The Dentist Wants Your Teeth

I have to go to the dentist. They have a sick obsession with my mouth. They bombard me with questions of my brushing and flossing habits. Why do they bother with the customary, “Do you rinse Mr. Brown?” when they can tell with one look, that they will be able to finish their garish tooth necklace tonight.

I’m not fond of the dentist. Not for the reason that most people fear the dentist. I’m not afraid of the pain; for the most part I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. I just sit back, relax my mouth and tighten every other muscle in my body. Normally by the end of the visit, Ive molded the armrest to fit my clenched fists. I’m not saying I enjoy the discomfort, but it isn’t my primary fear. I think they’re twisted. I honestly believe the dentist wants my teeth.

I’m missing a tooth, my top center tooth. I have a tooth mirage, made of resin and dye. I didn’t get a cavity, or have a fist fight. I don’t play contact sports, and it wasn’t pulled on a dare. I went to the dentist with it in, they looked at it and said,

“We need to take it out”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you, but it will cost you”

Having a fake front tooth is not enjoyable. I can't eat anything tougher than oatmeal without removing it. Removing it public is terrifying, because without a doubt someone will want me to talk to them, or smile for the camera. My second day of work at my current job, someone won a free rib lunch from the local country station. Have you ever seen a new guy and knew he wouldn't fit in? So there I am with 1 pork rib and a pile of salad. I'm the only guy trying to cut the ribs with a knife and fork.

I’m dreading my return to “The Chair” I haven’t been since they removed my favorite Central Incisor. Dentists have been angling about getting their latex mitts on my four wisdom teeth for years. Most don’t even try and be underhanded.

“Schedule an appointment after your cleaning to have your wisdom teeth entered into my personal collection. I have a bracelet I’m working on, and those would look great!”

The worst part is, once I get in the chair they use some kind of mind control on me. I find myself thinking, “They know best.” Hopefully they will only take a few this time, I hate the idea of drinking apples thru a straw.