Last Saturday I was, yet again, captured by a female ISIS employee and tortured.
Her code name in Canada is: dentist
Three hours of merciless pain, rubbing, drilling, cutting, sticking, poking, hammering, sanding and a plethora of other "ings" was delivered to my mouth – Along with smoke, steam, spit, water, latex and flouride. A deadly mix of flavours I've only ever experienced at the Olive Garden salad bar.
I kept asking her what she wanted to know from me. "I'll answer all your questions", I pleaded.
She had none. She was quite satisfied with holding a contest to see how many metal instruments can fit in the average human mouth without killing the victim.
She also applied the hippo test. The hippo can open its mouth wider than any other land animal – 3 ft. (1m). She never told me how I compared, but she was definitely curious to see if I could put the hippo where my mouth is.
At the 2-hour mark, I decided she was the ancestor of Gutzon Borglum.
Borglum is the man who designed and chiseled Mount Rushmore.
So. That was her raison dental.
She couldn't exactly go to the nearest mountain and blast the most recent Presidential faces into it – not with the permits and licences you need these days. It took me four years at the permits committee just to replace a rotting board on my backyard fence. "How many trees will die for this?"
My dentist was carving her own Mount Rushmore, rather, Mouth Rushmore.
A much smaller version. When finished, it was beautiful work. The likenesses were – Presidental.
The quality was not in question.
Her historical accuracy was!
Spanning the gap where my top central incisors use to be was the bust of Michael Dukakis.
HE WASN'T EVEN PRESIDENT, I screamed.
Look at him. He makes Dubya look outright Presidential.
"Shut your mouth. Or I'll make them all Trump."
