest hours of the night, this rawness housed in my mouth...
Gorgeously gruesome.
Aw, Matt, you are a wimp, man. Thanks!
Thanks Martha, glad you dig revolting.
Ajay, I AM revolting ;)
Nice, Ajay! I love the direction you take with this in the last few sentences.
Then, Martha, I can see why this works =)
Thanks Christian, glad you liked this.
Ajay, This is a great little piece. Everybody's had that or a similar experience. You always immediately think ahead: of days & days of discomfort or bother ahead. Here you turn that notion on it's ear! Yikes!
Thanks Jack. Always enjoyed controllable pain.
Two tongue pieces in a single morning! Oh, the wonderful detailed analysis of exactly where and how and what will be, his private game!
Ah, well, tongues are omnipresent. Thanks for the read, Cherise.
A universal story. Anyone who reads it will relate. That sore you can't stop picking at, the scab at the elbow. We occupy ourselves with our wounds, all of us, those both on the outside and the inside. Terrific to see a story written that speaks to that, and in such a strong voice.
Ha! Enjoyed this a lot.
Thanks Sheldon, Kari, appreciate the comments.
Ajay, Ajay, Ajay. I've watched you grow since meeting you here, and now, well, you're wandering into such dark but delicious territory. Or are we just seeing the real you emerge? Nice one.
Thanks Susan, appreciate your feedback. And yeah, this is probably closer to the real me, whatever that might be, I think.