On Lips and Logic

       Lips can be confusing.
       Not the whole kissing thing, that part is easy to understand.  I am more or less referring to the insides of our lips.  That really squishy part of a lip that just sort of sits there when your mouth is closed.  Normally, we pay it absolutely no mind whatsoever, since we haven’t needed to consciously do anything with them (except make pucker faces and fake zombie sneers while intoxicated) for the vast majority of our lives.
       The only time we pay attention to that particular part of our anatomy, it seems, is after we’ve bit them.  
       Now, obviously, I’m not some mastermind genetic architect capable of designing an organic being from the ground up.  If I had that degree of skill, my apologies, but I wouldn’t be wasting time on a humor column.  
       If I were, however, capable of engineering something organic, I’d sure as heck not put the squishiest and most sensitive part of the mouth next to dental razor blades.
       Sure, lots of people say “I bit my lip” when they actually meant “I seem to have mistakenly chewed the inside of my cheek with a molar.”  That’s entirely different.  Molars are intended to grind food down that has already been bitten off.  No, biting your lip has a much more painful tendency to act like a tender guillotine between incisors, canines, or both - teeth whose dental purpose is to “rend flesh from bone.”
       Hmm.
       Cats, dogs, wolves, lions, tigers, alligators, what have you - funny how their lips aren’t capable of curling in underneath those rather large teeth.  Of course, they can’t speak, or at least, none of the ones I’ve met have deemed me worthy of hearing their version of accented American English.  (Yes, I would imagine animals would speak with an accent, considering they don’t have lips with which to properly form....)
       ......oh.
       Sigh.
       I suppose I’ll settle for speaking and the occasional flurry of expletives when I mistake my lips for chicken wings while devouring them.