Pure Evil

What I like most about going to the dentist is that they don't require you to tattoo a pentagram on your forehead prior to the sacrificial mutilation.   It's that nice touch that gives you the feeling that you aren't just a number but a part of the cult.  I really appreciate that given that not only do I let them scrape inside my mouth for an eternity but I also get to pay them huge prices for it.

My teeth suck, my gums suck and to help remind me of this there is my dental hygienist.  Oh, she comes off all nice and sweet and thoughtful.  Then she sticks a needle in my gums for the "deep cleaning."  She'll pat my arm, let me know that there is going to just be a small bit of pain, then she jabs hot lava into my cheeks.  I'm assuming that she is only wearing her mask to hide her fangs that she got from Satan.  Or Santa depending if I decide to spell check this or not.

I don't like dentists.  There, I admitted it.  Hossman the great, hero in every story he writes, doesn't like going to the dentist.  I once had a shotgun pointed at my chest, handled it like a pro.  A guy once chased me with a tire iron, I got him the help he needed anyway.  But a dental hygienist?  Makes my blood pressure spike and my fight or flight response kick in so that one day I'm pretty sure I'm going to punch the 110 pound woman cleaning my teeth.  It's going to be some sweet judo move to.  I don't know judo but I'm assuming that God has got my back in this den of evil.

It's not all pain, a lot of times there isn't any pain.  But it's the fingers in the mouth and the weird suction thing.  And why are they talking to me during it?  I mean, I can't really answer any questions.  I can't even nod my head because to do so would cause that little pokey thing to jab right the fuck into my tongue and then Satan (or Santa) can get my soul.

Dentists freak me out and I have no idea why.  Dentists and people singing to me.  Seriously, who the fuck does that.  My ultimate hell is to have my dental hygienist sing to me while cleaning my teeth and making eye contact.  Actually, I'm pretty sure that is going to happen the next time I have to go in as I'm sure they have my psychological profile down now.  Hossman, colossal wuss that is afraid of little women with great singing voices.  Loves eye contact.

I have to go to the dentist all the time too which is just super.  With three kids, it feels like I'm down there enough to open a frequent flyer card.  They know me by name and I'm pretty sure it's not because I'm handsome and can flex.  They know me by name because kids have teeth.  3 kids have a lot of teeth and the blood god demands his sacrifice.

I want to be honest with my kids.

"Is it going to hurt daddy?"


"It is?"

"Pretty sure."

"Do we have to go?"



"Because god hates us."

But I can't be honest, I've got to be brave for the kids.  So I promise them ice cream and pat them on their back.  I reassure them that it's all good and they have nothing to worry about until they turn 40 and realize that all that preventive maintenance they did for the last 35 years meant dick all, then it's going to hurt.

My sister is a dental hygienist.  She went to school for it.  I never asked her what she did in school to learn the trade.  I just assumed at some point there was a ceremony where she had to marry Satan and gut a goat.  It's a shame too because I love my sister and my nieces and nephews, now they are spawns of evil and I must ignore them.  No, I can't do that.  They need the shining light of goodness in their lives to counter the evilness that surrounds them.  On a side note, my sister plays the piano as well as sings because of course she does.  I'm pretty sure that's the acceptance criteria of getting into hygienist school.

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