Just Give me a Warm Rinse of Salt Water ‘fore I Diiie
If you are reading this it means I am already dead, having starved due to the incalculable pain caused by eating while afflicted with this canker sore, which by the way is not herpes.
In these, my last days in this world, I have been unable to enjoy simple pleasures such as whistling a tune or playing a trumpet without the reminding sting of agony emanating from this tiny ulcer on the inside of my bottom lip, which of course is in no way a “fever blister” or “cold sore” or “herp”.
Maybe I brought it upon myself. Maybe it isn’t wise, after all, to get blind stinking drunk and try to wolf down a slice of pizza that’s been sitting in the box on the counter for 3 days, growing stiff and jagged. Perhaps I bit myself in my mouth during a nightmare. It’s hard to tell. Doctors don’t know what causes canker sores, except to say that it isn’t herpes, which causes a whole other kind of sore which I don’t have.
I would like the world to remember that I loved life. I enjoyed bold foods that harshly caused tiny traces of damage to the inside of my mouth. I read great works of literature such as WebMD and trade jounals related to STD detection. I would like the loves of my life to know that I do not have herpes, just a soft inner mouth which cuts easily. Hence my demise.
Bury me with my Orajel.
The Phil Wells Dot Com 