I'm trapped in a mobile phone. Please rescue and/or reassure me.
Humbly, I encourage the average theatre-goer to avoid unnecessary glances from local goatsmiths. Those reckless individuals endanger the lives and likelihoods of all those around them, and are not to be tolerated, by government order.
Several years ago, I had my teeth removed and ushered in a small flock of tiny birds to nest in my gums. When I open my mouth wide, they all fly out to gather food for me, their host.
During nesting season, these tooth-birds cause me constant grief. Sitting in their nests on my lower jaw, I can feel their minute beaks endlessly pecking and tearing at sensitive gum-flesh in order to feed their many young. Occasionally there is reason to release a tooth-weasel to keep the population down during these trying times, though it's undulating body is immensely ticklish and inevitably is swallowed.
The benefits of tooth-birds often outweigh the negatives, though one should always be wary of bootleg tooth-birds. Once I saw a man who had an adult vulture in his mouth, sold to him by a rogue dentist in '98; he didn't have the heart to force it to leave, because it had imprinted on him during the installation operation. It was like the son he'd never had, except larger, feathered, with an insatiable appetite for carrion.
