969. What My Days Look Like

She maneuvered a sharp metal object mere millimeters from my eyes.  I tried desperately not to flinch while silently begging Please don’t stab me.  I would have begged out loud, but she had both her hands in my mouth. 

Now she was rambling on about her son playing lacrosse.  “He’s really good,” she said, “he might qualify for a scholarship.” 

She scraped the edge of my tooth and I tried to move my tongue out of the way.   
“Do your sons play sports?” she inquired. 

Why do they always do this?  How am I supposed to answer with the little round mirror jammed inside my cheek and that silver gougey-thing bobbing about?   

“Uhhr-hrr,” I grunted. 

“They do?  That’s great.  Which sport?” 

I closed my eyes tight and pretended that I was a narcoleptic.  It’s not that I didn’t want to say “regional soccer,” it’s just that I would most likely swallow the suction tube if I attempted to answer.  Also, she kept spinning that steel pick around like she was in a dental baton twirling competition. 

Just then, Dr. Beyond Gorgeous walked in the room.  He is so dreamy.  Think George Clooney’s unknown and much better-looking younger brother.  Mmmmmmmmm. 

“How are you, MOV?” 

He grinned wide, like an ad for toothpaste.  His teeth glistened like the light of 32 flawless diamonds on a snowy peak at high noon.  I was temporarily blinded.  He waited for Kathy to finish, and then he started examining my mouth. 

“Okay, then, try to lay off the sugar.  I notice a few areas that could develop into cavities if we’re not careful.” 

I liked how he said “We,” like we were a team.  Team Anti-Decay.  Kathy winked at me, as if to say, And you will make my job a lot easier too if I don’t have to scrape so much. 

I made a quick stop on the way home.  As I purchased my treat, I thought, Well, at least Kathy gets to keep her job this way. 

 

MOV
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trifecta writing challenge:  333 words, key word is "light"; I wrote this piece a few days ago and have made minor modifications to fit the challenge