Friday, February 17, 2012

My Day at the Dentist

So, I was in a lesbian chat room the other day when the topic of gas prices came into play. But, since I didn’t want to talk about that boring stuff, I changed the topic to stuff about me and my problems with babies and how fuckin’ lazy they are. Get a fuckin’ job! Bah, I’m gonna get riled up again. I should change the subject. Hmmm…

Oh, yeah! I had a dentist appointment yesterday.

Anyway, so I had known about the dentist appointment was looming, mostly due to the fact that I kept canceling the appointment, but I knew it was coming nonetheless. However, this time I aimed to mentally and physically prepare myself for the insidious engagement.

Every time I go to the dentist, I get peppered with the same questions: Have you been flossing? Have you been brushing after every meal? Have you been eating poop? And, time after time I am forced to admit defeat as I repeatedly answer “no”… then “yes.”

This time I wanted it to be different. Months in advance of the appointment, I began violently brushing multiple times a day. Veins protruded from my forearm due to the force of my rapid brush strokes. I even started flossing… every night. Prepping my gums so that they would not hemorrhage when the dentist sadistically attacked them with that razor wire they call “floss.” When they got to that point where not a speck of blood would show, I moved onward to more aggressive techniques. This dentist wasn’t going to best me this time. I began bringing a bottle of toothpaste to work every day to snack on. Every night before I went to bed, I would floss my teeth with a machete. I would have to alternate toothbrushes after every use. It was brutal but necessary.

Finally, 3 postponements later the day had final arrived. I confidently loosened my tie and strutted into the dentist’s office, shattering the glass door as I slammed it behind me. 1… 2… 3   rings on the desk bell later, I heard her footsteps growing louder as she approached. Come at me bro! I screamed in my head. You can’t hurt me anymore!

Then she rounded the corner, and I froze. It was a different dentist, one that I had not had before. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead, but then I quickly wiped it away. What are you so afraid of, Chiz? You prepared yourself for this. This bitch ain’t got nothing on you. And my ghetto subconscious was right. I should be glad that this frail looking lady was about to clean my teeth. I was disappointed that my physical training would go to waste, but looked forward to a peaceful cleaning.

She ushered me into the dentist chair. I think it may have been the first time I was calm in the office. Then suddenly, as if someone flipped a ‘fuck you’ switch, the chair flung back and violently clanged into its reclined state. The dentist dug her nails into my chin fat and pried my mouth open. “Open your whore mouth!” she cackled, and all I could do was helplessly obey. She reached back and grabbed a crooked shank and stabbed it into my gums. Come on, Chiz! This is what you’ve been training for! But it was no use, the shank sawed into my gums and blood began spouting out. She repeatedly sheered away at my teeth with both hands as I gripped the chair trying to relieve the pain. Prodding at a molar, “You’ve got a cavity,” the harpy screeched.

“But, I feel nothing,” I replied. Upon hearing that she pulled out a mallet and forced the shank into my tooth as I let out a scream.

“You do now,” she maniacally laughed. Then, she threw the tools over her shoulder. I sighed in relief. It’s finally over, I thought to myself. That was before I noticed the barbed wire in her hand. She wedged the wire between my teeth and began sawing. I could feel the blood trickling down my chin. This went on for about 20 minutes.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally let me up from the chair. Battered and bruise I made my way over to the front desk where she proceeded to arrange another appoint for the following month. She handed the card to me with a taunting smile. “Have a good night,” the witch said as she hovered back into the office.

I was bested that day.


  1. Arg.

    I was recently at the dentist too, but my biggest problem was boredom.

    You should carry little spring-loaded bear-traps, so if you get a mean dentist you can slip one in your mouth when their back is turned.

    I can't see any problems with that idea.

    1. That sounds like an incredible idea. I'll probably skip on the idea when I go to get my cavity filled because the boss dude is an ex-NFL player. But, when I go for another cleaning, you can bet your ass I'm constructing one of those traps.

  2. This is why I love going to the dentist, always so much drama. The bear trap idea is a must! :)

    Universal Gibberish

    1. Hey, it gives me something to write about when I suffer from writer's block so it can't be too bad.

  3. Seeing the title of this post made me almost not read it. Could of written my day in front of the firing squad and gotten the same response...terrifying. It is good to see you survived despite the witch with the barb wire.

    I found you via A to Z. Looking forward to reading more.

    1. Yeah, It was a close call. Life was escaping pretty quick. Luckily the procedure ended when it did. And, thanks for joining my blog! I checked out your blogs, and they are all great!

  4. I like when you say "bested" it makes me happy.

    And there is no preparing for dentist visits. I mean, I'm just sayin' and all, but I'm pretty sure you've got to have a pinch of sociopath-ology in you to go that career route.

    1. Dentists do have the highest suicide rate.