Heart of Dentist Too(th)

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I wake up unhappy, don’t eat and go to the dentist’s office.

Lying in the chair with a fairly attractive Asian probing my
mouth, I think about how I’ve never seen a porno that takes
place in a dentist’s office, probably because no one believes
anything pleasurable happens there.

As the woman works away with hooks and drills I once
again imagine the sewer pipes under the building, draining
the sludge of blood, gum tissue and tooth (fairy) dust to
Hell for sinners to drink.

I get the vibe the pretty Asian might be Interested, but I’m
not. I’m already heartsick and have no idea why it’s
important my teeth be in good order; ideas for suicide don’t
involve anything that leaves ID only by the teeth.

The dentist is a Good Old Florida Cracker. There are fillings
to be done and the syringe has a shiny silver ring for his
thumb. Oh shit.

The needle pierces my gums, pain lighting up the nerves
racing up the length of my jawline. By the 5th time the
needle strikes, I’m used to it, the monstrous pain of the
white hot needle, a cum-squirt of hot Novocain and WHOOF,
the pain vanishes like a match being blown out. The
horrible needle delivers the cure for itself.

As Dr. Cracker finishes with the shots I tell him, “This is why
I could never be a spy.”

Ha ha ha ha.

Fairly Pretty Asian cleans some more. I’m led to another
chair for the fillings.

A White girl, age unknown, wears a cloth mask over her
mouth and a full facial visor over that. Her smock is
brown and neither her tits or ass leap out as extraordinary.
I love her anyway. She sets up the tools of the trade on
the little tray. Hyperactive squirrels outside the window
distract her. Uh oh.

Dr. Cracker joins her when all is ready. Even with the left
half of my face numb, the drill feels like one from a hardware store. My
mind is both keenly focused and racing. I wonder why
there have never been tooth-shaped birthday cakes, why
everything is a disaster to the unhappy mind. A line from
Bukowski: People’s mouths are uglier than their assholes. I
try not to laugh aloud, there are four hands in my mouth
wielding all manner of sharps and I’m drowning in my own
saliva. I wonder if the girl is a dental student. I love her
even though I haven’t seen her face. Is this how poor
Muslim men go through life? Wondering what’s under there?

No wonder they pray to Allah. No, girl, don’t look at the Muslim squirrels holding their nuts, concentrate on this.

She hold a blue light over the filling goo. Beep….beeep.

It is finished.

I sit in the raised chair like the Buddha, the stupid beaded chain with alligator clips holding a blue napkin on my chest. Horrible pain brings a powerful ability to focus. When Dr. Cracker was shooting me with Novocain, I wished he would’ve flipped out and stabbed me in the heart. It would probably be a fine way to die, the heart stopping as if batteries had been removed but instead of cold death, warmth and beautiful numbness.

The bill is $285 for 3 fillings and a partial cleaning. I’m in the wrong line of work and of questionable sanity, as is everyone who visits a dentist of their own free will.

The Dentist has such sights to show you

Went to the dentist for the first time in 7 years.

At one point during the last decade I was near-broke and living in my car. Flossing was the last fucking thing on my mind, though I’ve brushed my teeth twice a day every day for decades and had no problems or pain.

During my recent visit I was prepared to tell anyone wearing a smock, should they scold me for not flossing, to fuck off. This stems from a childhood dental experience where the bitch assistant asked if I flossed. When I replied in the affirmative she said, with deadly tone, “I don’t like liars.”

Fucking cunt.

I don’t hate the dentist like it is claimed most people do. I broke my two front teeth in a bike accident when I was 12, so I’m plenty familiar with dental work. My sole superpower is having no nerves in my two front teeth, which enables me to fearlessly bite into ice cream.

I fear nothing at the dentist’s office but the hair-thin needle they use to inject Novocain in the roof of the mouth, the irony being the worst pain of all is done in the name of numbing the area.

After I established my insurance status with the broads up front (one had a faint mustache) a fat-assed, professionally pleasant blonde led me to the back.

“So, did you eat any candy for Halloween?”

Jesus Christ, am I that unfuckable? Did she see me reading Highlights magazine in the waiting room? (“Goofus doesn’t use his napkin. Gallant slits the throats of squealers for the drug cartels”).

“Aren’t you guys and candy natural enemies?”

The blonde, who looked like a giant blueberry in her dark scrubs, did not laugh but took 15 x-rays. I don’t why the little cards used as a backdrop for firing the x-ray machine have razor-sharp edges, but after all these years they’ve never improved them. Whenever I bit down my eyes watered and I gagged. I’d make a lousy cock-sucking faggot.

The blueberry blonde finished doing her thing and left me waiting in the chair. When she returned with the x-rays I quickly sat up.

“The chairs are uncomfortable, aren’t they?”

“No chair is comfortable with a drill attached to it.”

The dentist was bald and had a strong handshake. His last name sounded like Zabzubab. I liked that, figuring anyone enduring endless roll calls in school with a last name beginning with Z was better at waiting patiently and thus could learn more.

Zabzubab briefly poked around with the tools…wherever the needle-like hook poked my swollen gums pain roared LOUDLY like a stack of stadium amps but with excruciating precision…I enjoyed it. Nothing like the dentist to make you understand the paradox of Pinhead from the Hellraiser flicks. (Who are dentists anyway? “Demons to some. Angels to others”).

Overall the Doc was pleased with my teeth, though of course I have a shitload of plaque…and three “small” cavities. The thing I don’t get about cavities is, the evil bacteria or whatever eats these holes, but they fill them up with an amalgam that the bacteria can’t destroy. Seems like you’d want some starter cavities in order to be made into a better cyborg.

I visit Dr. Zabzubab in a month for the official cleaning and fillings. I asked the girls at the front desk if my new fillings would be cream or chocolate. Mustache-girl quickly answered, “Chocolate!” while the cuter girl just grinned. I have no chance with either.