A boob, that's what I am, a boob!

A few months in the rearview, I broke one of my front teeth. Not real bad. But, bad enough that you could see the chip if I smiled, or talked. Still, I put off getting it fixed for some time because I'm cheap and have been busy. A few weeks ago, I noted a business person staring at it during a meeting, and well, all my being an Okie, white trash, double wide stereotype thinking pushed me off center enough to open my wallet and get the damn thing fixed. I did this yesterday. That's not what is BLOG worthy though. What is BLOG worthy is another shiny example of my bad sense of humor. I think this is hilarious. Then again, I think buying the Elder Boy(s) teacher a six pack of beer along with a Bud Dry T-Shirt is funny. I'm sick.

As usual with me, you need a bit of back story for this story. My Dentist who I've only been seeing since this Summer is a good guy with a very family friendly practice. It is the kind of practice that has those little needle point things with Bible scripture on the walls. In his main office, where he was going to fix my broke tooth, he has a shrine to The Andy Griffith Show. You can tell by his paraphanelia that he really digs the family values of the show, etc. I have no problem with any of that, actually, and as I started, I think he is a good guy, I tell you it for context.

I was en fuego yesterday. I arrived at my appointment at the exact start time, so I had no wait. The little old lady knew me, and as she was telling me to go on back to the Mayberry Room, I told her I was sorry for being so tight on the appointment, blaming those 'damn' school zones. She gave me a wary, I can't believe that little punk said 'damn' smile, and returned to her work.

After pleasantries with the Dental Tech on my Thanksgiving, the Good Dentist came in and said hello, and promptly apologized for being hoarse. Hoarse my ass, I thought, you are sick! I'm germ phobic. This only stoked my flames making me mucho en fuego, thus as I was reclined back in the dental chair, peering up at the devotional and inspirational posters they have on their ceiling, my bad joke hit me.

Dentist: So, how did you do this Stuart?
Me: Beer bottle (which is true.)
Dentist: Oh, ok...that's good...means that the way you chew didn't cause the chip which means I can file it down a bit and then patch it with some (insert whatever the tooth cement is called.) It should be as good as new, cosmetically. It won't be as strong as before though, so you'll have to watch how you bite certain things, like carrots...and watch those beer bottles.
Me: I don't want that.
Dentist: Excuse me?
Me: I want a fang.
Dentist: A fang...?
Me: Yes.
Dentist and Dental Tech: (both laugh...)
Me: I'm serious. I want a fang. Can't you file it down so it is sharp and pointy, you know, like an animal, or a vampire.
Dentist: (nervous laughter as he looks over at the Dental Tech who has a blank look on her face.) You want a...
Me: (cutting him off...) How much will that cost me? A fang? Out of pocket I mean, I couldn't find anything in my insurance book about how much insurance would pay for something like that. They had something about cosmetic dental work, but I thought that was like, gold teeth with diamonds in them or something? You know, the bling.
Dentist: (looking very confused.) You are serious? You want a...

At that point, I couldn't continue, I pussed out, smiled and then flat out laughed which caused them to both laugh, so we all sat around in the Shrine to Andy and laughed, long and hard.

I think the Good Dentist might have the last laugh though. This morning, I woke up, with a sore throat. Bastard. I should have gargled with Purell when I left that place.

Until I BLOG again...I should have worn a cape to the appointment!