Young Master, Your Toothworm Baby Is Throwing Another Tantrum
I'm a little toothworm.
Right now, I'm hiding in the gap beside a man's back molar, listening to him say in a voice cold enough to freeze me solid, "Little pest, I'll give you a million. Come out on your own."
What a nutcase. Do I even have a bank card?
Besides, if I could find food outside by myself, would I still be living in the pitted gap between your teeth?
I have to eat that damn black truffle foie gras every day. It's so salty I'm dehydrated, and so greasy I keep slipping around.
And now you think you can get rid of me with a million?
I sulkily stick myself to the plaque and refuse to budge.
Suddenly, I feel the man outside tense up, as if he's gritting his teeth.
Then comes a violent clench.
Look at those lovely little yellow teeth!
The moment he puts some force into it, he gets all fierce, loses himself, and goes wild!
