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Dentist



You know the drill

I'm lying back on a long white lounge chair. It looks comfortable but it really isn't. There is a headrest its job is to keep my head in place. My head is not the problem. It's my neck or rather the pain in my neck. Today is just a cleaning. It should be quick. At least that's what I tell myself. The hygienist is a sweet girl and she wants to talk. I am wearing dark glasses. Strangely, there are two complimentary things they give you at my dentist:  A TV to watch and glasses that make it almost impossible to watch. I politely engage in conversation until she sticks a little mirror in my mouth. I wonder what's going through her mind. "Holey plaque Batman this going to take a while" I stop talking but she continues for my listening enjoyment. The is a TV hanging from the wall.  A renovation show is on. I'm looking through glasses once worn by Roy Orbison and wishing I could find the remote to either turn the TV up or turn her off. I find this intriguing. There is a renovation show on. It's a sales ploy. There is always a before and after. And like the show, somewhere between before and after there's a dollar sign. A little chisel here a little grinding there and bingo I have a gap for a move-in ready crown. 

A little extraction I mean distraction

I play golf in my mind while they take turns grinding and sucking my face. I remember the different courses I played and how I would play them on a perfect day. If this was a perfect day I wouldn't be lying on my back with my mouth open wide.  In this dreamy state, I play through the pain. I play nine holes during a cleaning and eighteen for more serious stuff. Luckily, today is just a cleaning but I have a date in three months for an eighteen-hole scramble and instead of the proceeds going to charity, they go into my dentist's pocket. 
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