A Visit to the Dentist

Such a wonderful day. The alarm at my bedside fires off with a blare. I feel as enthusiastic and energetic as I always do at 6 o'clock in the morning. Reluctantly, I put my bemused feet on the floor. My feet, like the rest of my body, do not understand why night time can't be twice as long as day time for those of us who need more sleep to cope with this wacky world. Then I remember that this is no ordinary morning. This is dentist morning! Indeed, I must get up and become psychologically prepared for what I am about to endure.

Upon arrival, I was placed in that fabulous electric chair and tilted all the way back. In walks the dentist, all smiles.

“Hello there! Are you ready, it won't take long at all! Now let's see, how about a little laughing gas to get us started?”

Then the fun begins. I took in lots of deep breaths because I wanted to get as happy as I possibly could before the Needle came my way.

“Ok, let's paint your gums with a little medicine.”

Then next comes the dreaded: “Just a little stick!” Oh right, more like just a little searing pain as I thrust this hideous, razor sharp sword into your gums....

“Now think of something pleasant,” quipped the dentist.

I wanted to quickly think of anything besides the cold steel in my mouth and the long needle that I imagine is protruding from the other side of my face. Okay....I'm thinking...I am …. I am....I am driving a silver Mercedes...I think it might be Diane Keaton's car, or maybe Cher's. It's fully equipped, and with a sun roof of course, and my cat, Simon. Simon is sitting in the passenger seat not acting like a cat at all. We are driving somewhere beautiful, tropical, I think it may be Bermuda. We are coasting along a long, winding road by the beach. I feel marvelous (there is no needle in my jaw, no sir there isn't!) We drive inhaling the wonderful salty smell of the ocean (not the fish, just the ocean). I can see the white sand glistening on the face of the beach, lots of palm trees sifting through the quite breeze. I remember that I am suddenly very wealthy, and I will never have to work again, or call up the jerks in Information Technology to try to fix my computer, or listen to inflated stories in the break room...or people whining about their bosses on the bus. I won't have to deal with Miss Tabitha K. Euless in her shiny leather shoes and her Baylor education or Miss Kim Parson, SMU graduate who copies my reports and correspondence. Little old me and my state university education...really why bother? Nope, I think I will just stay on this island with Madonna's car...it's ideal, and no more sinus problems....