My Dearest Dentist,
I hate you. I hate you and your kind, you bringer of drillings and fillings. Your dental hygienist is more like a thug with a community college degree tacked to a wall, disguising her sadism as educated practice. Your metal instruments in shaky hands cause blistering pain, not only to my poor nerves and bleeding gums, but to my eardrums because of the horrible screeching noise you make.
You evil bastard, you who starts a conversation with me about what I’m doing for the summer while my mouth is under assault by your hellish weapons: the Mirror, the Sucker, and the Death-Pick. How could I move my mouth to answer your question when I am sure that certain doom will follow? I would have to never want to eat meals painlessly again. My gums throb and my mouth is now filled with my own blood. You give me that pathetic little cup to rinse out with, and what comes out of my mouth is not merely water but what appears to be the results of a failed skin graft. You ass.
And you tell me my gums are red and filled with blood because I don’t floss; the blood is busy fighting the plaque that I refuse to take care of nightly with a strand of pure evil wrapped around my fingers. Well if the blood is fighting the plaque, then why do I need to help it by flossing? In fact, why are you releasing it from my mouth? You son of Hitler, allow me to keep what is mine! I shall not floss! Damn you and your propaganda you hand me about proper flossing techniques with pictures of smiling teeth! And your ‘services’ cost so much money, I might as well just take care of my dental hygiene myself. All I’ll need is a rusty nail, a mirror and some Listerine. Maybe I can get some big guy at the gym to punch me in the mouth! Oh dear dentist, I hope you are happy. To spite you I came home and filled my pearly white and blood red mouth with sugary snacks and did not swallow them for a long, long time. Then I drank Mountain Dew without a straw! I laugh heartily that I shall have the final say! And the next time I see you driving around in your Mercedes, take note as I flip you off and smile, oh how the smiling is key, with blood running from my gums and down my chin, representing the blood of a thousand unflossed souls!
One day my countrymen will rise and conquer you, Sir Dentist! In six months, we shall meet again!
Archived article by John Penning