My dentist
My dentist is a biscuit tin. Sometimes when I need to see him, I march into my kitchen and knock three times on the biscuit-tin lid and wait for the response. "Yes?" I hear back after a short pause.

"I'd like to make an appointment mr biscuit-tin dentist" I politely reply.
Now, some of you may know, in my kitchen the biscuit tin is situated next to the toaster. This is a fun little fact I like to mention from time to time but it is irrelevent here.

So once my appointment has been made, I write out a little slip and post it gently inside the tin and take a seat in the waiting room, which doubles as my wardrobe.

After sitting hunched up in my wardrobe for 20 minutes, I crawl out and impatiently trot downstairs and march back into my kitchen to angrily confront the biscuit tin about the length of my wait. "I've been in your crappy waiting room for twenty pissing minutes, when can I expect to see the dentist". No reply.

This is unaccaptable so I make my mind up there and then and decide to go to another dentists. A BETTER dentists. "yeah a BETTER fucking dentist" I shout right into the biscuit tin, opening the lid and screaming inside so my anger vibrates inside of it.

Now, I'm a bit screwed here as the next nearest dentist is my bog brush which is upstairs in the bathroom. I think long and hard about this and eventually decide I can't be arsed so I admit defeat and go and sit back down in the waiting room. It is only on the way to the waiting room that I realise I have passed the other dentists on the way.

"Oh well" I thought "maybe next time...... maybe next time.............."
(Andrew Avetoom, Mon 6 Nov 2006, 19:49, Reply)