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 more than its share in a hard, rough-and-tumble lifetime of Juju Babies, root beer barrels, jawbreakers, and countless other addictive confections devoured during the innocent days of childhood. Like all sinners, orgiasts of all stripes, we look back with tearful, bleary-eyed nostalgia upon the very thing that reduced us to shuddering, denture-ridden, cavity-wracked hulks. ..