Old Man Pulaski And The Infamous Jawbreaker Blackmail

April, 1965

Anyone who has ever experienced a first-degree, big-league, card-carrying, bone-shattering toothache in a major molar at three A.M. in the quiet solitude of night has stood at the very gates of hell itself. There are no words in the language that can adequately describe the ebbing and swelling, ebbing and swelling, then the rising to even greater heights, then again deceptively receding, only to turn again to the attack; the nagging, dragging, thudding, screaking ache of a tooth that has faced m...

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