So, my tooth crown fell off.
Because of course it did.

Because life is a dark comedy and I’m the unpaid main character.

Now, let me set the scene:

I’m so poor, even the homeless cross the street to avoid making eye contact with me.

I’m so smart, the system flagged me as a “high-risk thinker” and auto-enrolled me in the “Shut Up & Suffer” plan.

You see, in this dirty socialist health care system—blessed be its tangled bureaucracy—you don’t actually get health care.

You get a front row seat to “The Hunger Games: Dental Edition.”

Where you fill out forms in triplicate just to get told to come back in six months for a cleaning… that may or may not involve actual teeth.

Meanwhile, dentists have joined the rebellion.

They play hot potato with regulations, the government launders money through broken chairs, and nobody knows what they’re doing, but everyone agrees they must OBEY the system!

Me? I’m done obeying.

I’m not letting a clinically confused intern glue my crown back in with chewing gum and state-approved sadness.

So here’s my plan:

Skip the charade.

Go totally black market.

Find a shady business, organized crime-backed, cash-happy tooth doctor who knows what the hell they’re doing.

No paperwork.

No lectures.

No government spies hiding behind the x-ray machine.

Just:
Tooth. Crown. ReCement. Done.

I hand you cash, you hand me dignity. Maybe a lollipop if you’re feeling generous.

So—anyone got a number?

DM me. I won’t snitch.

(Unless they mess it up. Then I become Yelp with vengeance.)