Friday, 22 November 2013

Apparently I'm not in pain.

   "There's a lot of holes in here. "What happened?"
    And there was me thinking I'd gone to the dentist. I looked hurriedly around in case I'd wandered into the newsagent by mistake."

   "You took them out." His face fell as if the very concept was one he'd never come across before. "But feel free to put them back if you like."
   Ignoring my attempts at humour he asked, "So what seems to be the problem?

  "Duuurrr, pain, real hurty pain, in my teeth." He frowned, unimpressed by my scathing wit and examined the xrays he'd just taken. I pointed to the offending gnasher to no avail. He poked and prodded every tooth in my mouth and then in desperation at my absolute refusal to scream, reverted to plan B by cramming my mouth full of ice and set about smashing my teeth with an iron bar - or so it felt.

   "Any pain now?" he enquired hopefully, staring up towards the tastefully lowered ceiling where I was hanging by my fingernails.

  "*** you" I almost screamed but contented myself with "Of course there's pain. I've got toothache!!! "

   "Well it's your own fault, you haven't been here for two years." I wonder why.

   "The only thing wrong with your teeth is that they're filthy, he shuddered in revulsion as he recovered from the sight of my ghastly maw. "They'll need to be scaled. Are you using that Hollywood Gleem?" He often speaks in italics, perhaps as a result of listening to gibberish or the screams of his victims all day.

    "Because if you are you'd better stop as what's left of your pearly whites will be history in six months. Get some Repair and Protect."

   "Ah," I said, quite cleverly I thought, " but you can't repair, or renew enamel according to you."

   "This stuff can." I decided not to enquire if he was on some kind of retainer from Colgate as he turned with a flourish. "That'll be.....pounds."

   "What about the National Health?" He smiled indulgently as if enduring the questions of a small child or particularly dense simpleton.

   "Not for teeth. Come back next month and we'll clean them. That'll be the end of your problems." He'd cleverly cleared anything with which I might have slaughtered him so I left with a snarl.

   And if all that were not bad enough, on the way back from the alleged dentist I stopped off to get my hair cut. Now I'm fully aware that the flushes of my youth are gone but afterwards the cheeky little sod asked if I wanted a pensioner's discount. I nearly stabbed him with his own scissors.

1 comment:

  1. Um, ow. Is there anyone who likes dentists? Hope you're doing better now.