My dentist is some sort of sorcerer. I know he is and I'm one cavity away from proving it. Let's take the obvious clues: his office has no windows. Anywhere. Even the front door is a solid door. He always wears dark clothes. His name is Igor Viktor Zaplanski. He's from Transylvania. Nobody has ever seen him away from his office. If you seem about to ask a personal question, he crams his fingers in your mouth and pretends to poke around. He says he's checking for gum disease, but seriously. He hums strange old tunes and sometimes speaks under his breath--I'm sure they're spells. He wears weird leather shoes with laces.
My mother doesn't believe me and refuses to engage me in my "wild speculation". I intend to prove that Dr. Zaplanski is a sorcerer, and my next dental cleaning will be my chance.
(**Side note: the topic was inspired by the post number being "dentist time". Two-thirty. Twoooo-thhh-hirty. Get it? Har!**)
No comments:
Post a Comment