T’was that time again today, time to visit ol’ Dr. Painless. Him I don’t mind as he’s really quite nice and actually a pretty fine dentist.
But Nurse Ratchet, his assistant, is unfortunately well practiced in the art of masochism. Seriously, are Dental Assistant’s smocks suppossed to be black leather? I think she took offense once before when I requested someone else to do my cleanings from now on after she made me cry in the chair. I’m a Dad. I shouldn’t be made to cry in the chair. So now she takes great relish in adding injury to that insult via my oral cavity. Bummer.
I was getting two crowns today for teethes 14 and 15. He filled my cheek and gum with the entire painkilling contents of a large needle and then left the room for a moment. Nurse Ratchet, as if on cue, then approached me and whispered into my ear… “Is it safe?” :eek:
As she tightened the straps securing my arms to the chair, I tried hard to concentrate on the radio and the laughing gas (as if there’s any other kind). Painless then came back in, resplendant in his hard hat with equipment usually reserved for street construction. Let the games begin.
He first began grinding my once pearly smooth enamel down until it began to resemble a small fence post. The noise was teriffic and effectively drowned out the Metallica on the radio. I could feel shrapnel that was once my tooth begin to fly everywhere, including into Nurse Ratchet’s face, and saw her smile from the pain. There was now smoke emminating from my mouth and she tried to breathe it in deeply as if from a bong hit. Ummm, okie dokie, now I’m scared.
The drill bit shattered from the pressure and Painless decided to remove the rest with an automotive belt sander. Nurse Ratchet leaned hard against me to prevent my flight, unfortunately thus pressing her naughty bits against my forearm, so hard in fact that when she moved back a minute later the impression of a sombrero was still clearly visible.
She also seemed to take great delight in manning the suction hose in my mouth and was well acquainted with all the sites in the mouth than can elicit a gag reflex. She touched them early. She touched them often. The gas had me a bit giddy and as I gagged on her hose I started thinking about what would happen if I just started blowing chow right then and there. Dr. Painless looked like he might be a sympathy puker and the thought of he and I chucking in unison got me started giggling. This of course convinced the two of them that I was in absolutely no discomfort whatsoever. :rolleyes:
All things whether good or bad though eventually come to an end. I spit out the remainder of my ex-teeth and made my way to the cashier to give her an amount that exceeded my mortgage payment and to make another appointment for three weeks hither so they can pull the temporaries and force feed me a couple of permaments. Ms. Ratched began wringing her hands in anticipation.
Back at work, a couple of cow-orkers came into my office and found great merriment at the way only half my face responded when I tried to talk or laugh. I too looked on the mirror and busted up at just what a dork I looked like, equating the appearance best to that from wavy mirrors at the Circus Fun House.
Fortunately, a really nice liquor store sat just around the corner from Dr. Painless’ office. In it, I found a very nice '97 Silver Oak Cabernet.
I think I’ll open it tonite and briefly enjoy it’s wonderful boquet and heavenly taste before it slides gently off my palate and dribbles down my chin.