Nice Bite.

I got my braces off.

The dental assistant offered me the plaster casts of my teeth that they used to fit me for my retainers. “As, you know, a memento. You have a nice bite.”

“Oh, yeah!” I enthused. “It’s kinda like owning my own skull!”

But her ghoulishness wasn’t equal to mine.

“Not very much like that,” she said. “Not much like that at all.”