Teeth

Whenever I go to the dentist, they ask me all these questions. I mean, I'm almost positive my favorite color has nothing to do with my teeth. Aaaand that's when I get into arguments with my so called "dentist".

So, here I go. Ready to sit on the cold leather chair and she asks me:

The bungalow where I go to the dentist.

"Does your mouth hurt?"

"Have you been brushing your teeth?"

I was tempted to say: "I don't know, you tell me, dentist."

The dentist then begins their cruel and unusual punishment on my immature and innocent mouth. I could taste blood, so I put my hand up so the evil dentist would stop.

Me, rolling my eyes at the dentist

"I can taste blood." I stated.

"You wouldn't if you flossed more."The Dentist replied.

"No, I wouldn't bleed if you didn't stab me with sharp objects." The Dentist laughed.

"I'm not stabbing you. I'm simply using the sonic flosser."

"So, tell me dear dentist. How do you floss one's teeth with a steak knife? And precisely how long does it take for you to floss one tooth. You see, because you've been flossing the same one for five minutes."

Finally, the torture procedure was over and A Dentist called Thee Dentist over to check out my poor, harshly murdered, hardly breathing mouth. 

"Looks good." Thee Dentist said. 

"Looks good?" I asked. "My mouth looks good to you? Well, I'm no dentist or a torture expert, but I'm pretty sure if your mouth is bleeding, it's not good. In fact, it's bad. My mouth is supposed to feel good when I leave this place called an office. My mouth, as of now, feel as if someone took a club with spikes, put it in my mouth, and moved it around for a good thirty minutes. Good," I stated. "is that." I pointed to an impossible picture of dentures. "Bad is this," I pointed to my mouth. Which, looked like I just ate ketchup, tomatoes, cherrys, and a red popsicle that got all over my face.

Thee End.

Moral of the Story: You're better off being your own dentist.

-For Your Consideration