Wisdom Teeth

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Hello all.

So this chapter takes place in the f u t u r e and it's Jemma getting her wisdom teeth out and hilarity ensues. All spelling errors are intentional.

Word count: 1587

Warnings: none

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January 16, 2019
8:03 am

I huff as I run a brush through my hair again. I have to get my wisdom teeth removed today, and I am not looking forward to it. I'm not looking forward to babbling away high on laughing gas, I'm not looking forward to being in am immense amount of pain for a week straight, I'm not looking forward to any of it.

Dad knocks at my open door. "You ready to go?"

I shoot him a glare. "Yes," I mutter.

"I don't understand why you're mad at me. I didn't do anything."

"I got your stupid wisdom teeth genes. And you scheduled the appointment so it's a week before midterms. Midterms, Dad."

"Okay, I'm sorry I scheduled it before midterms; that's my bad, but you can't pin the genetics on me."

"We ready to go?" Uncle Sam asks as he appears in the doorway.

I roll my eyes. "Great. Now I have an audience to be an idiot in front of."

Uncle Sam raises his hands in surrender. "Your dad asked me to come."

Dad glares at him. "I asked you to come in case Jemma needs something and I'm driving. It's an hour drive, you know."

"Let's just go," I murmur and head for the garage, Dad and Uncle Sam following.

~

"Jemma?"

My head shoots up at the sound of my name. I stand and turn back to Dad and Uncle Sam. "See you on the other side. And please don't ever mention what I say to you when I'm high. I don't want to know."

"Okay," Dad says, a smile playing at his lips.

"I mean it, Dad."

"I promise I won't mention what you say when you're high."

"Okay. See you later."

"Good luck, Sunshine."

~

I wake up on the dentist chair. My limbs are all... tingly. I giggle. It feels good. There's a ringing in my ears, but it isn't bothering me too much. There's something in my mouth, and I can't feel it.

"Well, look who's up," the dentist speaks. "Ready to go home?"

"Yesh," I answer, the things in my mouth distorting my speech. The dentist puts the chair up.

"Get up when you feel ready, okay?"

When I'm ready. I'm a Winchester; I'm always ready! I stand up quickly, then teeter back and forth. Why is the floor trying to make me fall? It's not very nice. I feel someone gently grab my arm, and I shake it off. I'm not a baby. I can walk by myself.

The entire building is trying to make me fall down as I walk to the waiting room with the dentist. Why is it doing this to me? What did I ever do to the building? Mean building.

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