Is It Safe?

There have been stories for many years about people whose dental fillings have become tiny radio transmitters in their mouths. The effect reported ranges from a low buzz or high pitched squeal to a full-on broadcast from deep inside one's head. This cold prove most maddening, but since the signals that set off such wacky occurrences were caused by proximity to high-powered antennae, the folks who were affected were primarily limited to those on the outskirts of town. You know. In trailer parks. The ones with foil on the windows. How were they to discern the voices in their head form the radio waves?
Nonetheless, any sort of dental oddity is difficult, if not impossible, to ignore. This may be why I have made it my mission to keep my own teeth and gums as free and clear of debris and communications satellites as possible. Which is precisely how I found myself on the horns of a mighty flossing dilemma. Before bed, I was breaking up the plaque matrix in my usual methodical way when suddenly the slender strand of unwaxed floss frayed and broke off, stranding a tiny piece wedged between my lower right molars. I sighed, pulled another piece of floss form the spool and set about retrieving the knot of thread wedged in that tiny crack. Numerous attempts to go back between those two teeth merely sawed the floss neatly in two, much in the way those grinding plates were intended.
All the while, the bit of thread lodged in the corner of my mouth seemed to expand. Each method of removal became more frantic and distressed as I enlisted my wife's help to dig around in there. Maybe she could see that chunk of debris and bring my suffering to an end. Finally, after numerous assaults, we gave up. I went to a fitful night's sleep with the persistent pressure of something stuck between my teeth.
When I awoke the next morning, I felt some relief, but it only took a few minutes for my tongue to find the tattered ends, reminding me that there was still work to do. Before I could set about the rest of my day, I needed some relief. This time, we went in with the superior technology of waxed dental tape. Sparing you all the details of home dental surgery, I was able with the help of my loving wife to remove what had begun to feel like a fist-sized knot of rope from the corner of my jaw. I breathed a sigh of relief, and from somewhere far away I heard the voices in my head more clearly: "Buy more unwaxed floss."