My Dentist Shame
Mugwump's excellent tale reminds me of my own moment of cringe in a dentist's chair.

I had a complicated bit of dental work done in my teens, the result of which means I've got -to all intents and purposes - a dead tooth cemented in my mouth.

After a few years it became complete agony. It turned out that it had become infected, and there were what appeared to be gallons of pus behind the horrible grey thing in my mouth.

I was sent to a very nice middle-aged dentist, who drilled through the dead tooth and slurped all the pus out. This took several appointments, which I rather looked forward to on account of her *cough* enormous bosom, the eighth and ninth wonders of the world, all in a tight lab coat. Geek heaven.

The pain disappeared almost immediatedly, and I lay there in an almost blissful trance, her enormous cleavage pressed against the side of my head.

"How's that feel?" she asked.

Who knows how the male brain works? I was only supposed to nod my head to indicate I was fine. But no. Dr Freud took over.

"Nice," I replied. "Nice tits."

She sent me to have my enamel scraped in the most painful way imaginable. That was my final appointment.

Still, nice tits.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 11:45, 3 replies)

I cackled at that one!
*click*



Couldn't you have blamed the anaesthesia?
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 11:48, closed)

There was no anaesthetic
Because

a) I was AS NAILS

b) no actual living tissue to hurt

c) breasts: nature's anaesthetic
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 11:52, closed)

Double points, then.
1) Blame the anaesthetic.
2) When it's pointed out that there was none, simply reply that you must have hallucinated it under the influence of anaesthesia.


There's no comeback from that.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 11:58, closed)