"Indecisor"

At the diner, Raymond asked me if I'd rather be an incisor or a molar. I didn't have an answer. An incisor or a molar? What kind of question is that? Why does Raymond ask me so many questions?

He is not Homes.

He does not have the answers. I don't know why I'm getting so worked up over Raymond's questions. He asks questions, eats, pays, and leaves. I want to ask him why he asks so many questions. I want to ask him what his favorite question is and then I want to ask him why and how he came to ask this question. I want to ask him what he'd do with himself if he couldn't ask any more questions. Would he talk at all? I would ask him what he has on his mind besides questions. I would ask, ask, ask.

An incisor or a molar?

I brushed my teeth longer than usual. I even flossed and used mouthwash. I tried eating french toast with my molars. Then with my incisors. Afterwards, I tried biting into an apple with my molars. The apple fell onto the floor. Regrette bit into the apple and ate everything but the stem. I tried chewing on rice with my incisors. But had to chew one grain at a time. After all this, I brushed my teeth longer than usual. I even flossed and used mouthwash, again.

I don't care about Raymond's questions and I care about Raymond's questions.

An incisor or a molar?

I don't have an answer.