"Twist & Shout"

Hello. My name is Harold Green. This old lady with her mouth spread as far as it'll go is Mrs. Steinberg. The young lady standing at my door is Shannon. Neither of them likes me. Matter of fact no one does. 

I am a dentist.

Did you know that we are over six and a half times more likely to kill ourselves more than any other occupation? Even the Marines. I used to sit in class during college and wonder why the statistics were so high. The pay is great. I work early and get home early. I help save peoples lives every single day. Did you know that men with gum disease are 50% more likely to suffer from heart disease? It's true. Yet everyday I go home and suck on my pistol, waiting for the day I have balls big enough to pull the trigger.

Mrs. Steinberg visits my office about three times a week. Whenever I see her I know that she is having trouble with her marriage. I have removed and replaced all of her teeth eight times in the past six years.

"I know Ted is cheating on me!" she shouts as I place cotton balls into her bleeding gums. I have learned to translate the muffled sounds of my patients so that even though I understood her it sounded more like "Wahohedideatinonee!" I just nod politely and continue extracting perfectly fine teeth from her mouth. Once I told her that it was not healthy to continue pulling and placing teeth from her. She threatened to commit suicide. I can't have that on my conscious. Bad enough I am likely to kill myself. I don't want "assisted suicide" on my list when I die.

"He came home reeking of perfume yesterday!" she mumbles as I try and soak up as much blood as possible. I told her once that it made sense seeing as how he actually sold perfume for a living. She called me a liar, scum, and possibly a cheater for defending him. Ever since then I just do my job and try not to give her any advice. Who am I to give anyone advice? My marriage has been the longest running gag since the platypus. "I just want him to find me beautiful again! Is that too much to ask?"

Mrs. Steinberg is 76. Her husband Ted is 83. The fact that he is still alive is a miracle. If he could actually get his privates working long enough to cheat that would be one of the greatest achievements in American history. Not that I condone cheating, but if you knew what Mrs. Steinberg looked like you'd give Ted a medal of honor for putting up with her for the past 60 years.

After gassing Mrs. Steinberg I sat on my sink and lit a cigarette. I don't smoke. I just love the way it smells. The young lady I mentioned earlier, Shannon, is my receptionist. She replaced my last one Lindsey a few months ago. I came in early one morning and found out she was stealing equipment from my office. Nothing big. Just cotton balls, swabs, and nitrous oxide. Well, the nitrous was kind of a big deal.

Shannon doesn't steal. She is just mean. She hit on me a few days after she was hired. I let her know that the feeling was not mutual and she has been an evil bitch ever since. The reason I bring her up again is because she hates my cigarettes. Patients that haven't smoked in years leave my office wanting one for reasons they do not understand. I also mention Shannon because she is standing at my door and scowling.

"Your other appointment, Mr. Stems, is here. Early as usual" Shannon said before fanning the smoke and slamming the door shut. Good old Mr. Stems. He comes every three months for a cleaning and check up. His teeth are always perfect. He has the kind of teeth that you would put in a dental periodical. You would show his teeth to children and tell them that this is what they should aspire to be.

The only problem I have with him is that he touches himself. A lot. Even when I had to gas him for some slight surgery four years ago he managed to unzip his pants and pull his penis out. When he awoke with it hanging out he just chuckled and placed it back into his pants as if nothing had happened.

"You know what, Mrs. Steinberg?" I said to her as she lay with her mouth wide open and her eyes half closed. "I think the real reason people hate dentist is because they are insecure. Even if their teeth look perfect, there is always a cavity hiding somewhere. A cap that needs replacing. Veneers that don't quite match the rest of their teeth. We point out your flaws and attempt to fix them. It would be like meeting an attractive woman at a bar that walked all the way from the bathroom, across the dance floor, and up to you with toilet paper hanging from her skirt." I picked up the cigarette and considered actually inhaling for a moment before placing it back on the windowsill.

"No matter how perfect you think you are" I said. "There is always something to fix."

Before Mr. Stems leaves the office we shake hands. I place a small amount of gum numbing gel on my gloved hands. I love this stuff. It is tasteless and odorless. I pray that he touches himself in the car on the way home. Three times. In a half hour he touched himself three damned times.

I sit down once he is gone and looked at my reflection in the over-sized magnifying glass. It makes even the most attractive woman look like a Ninja Turtle. Shannon barges in with a red stain on the front of her skirt. She looks upset. Shocking.

"Mrs. Ting is here with her son, Donovan" she blurts before sniffing the air and slamming the door shut. I don't throw the word "hate" around very often. So when I say it I mean it. I hate Mrs. Ting's son, Donovan. He is 4 years old and whenever I feel that urge to have a kid I just think of him. Specifically his teeth. Not to sound racist but the Asians that visit my office tend to have horrible teeth. I don't know what it is. In my class I was the only Caucasian in a class of 33 Asian students. None of it makes sense to me.

"Send them in" I tell the closed door. Immediately I hear the sounds of screaming. Mrs. Ting drags Donovan into the room by his feet. "How are you today?" I ask. Mrs. Ting just gives me a stare that would make Satan flinch and Jesus weep.

"Just do it!" she shouts. Donovan is scheduled to have an abscessed tooth removed. He screams and hollers at the top of his lungs. I just stand and watch him. I don't coddle my young patients. If they don't care about their teeth then why should I? When I first started this practice I never thought I would feel this way. But after years of seeing the same rotten mouths that lie to my face about how they will take care of their teeth I just don't care anymore.

After a few more minutes of this act Donovan finally sits in the chair and crosses his arms. I swear if he were older I would punch him in the face. I inject Novocain into his mouth and wait for the drooling to start. I get the suction ready and get to work. The entire time he kicks me in the shins. I look at his mother to see if she plans on doing anything about this. She just smiles and nods.

Bitch.

After twenty-five minutes I am done and my shins feel raw. I'll have to remember to check them for bleeding later. But before I am done I make sure to jab his cheek with my scalpel. He won't feel it now but later tonight he will scream. This time for real.

Donovan begins to scream for a lollipop. I just laugh and pat him on the head. Giving a child a piece of candy after dental surgery would be like celebrating a year's sobriety by going to happy hour. Mrs. Ting flashes me a dirty look and I smile. I still don't understand why she continues to come to my office. There are at least 33 other fine Asian dentists she could frequent. Shannon comes into the office just as I sit.

"Your wife called" she says before sniffing the air and slamming the door shut. I give her the finger as I close my eyes and imagine what my life would have been like if I had pursued my dream of being a fireman. Those guys get more ass than a public restroom. Yeah, they could die every time they go to work but I feel that's a fair trade. Did you know that horse dentistry is one of the world's most dangerous jobs? It's true. No, I am not a horse dentist. Though some of my patients resemble our fine equestrian friends.

I reach for my cell phone and contemplate calling my wife. I used to love Roxy. She was great when we first met. Then one day she thought I was cheating on her with her best friend. Her friend, Rhonda, was a mammoth of a woman. She was nice and funny. But I would never sleep with her. Literally. I wouldn't even sleep with her for fear of being eaten alive. But Roxy caught us playing Bingo one night and went berserk.

Bingo was our "special" game and since she hadn't played it with me for months I saw nothing wrong in playing it with Rhonda. Roxy didn't have sex with me for a month afterward.

I placed my cell phone back into my pocket and take a hit of the nitrous oxide. No matter how low I feel this always cheers me up.

Did you know that nitrous oxide contains 70% N2O to 30% oxygen? It isn't even pure nitrous. I'm sure that upset Lindsey when she was on her stealing spree. It gets a little bit harder to get the same lift from this stuff as it once did. That in turn makes me sad which makes me use it even more. It's like a pathetic circle of life. Shannon bursts into the room once again holding a brown bag.

"Your wife just called again and wonders why you haven't called her" she says before slamming the door. She actually opens it once again, sniffs the air, and slams it shut. "And Miss Stevens is here!" I hear her shout through the door. I pull the mask off and throw my cell phone into the garbage. I make a mental note to retrieve it before the cleaning crew arrives.

"'Some tortures are physical and some are mental, but the one that is both is dental.' Fuck you, Ogden Nash."

I haven't hated the truth so much since I found out that I wasn't really half Black.

Miss Stevens reminds me of my mother. Sometimes I am not sure of that's a good or bad thing. She is always polite and sends me cards on Christmas. But, my God, she passes gas almost constantly. I try not to ever have to gas her because a few times I swear she messed herself it was so bad. Still, she is a sweet old thing.

"My son John called me last week" she says as she has a seat. "It's the first time he's called in three years!" Her son John is a prick. If I ever met him I am sure that I would beat him within an inch of his life. "He asked for a bit of cash to get him through the month."

Her son John sounds like a drug addict. Likely meth. I stopped asking her why she still wants to keep in contact with such an asshole of a child. It makes her cry. Whenever I start to think about having a kid I think of Donovan and then John.

After I am done with Miss Stevens I walk out into the waiting room to check my schedule for the day. I see that Mr. Richard Rossmore is scheduled to arrive at 2pm. Fuck. I loathe that jerk. You know the type. Always on the cell phone talking loud. Sighing heavily behind you in line at the grocery store. Beating their wives when they get home. He actually gets mad when I ask him to get off the phone during procedures.

Shannon has already left for lunch. I walk around the front desk and sniff her seat. Yeah, I know its gross. Yeah, I know I'm a pervert. But Shannon's health could make or break my practice. Did you know that 1 in 10 women have chlamydia and 75% of them show no symptoms? It's true.

After I am satisfied that Shannon is not turning my office into a bacteria factory I head outside to grab a bite to eat before Mr. Richard Rossmore arrives. I hate going to lunch here. Everyone in this damned office building has friends. Well, not everyone. It appears I am the exception to the rule. Since I am a dentist they don't want to see me when they need to let alone when they have a choice. I head over to the taco stand and grab a huge beef and cheese burrito. It taste like crap but at least the girl that works there speaks to me. Her name is Maria and she has great teeth.

"Buenos dias, senor!" she says as I shove half the burrito into my mouth. I nod to her and smile as cheese drips down my chin. She smiles and wipes it away with a napkin. In fantasy world she uses her finger and licks it clean. Then we head back to my office and have sex on Shannon's desk until she walks in and joins in. In the real world Maria just throws the napkin in the garbage and says "Muy guapo!" before laughing. I make a mental note to find out what "guapo" means. Maria looks hot. She'd never be into a guy like me. 

Ah, the circle continues.

As I arrive back at my office for some happy gas I see Mr. Richard Rossmore already waiting for me. He's half an hour early and shouting into his cell phone. Did you know that a doctor in New Zealand says that there is a connection between extended cell phone use and accelerated aging, enhanced cell death, cancer, bad moods, depression, suicide, anger, rage, your melatonin and serotonin levels? It's true. Mr. Richard Rossmore is a prime example of about three of those things. Oh, right. Have to get my cell phone from the garbage.

"Can we speed this up, doc?" Mr. Richard Rossmore asks. I say ask even though its actually a demand. Whenever he comes in for some work that requires any form of numbing I make sure to use less than half of the recommended amount. I think he likes it. I picture his house having a special room with leather, spikes, and swings made for sexual positions that I can only dream of. "I got things to do."

"Of course, Mr. Richard Rossmore" I say through my teeth. I open the door and Shannon is already back from lunch. She gives me a look that says "I know you sniffed my seat." It's the same as her "You're still alive?" look. If she knew that I found the look attractive she would probably smile more.

"Stop eye fucking your secretary and let's get going" Mr. Richard Rossmore says. I nod and lead him into my office. After placing a bib on his chest I get to work.

"Claudia Wallis once said 'Tooth decay was a perennial national problem that meant a mouthful of silver for patients, and for dentists a pocketful of gold.'" I always feel clever when I quote people.

"'Dentist: a prestidigitation who, putting metal into your mouth, pulls coin out of your pocket.' That's Ambrose Bierce." Mr. Richard Rossmore says.

Fuck.

I feel good after Mr. Richard Rossmore leaves. Turns out he has three cavities. I am not happy that I will be seeing him again soon. I am happy that I get to take three of his teeth out. Before he leaves I tell him that cell phone use may contribute to tooth decay. He tells me to go fuck myself. That last fact wasn't true. Well, either of them. Cell phones do not contribute to tooth decay and I will not fuck myself later.

Shannon opens my office door and sniffs the air. I motion for her to have a seat in my chair. She looks at me suspiciously. I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to have sex with Shannon. She obviously works out. Her ass looks great. My wife Roxy used to have a great ass. But that was almost 14 years ago.

"Let me check out your mouth" I tell Shannon. She just stands in the doorway and stares at me.

"Why?" she asks. "My teeth are perfect."

"No ones teeth are perfect" I tell her. "Mr. Richard Rossmore just found out he has three cavities."

"Bullshit" Shannon says with a flash of fear in her eyes.

"Seriously" I tell her. "Three."

"Okay" she says while entering the office. "Just don't try and touch me."

"What do you mean?" I ask. I know what she means. I just didn't know that my perverse behavior was so obvious. I make a mental note to find out who else may think I am a pervert.

"I see the way you look at me" Shannon says rather cockily. Her confidence arouses me so I close my white coat.

"Sounds like you're accusing me of sexual harassment" I tell her with an eyebrow raised. "I hope this isn't the case."

"Of course not" she says. "You wouldn't even begin to know how to harass a woman."

"Excuse me" I say. What the fuck does she know about me? She was the one that wanted a piece of me. I was the one that turned her down.

"You're just silly" she says. "Like, we see you look at women but you never make a move."

"'Silly'?" I ask her. And what does she mean "We"?

"Yeah" she says. "We see you looking at us and just drooling." She pauses to laugh. "We even saw you with that Mexican woman down at the burrito cart. It was cute."

Bitch.

I had no idea that these bastards were watching my every move. I make a mental note to start walking with my head held high and make back straightened.

The last thing I need in my life right now is a gaggle of witches watching me with Maria and laughing. Now I regret having Shannon sit down. While she had her mouth open I was going to stick my tongue in it. Now I wanted to stick something else. There was someone knocking at the door all of a sudden.

"Are there any more appointments?" I ask Shannon.

"Not until 3:30" she says. "And Mrs. Richter never arrives early." Shannon gets up and walks out of the office and answers the door. "Dr. Green someone is here to see you!" Shannon shouts rather cheerfully. Must be my wife.

I dick around my office for a few moments giving the illusion that I am busy and just seconds before I wasn't planning on skull fucking my secretary. I walk into the waiting room and see Maria standing there.

"Oh, hello" I say. This is me pleasantly surprised. That fantasy I had earlier doesn't look so far-fetched now. "What brings you here?" I wish Shannon would leave and not just sit there grinning like an idiot at me.

"You forgot this" Maria says as she hands me thirty-five cents in change. My penis goes back into my body so fast it hurts.

"Uh, thanks" I mumble. Maria flashes that smile and waves. Then she is gone. Shannon sits and smiles at me. I wish she would scowl.

"So what's wrong with her teeth?" Shannon asks.

"Nothing" I say. "Her teeth are perfect. You on the other hand have a wisdom tooth that needs removing."

Shannon has been giving me the stink eye. She asked a question and I gave her an answer. Her wisdom tooth does need to be removed. Did you know that that extracting asymptomatic, disease-free wisdom teeth is not advisable due to the risk of damage to the inferior alveolar nerve? It's true. It pretty much means that I, your dentist, could damage the nerves in your tongue causing numbness. That would surely ruin Shannon's social life, I'm sure.

Mrs. Richter no shows and I make a mental note to call her insurance company and let them know that I cleared my schedule for her appointment. She'll be charged. I don't feel bad about it. She knows the rules.

There is about half an hour left until I go home. I consider finding Maria and inviting her to dinner. Yes, I know I am married. My gaudy wedding ring is there to remind me everyday of my sad, little life. I go into the waiting room and have a seat. Shannon eyes me and rolls her eyes.

"What are your plans for the evening?” I ask her. I don't really care. I just hate silence. She lifts up a magazine and clears her throat. Just when I am about to let her know that acute tonsillitis can be caused by tooth infections she slams her magazine down and looks at me.

"Why didn't you want to go out with me when I first started working here?" she asks.

There is nothing like insecure women. Yeah, I am one of the most insecure men alive. But even the most insecure man is twice as confident as the most secure woman. This had obviously been bothering her. Maybe seeing my reaction to the beautiful Maria spawned this awkward moment. I let the question hang in the air like a fart in church before answering.

"Because..." I say while cleaning my nails with the edge of a pamphlet sitting nearby.

"Don't say its because you're married" Shannon says. "I already know that you would fuck that burrito bitch in a heartbeat if she asked you to." Did she just say "burrito bitch"?

"Well, I am too old for you for one" I say.

"How old do you think I am?" she asks. Click. This is what's called a loaded question.

"Twenty-seven?" I guess.

Bang!

Shannon gives me a look that would peel paint and grabs her coat. I hear her punch out as she runs past me and slams the door shut. Now I am curious. How old is she anyway? I go into my back office and look for her application. Oh, my. No wonder she got upset. She's only 21. Poor thing. She looks 30. I was just being polite. I go into my office and turn on the happy gas. I take a big whiff and lean back. How did the cavemen survive without this stuff?

I grab my cell phone from the garbage and see that my wife has left me 16 messages. I don't even check them. I just delete them all and inhale the best thing since boneless buffalo wings. Seriously. How anyone can get through life without this stuff is beyond comprehension to me. My cell starts ringing again. Guess who? My wife, Roxy, again. I answer this time.

"Harold Green" I answer.

"When are you coming home?" Roxy asks me. I get home at the same time every day. 5pm.

"Same as usual" I tell her in my most condescending voice.

"Got something special planned?" I ask.

"No" she says before hanging up. Is this what I have become? Just some unhappy professional sitting alone in his office lusting after Mexican taco stand broads while inhaling copious amounts of nitrous oxide? I place the mask in my lap and close my eyes. I start to feel good. Dizzy, but good. I think I may have turned the gas on too high. But for some reason I don't seem to mind.

Maria. If I could have just one night with her I think my life would be better. It's getting kind of warm in here. I open my eyes and it is dark outside. Street lights shine where the sun should be through my blinds. How long have I been out?

I try to move but can't. I don't care. I feel good. Nothing can bring me down. Hey, I can feel my arm a bit. I reach for a cigarette. Nitrous itself is not flammable. It's the oxygen that is present that makes it so. I light a cigarette and say goodnight to you all.

BOOM.