Mental dental

"I've been very diligent today, so how about we do one right now?", he said smilingly. He had jade green eyes, a red beard, and manly smell, hormones and perfume, beyond the chemicals you'd expect anyway in dentist's practice. The moment he drew closer, he had me dreaming already.

Half mumble, and half joke he looked and the film, looked at me, and, since I've already consented, placed and me on the chair. Before I knew it the injection was done, and strange noises were coming out of my mouth. Also my mouth seemed like this strange place, remote, not mine, like the next room, or the one above, where a family of squatters were moving in, taking over and drilling the floors, walls and ceiling to remove all the wood they could burn.

"Are we courageous today?", he later asked. "Should we do the other one as well?" I blinked. I was high with anesthesias, it was easy to consent. The prospect of lingering for yet another two weeks, when the next free spot would come up, looked totally unappealing to me. Last time I sweat so much in chair it was my first job interview. Also successful.

So now, back to the real world, with a limp face and mouth full of blood, I carry the prey: 2-8 and 3-8 have reluctantly come out. So it's been mental in more ways than one.

Special thanks to Andressa for making me go: "If you don't see your dentist you're gonna have a stinky breath". How helpful is that? Now I have two black threads in my gums. You know, stitching.

Also, for my readers who are wondering what happened to my two angels, the dentist and her assistant, you will be happy to learn they are well, I am still their client, but this was an operation, not an extraction.

That being said I cannot talk, which I find frustrating, but I can write, and boy do I have tone of things to write.