The Dentist

The Dentist

I spent all of last week at the dentist. (At least it seemed like all of last week.) My dental hygienist likes to talk while she’s grinding and scraping:

“I’m going to buy a helicopter, Dan. Do you know the best place to get helicopter lessons?”

“Hrumph!” I replied. “Probably Houston,” I thought.

“I think Los Angeles is best. Did you know that a helicopter is not much more expensive than a Ferrari?” Zarah reached for a nearby jack hammer.

“Arghh!” I replied. “A Ferrari?” I thought.

“By the way, did you eat before you came? You won’t be able to eat or drink for several hours after this is done.”

“What are you going to do if I say ‘no’?” I thought. “Is that a rip saw?”

“Do you know anyone who wants to buy a castle?”

“A castle?”

“Only 13,000,000 Francs.”

“If only I’d known. I bought one yesterday. What are doing with that chisel?”

“You can rinse out now.”

“No I can’t,” I thought. “My mouth is numb. The rinse dribbles out.”

“Do you think it makes sense to invest in thoroughbred race horses in this economic climate?”

“I wonder how much this treatment is going to cost.”