It is my firmest belief that on this tiny, miserable, barren rock of a world there are 3 kinds of people. There are the have-mores, the have-nots, and the dental hygienists. Since the reaffirmed president Bush has already expressed at great and clumsy length, and with overly complex and stupidly appalling metaphors and puns, the essential qualities of the have-mores and have-nots, I thought it would be best that I would tell you all about dental hygienists. I figure I have plenty of experience in the field, as I have been waging an open war with mine over the past several years, leaving me a hardened, leathery husk of a man.
Dental hygienists were created back in the old Time by the Ancients to reap the souls of the innocent for the great Destroyers to consume. It is odd that they are so different from dentists, who are generally very nice, and don't go around cutting your gums for no Goddamned reason. Hygienists are almost always single moms with short hair, about 62% of them are vegetarians, and 2% of them are vampires. However, as diverse as they all may be, they have a single, unifying goal: To wreak havoc and let loose the dogs of war in peoples' mouths.
Many dental hygienists lost their virginity in the back of an old Camaro, they average 140 pounds, their hearts are made of an element called Evolonium with a half-life of approximately 50 years, and they were all taught how to look after their patients by Josef Mengele.
Maybe I'm just bitter due to the experiences I've had to deal with from my own dental hygienist... so for the sake of amusing bias, I present to you a more or less an anecdote barely related to the original subject matter.
I do not know her name... I have never bothered to ask it. And, I am sure she has never found reason to tell me. To the people of the West she is known as the great Destroyer. To those of the East, she is called simply 'Pain'. To the Ranyhyn of the Thome Mountains to the barren south, she is called 'Ringthane the Despiser'. She has short blond hair, blue surgical eyes, and a piercing, hideous grin as though it were made of a million Transformers guns lying all over a long-haired and seemingly innocent carpet. The HORROR!
For as long as I can remember, she and I have been vicious adversaries. The first time she penetrated my soft, warm, inviting cake-hole, I was horrified by the ferocity of her attack. She left me alone and bleeding, cursing the moonlight and crying to let out the immeasurable pain. Dr. Scemmel would come in after the oral rape and comfort me, probing me gently with his sensitive, yet firm fingers imbued with years of experience. But he could only ease my pain temporarily. In 6 months... it would happen again, and again, and again. And so the battle of wits began.
I will confess that I am not a brave man, nor am I daring. I do not prank, but I will argue... and lie if I have to. If anything, I'm the Cobra Commander, as opposed to say... Destro. Last check up (6 months ago) I likened her to the Khmer Rouge, but that merely intensified her probing. The time before that, I didn't brush at all for three days before the check up. Of course the usual repartee was included to taunt and possibly deflate her powerful ego, but it was all for naught. So this time I figured that greater action was to be taken against this great enemy. I brought into play the Chocolate-Chocolate muffin.
The Chocolate-Chocolate muffin is the chocolatiest food on earth... and possibly the Universe. Within its dark chocolate meat lay chocolate chips a-plenty, making for a delight that could, in the wrong hands, butcher a diabetic. Well, so could a serrated bread knife, but that's beside the point and in my next article. The point remains: When muffins are chewed, they tend to create a thick, gooey, sticky substance which gets in all the cracks of your teeth and clings to the roof of your mouth. I was about to cake this cake hole, with what I hoped would be infuriated results.
The muffin was easy enough to acquire, as there was a small coffee/pastry racket in the lobby of the office. I headed up to the 5th floor in the elevator with a determined look of optimistic insanity in my beaming, crazed eyes. The muffin! Ha-ha! THE MUFFIN!
Upon reaching my floor, I stepped out of the elevator, turned left, left again, and then walked to the end of the hall. There it was, the portal barring me from delicious revenge. I opened it and stepped inside.
I stepped into chaos.
Apparently they had hired a new secretary, who had her own way of doing things, and that way was procrastinating until the last minute, conceding, then giving her employer lip. I entered the room to see my dentist arguing half-heartedly with the lady, trying desperately to get her to deposit some checks that were due.
"Look... I thought I told you I want you to deposit them today so that it's done."
"But they aren't due for another 12 days! I'm going to be heading down there in 10 anyways so I can do it then with plenty of time..."
"Look, I want them deposited now, alright?"
"I'm very busy with some calls; I'll get back to you."
I told her I was there for an appointment, she waved me to a seat, and I sat, catching up on several months of Sociology homework I should have been doing as it came to me but didn't. Marx sucks.
The Horror from the Unfathomable Deep appeared, lurking, lurching, leering and lip-synching towards me. The boney face was death, and I prepared. I stuck the muffin in my jacket pocket and went in. She told me to take a seat, and put on some shades to protect my eyes from the observation lamp while she went to check on a few things... probably the Cambodians in the other room. While she was gone, I moved the muffin into play, but that's when it went all awry. A rye? There's a pun in there somewhere.
I didn't have time to chew the muffin; The Harbinger of Fluoride came back too soon. So there I was, sitting in this dentist chair, shades on, coat on, and a whole muffin crammed into my imminently violated mouth.
"Have you been flossing thoroughly like I told you to do? You know, it's very important." I nodded silently, trying my best to keep my mouth shut.
"Have you been brushing along the gum line? I know you tend not to do that... that's why the gums bleed you know, because you don't brush along the gum line." I wanted to scream in her face that the reason my gums bleed is because she eviscerates them with pointy bits of metal... but I refrained. Finally, she told me to turn my head towards her and open my mouth wide. I did.
There were a few short moments of just utter incomprehension. You know when a little kid runs into a pole really hard then gets up and walks around dazed for a while? There are those few seconds where he seems just fine and all the parents gasp in absolute horror because they know any second what just happened is going to hit the kid's consciousness like a sack of bricks. It was like that, except instead of bricks, it was a chocolate-chocolate muffin. The hygienist got up, looked around a bit, laughed quietly to herself, then asked if that was a muffin in my mouth.
I said "yes" and choked on it. Foiled by my own muffin! I leapt out of the chair and ran to the waiting room where I could eat the moistening, gagging muffin in relative peace. Getting it down, I returned to the dentist chair and took my previous position. 'She' was still standing there. We shared several moments of intense disinterest, and then went about the usual routine.
I have to confess, I was disappointed with the outcome of the muffin caper. The reaction was minimal, and in the end my mouth was horribly decimated as usual by my 40-something adversary. However, I have not given up hope to be rid of her and her kind forever.
The war rages on my friends. Think of this as another Operation Market Garden. The battle is lost, but the war rages on.
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