A Trip To The Dentist

A Shadow falls dramatically over you and your chair. You peer up slowly for effect. There behind the Booth stands a frighteningly unintimidating man, short in stature but tall including his hair -- it adds probably a foot and a half of wild orange afro to the man's head in all directions, growing wildly like so many orange curls of wildly curly hair. He wears a giant, flashy grin (there are no other ways to describe his smile: his teeth are impeccable) and wide eyes reading 'although my appearance looks tame, there is something definitely wrong about me.' His stubby limbs are covered by a long white labcoat and grey shorts, and on his hands are a pair of gloves a shade bluer than mauve. He beams at you with the affection you'd expect out of a father.

"This is the Dentist's office!" he shouts suddenly, voice high and piercing in its Falsetto. His grin, which you imagined to be as big as it could possibly get, like a balloon filled to bursting with toothpaste, grows larger. "I believe you've hurt my bell's feelings! I imagine it feels used! Every time you ring a bell you give it a piece of your heart, you know, and it gives you a piece of its heart! You can't just go about ringing bells all you like!"

The man nods exaggeratedly, hair bobbing over his eyes and then back again. You blink, shocked.

"Are you waiting for the Dentist?" the man squeals. "I am the Dentist! The Dentist is in!"