tcsa

Kicking and Screaming

I have to go to the dentist pretty soon. Okay, I'm supposed to be there in like an hour. That counts as pretty soon. Too damn soon for me.
I got up extra early so I could brush my teeth every ten minutes until I walk out the door, and I have a travel toothbrush and the ever-present desire to spit on idiots in MY lane on the freeway, thus serving two masters right there.
I don't wanna go.
It's been four years since I last laid back, helpless, and opened wide for a strange man with a variety of implements with which to probe me. This time frame should tell you how much I wanted to rush right back into the same situation and experience the same gleeful abandon that makes me say things like "Sure, I'll take another fluoride rinse!" and "No, no, go right ahead, double-bill me for procedures I haven't ever had, it's all in good fun, right?"
Bastards.

So, I have to go to the dentist pretty soon. Very soon. Too damn soon for me.
The last dentist I went to was so diligent in his cleaning that I left his office packed to the jowls with cotton wads, to absorb the blood he'd gouged from my tender little gums, who'd never harmed anyone and were innocent of any crime warranting that sort of abuse. And as I left, doing my "Godfather" imitation, unable to move my entire lower half of my skull, the man offered me a lollypop.
I did the only thing I could do with my jaw botox/novacained into a block of throbbing granite... I glared.
Dr. Probemepokememakemebleed misinterpreted.
"It's okay" he smiled. "It's sugar free!"

Yeah, I have to go to the dentist very soon. And I'm not thrilled.
It doesn't exactly put me at complete ease that the current Mengele of the molars thinks he's a funny guy. At one point, in the last visit, he had both hands in my mouth, and was apparently looking for the crew of the Marie Celeste somewhere south of my tonsils. Suddenly he stopped, and stared fixedly into my eyes.
I got a bit worried. Dr. Olderthanmud was going to have his long-awaited stroke and fall forward, jamming both hands down my gullet so hard that once they pried him off with the jaws of life, I'd still be pooping latex gloves three weeks later.
But no... he was just winding up for the pitch....
"Is it....." he muttered. "Is it.... is it SAFE?"

I think I'll wait until the bill comes before I take care of him. Once I show them the balance due, no jury in the world will convict me.

I have to go to the dentist now.

Posted by LeeAnn at July 28, 2004 07:28 AM