Harry
sat nervously all alone in the silent waiting room. He had just
finished an interesting article on the reproduction habits of
the Madagascar hissing cockroach in a 1987 edition of National
Geographic when the receptionist finally called on him.
"Mr.
Smith, the dentist shall see you now." She spoke in a matter-of-fact
tone, never removing the buffer from her nails.
She
gave him a wily stare as he eased up from the chair and replaced
the magazine back to the other literary antiques strewn haphazardly
over the table in the center of room.
Harry
took a deep breath and marched over to the dark red door. "Why
the hell is it red?" he often wondered.
He
went in, combating his desire to run, and sat himself into the
chair.
"Hello,
Doctor Brown," Harry chirped in a fruitless attempt to be
positive.
The
doctor just looked at him and grunted.
The
dentist was clad, as always, in a long white gown, a face mask
and gloves.
"Looks
like he's ready for a bloody slaughter house!" mused Harry
to himself and wished straight away that he had not imagined such
a vivid and horrid thought.
"Think
of cheerful things, Harry!" he reminded himself, as he watched
the dentist slowly walk over to him.
"Imagine
you're sitting on a lovely sunny beach with the misses supping
on a lovely glass of Yorkshire best bitter—that's better!"
The
dentist looked down at Harry in the chair. "Broken tooth,
eh, Harry? Tch Tch Tch."
Harry
squirmed a little.
"Going
to have to put you out, I'm afraid..." His voice was strangely
cold and monotone.
Harry's
eyes opened wider as he watched the dentist take a six-inch needle
from a stainless steel drawer by the chair.
"This
is going to hurt you far more than it is going to hurt me…"
The dentist muttered the old cliché to the now terrified
Harry.
"But—but
I normally get gas!" Harry complained.
Then
in a single thrust, the needle was quickly plunged into Harry's
flabby arm.
"This
is going to put you to sleep, Harry..." he declared.
Harry
felt the intense pain as the needle clumsily entered his bloodstream.
He instantly began to feel light headed.
Just
as Harry was about to completely lose consciousness, a cupboard
at the far side of the office sprung open, and the hacked remains
of a body fell out onto the office floor.
Harry,
using the last of his quickly depleting energy, screamed as he
recognized the face on the body—Dr. Brown—his dentist.
Then,
with the sound of the hysterical laughing ringing in his ears,
Harry passed out.
The end.
