Dental Work vs. Damnation
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The dentist’s office called yesterday to remind me of my Cleaning scheduled for this morning.
I felt like a cross between a venereal disease and a Toyota.
Being scheduled for a Cleaning is far more serious than being scheduled for a mere Tune-Up, because of the many moral issues that are also at stake.
It’s so good of my dentist to employ these altar-(phone)calls for filthy reprobates like me.
Otherwise I may have spent the entire day chewing sticky candy and ice cubes instead, and have you read the news lately? Poor dental hygiene is now associated with everything from heart disease to Altzheimer’s. Plus, if you don’t floss, you are pretty definitely going to Hell.
But today? Verily I have been Cleaned, washed in the blood of flouride. They fumigated the Hell right out of me too, thank God, with a microbial gum wash that tasted, appropriately, like insect repellent — about a 97-proof DEET with just a hint of mint at the finish.
There was the Requisite Sermon on Flossing, my appropriate semi-annual dosing of guilt, followed by the deep, soul-cleansing pain of gouging and scraping.
Finally, I met with a spiritual counselor to go over my Personalized Treatment Plan which over the next two months will cost me approximately $50,000.
Have I mentioned here lately, at all, that I need a job?
