Just when I think I have the perfect solution, someone comes along and ruins it with talk of the law or morals or some such stupid thing....
I don't really want to shoot Dr. Mengele, my dentist. It's just because I don't want to see Dr. Mengele professionally. I can imagine having pizza with him - that would be fine.. he seems like a good guy. I just don't want to sit in the chair while the good doctor and his assistant Natasha perform all sorts of experiments on my mouth. Experiments like how many times can we poke him with this pointy implement until he screams or hits?
Today it was the shot. I have somehow managed not to cringe too badly or leap from the chair and break into show tunes when he puts the needle in my gums and wiggles it about just for the hell of it. I had a bad feeling about where the needle was going... I remembered a particularly bad time in that location that felt like I was being electrocuted.
Damn my memory.
The guy sticks the needle in, wiggles it satanically, and my eyes went wide. He asked me if I felt a tingle. "In a manner of speaking, yes," I wanted to say, but my mouth was full of needle and fingers. I have been playing with electronics since I was two and am a tremendous klutz, thus I have managed to electrocute myself rather frequently. This felt kinda like when I electrocuted myself, only it was near my jaw.
So he pulled the needle out and I reaffirmed that I had been hit by lightning. He went back at it with the needle but this time the lightning bolt was not as severe. I tried to figure out whether I was lucky or not. He said he hit a nerve. It felt more like a transformer.
I seem to remember this procedure not taking too long (in spite of the fact that it felt like four hours). Turns out I spent about two hours in the chair. I kept wondering what medicine they give to the cowards who are irrationally terrified of dental procedures.... you know.... like me. I would have asked but the moment he said I was done, I made a beeline for the door. I never look back, in case he tries to catch me.
There was a point where I was pretty good with dentists. Then it all went to hell. No idea why. The good doctor seemed pretty confused too. He kept telling me the worst was over so I had no reason to keep trying to escape. The guy obviously doesn't understand terror. And with a name like Mengele.
Then they took turns putting goop in my mouth and waiting to see how long it would take for me to start gagging. Natasha was watching tv and moving about the room with one hand in my mouth. I have no idea why. I was so terrified I couldn't be bothered to look down her uniform (in case you doubt my sincerity).
I didn't like the look on Natasha's face when she pulled the metric ton of gauze out of my mouth. The doctor explained that pretty much all of my terror was for naught, as the tooth broke and they were going to have to do it all over and put in a post.
I don't even want to know what a post is.
And Dr. Mengele always laughs when I come in and am not tremendously happy to see him.
This is apparently why people take showers with their clothes on and hide under tables.