(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

Chapter 16
These things couldn’t be good for my teeth.
My jaw was aching from chewing, and the sweetness of the Gar-Bar was
beginning to get ever so slightly nauseating. The gummy, sticky wad was
clinging to my molars like glue, tugging at them with each bite. I idly probed
my teeth to see if they had been loosened. Yeah, this was going to be my
last one.
I held up another piece, offering it to Morte, but he shook his head.
"So Morte, what's your story, anyway?" I asked as I chewed.
"Me?" he turned his head, blinking, "Well, let me boil it down for you: when
you've been as dead as long as I have... without arms, legs, or anything else,
you spend a lot of time thinking, y'know? I figure it's been a few hundred
years since I got penned in the dead book, but time doesn't really tally up
the way it used to..."
"Yeah, I can see what you mean," I unconsciously popped another piece in
my mouth. Damn. Why did these things have to be so addictive? I felt my
jaw pop uncomfortably as I bit into the piece, and my head was starting to
ache.
"...without the mortality thing pressing down on you," Morte continued, "all
the days and nights kind of blend together. So you think about this, and you
think about that... and the most important piece of wisdom I've learned over
the past hundred or so years is this: There's a lot more obscene gestures you
can make with your eyes and your jaw than most people think."
I laughed, and the gummy wad of Gar-Bar went down the wrong tube. I
hacked a bit, coughed, and spat the gunk at the boots of a pasty-faced old
chap that looked a good deal like Dhall. His eyes narrowed into slits at me,
but the fellow merely muttered something and went on his way.
"You've got to be kidding," I choked, still clearing my throat and wiping a
few tears from my eyes.
"I'm serious! Without resorting to insults or taunting, you can really light a
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