pain?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, let’s take care of that right away.”
The dentist removed his hands from my mouth to attend to the instruments on his tray. When he turned back to address me, he was holding a huge syringe with a large needle attached to it in his hand. I had to say something and right away.
“Where do you suppose Margie is?” I asked.
Again, the dentist paused to consider my question.
“You certainly are obsessed with the whereabouts of my assistant,” he said. “Why is that?”
“I guess I’m just worried about her. Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Have you called her?” I asked as the needle approached.
“Open your mouth wide again and let me worry about Margie,” the dentist warned.
“ Aaah .” I made this pathetic noise as the needle slid into place.
I felt the needle pierce my skin between my tongue and gum line. It stung before becoming very uncomfortable. The dentist wiggled my lip to work the needle in all the way. He slowly depressed the plunger. Eventually he removed the needle and placed the syringe on the tray.
“Now, let’s give that a few minutes to take effect.”
“Aw-white,” I replied, already feeling my lip and tongue going numb.
The dentist turned away from me to play with his tools lying on the tray. As he did so, he talked to me—I assumed to ease my nerves.
“So, do you have any plans for the weekend?” he asked.
“Just baking my Santa cake.”
“Yes, you mentioned that. What is that all about?”
“It’s a cake in the shape of Santa’s sleigh,” I explained. “Margie is bringing the reindeer cupcakes to the party.”
I was relieved that the pain was going away; however, the Novocain was also making it even more difficult to speak. Additionally, I had no idea whether I was chewing on my tongue, though I certainly felt like it.
“Are you and Margie close?”
“Not very, but I like her a lot. She speaks very highly of you.”
“Oh? Does she talk about her work much?”
“Sometimes,” I said, feeling that I’d said enough and wanting to divulge no more.
“Well, hopefully she has only good things to say about this place.”
Actually, she didn’t. Margie hadn’t said anything directly, but she had hinted to me that something at work was making her unhappy, something related to Dr. Bester. Knowledge of her unhappiness combined with the doctor’s questions was making me uncomfortable. When he suddenly grabbed my arm I jumped in my seat.
“My, but you’re on pins and needles. You don’t like coming to the dentist much, do you?”
“Not much, no,” I confessed.
“I tell you what, I’m going to give you a little something to calm you down before I begin working on you.”
Good Lord, not another needle, I thought. Sure enough, the next time the dentist turned to face me he had another syringe in his hand, though this one was considerably smaller. Before I could comment he had wiped my arm down with alcohol, poked the needle into my arm, and depressed the plunger.
“There, that should help,” he said, setting the needle aside.
And it did. It took only a few moments for me to begin feeling the effects of the drug. And it felt wonderful. It also made the office a little cloudy and brought the ceiling closer to my face.
“Wow, doc. What was that you just shot me up with?”
“Just a little Sodium Pentothal to help you relax. How do you feel?”
“Relaxed,” I admitted.
Though I could no longer feel much of my face, I was pretty sure that I was smiling. I may very well have been drooling as well, but I didn’t really care. I began slapping the arms of the chair and bouncing while the dentist toyed with his instruments. Then I started to giggle.
“So, do you think that Margie will be missed if she doesn’t show up at this party?” the dentist asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked dreamily.
“Does Margie have any other friends who might wonder where she is?”
“That’s a funny question,” I giggled.
“Yes,
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, let’s take care of that right away.”
The dentist removed his hands from my mouth to attend to the instruments on his tray. When he turned back to address me, he was holding a huge syringe with a large needle attached to it in his hand. I had to say something and right away.
“Where do you suppose Margie is?” I asked.
Again, the dentist paused to consider my question.
“You certainly are obsessed with the whereabouts of my assistant,” he said. “Why is that?”
“I guess I’m just worried about her. Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Have you called her?” I asked as the needle approached.
“Open your mouth wide again and let me worry about Margie,” the dentist warned.
“ Aaah .” I made this pathetic noise as the needle slid into place.
I felt the needle pierce my skin between my tongue and gum line. It stung before becoming very uncomfortable. The dentist wiggled my lip to work the needle in all the way. He slowly depressed the plunger. Eventually he removed the needle and placed the syringe on the tray.
“Now, let’s give that a few minutes to take effect.”
“Aw-white,” I replied, already feeling my lip and tongue going numb.
The dentist turned away from me to play with his tools lying on the tray. As he did so, he talked to me—I assumed to ease my nerves.
“So, do you have any plans for the weekend?” he asked.
“Just baking my Santa cake.”
“Yes, you mentioned that. What is that all about?”
“It’s a cake in the shape of Santa’s sleigh,” I explained. “Margie is bringing the reindeer cupcakes to the party.”
I was relieved that the pain was going away; however, the Novocain was also making it even more difficult to speak. Additionally, I had no idea whether I was chewing on my tongue, though I certainly felt like it.
“Are you and Margie close?”
“Not very, but I like her a lot. She speaks very highly of you.”
“Oh? Does she talk about her work much?”
“Sometimes,” I said, feeling that I’d said enough and wanting to divulge no more.
“Well, hopefully she has only good things to say about this place.”
Actually, she didn’t. Margie hadn’t said anything directly, but she had hinted to me that something at work was making her unhappy, something related to Dr. Bester. Knowledge of her unhappiness combined with the doctor’s questions was making me uncomfortable. When he suddenly grabbed my arm I jumped in my seat.
“My, but you’re on pins and needles. You don’t like coming to the dentist much, do you?”
“Not much, no,” I confessed.
“I tell you what, I’m going to give you a little something to calm you down before I begin working on you.”
Good Lord, not another needle, I thought. Sure enough, the next time the dentist turned to face me he had another syringe in his hand, though this one was considerably smaller. Before I could comment he had wiped my arm down with alcohol, poked the needle into my arm, and depressed the plunger.
“There, that should help,” he said, setting the needle aside.
And it did. It took only a few moments for me to begin feeling the effects of the drug. And it felt wonderful. It also made the office a little cloudy and brought the ceiling closer to my face.
“Wow, doc. What was that you just shot me up with?”
“Just a little Sodium Pentothal to help you relax. How do you feel?”
“Relaxed,” I admitted.
Though I could no longer feel much of my face, I was pretty sure that I was smiling. I may very well have been drooling as well, but I didn’t really care. I began slapping the arms of the chair and bouncing while the dentist toyed with his instruments. Then I started to giggle.
“So, do you think that Margie will be missed if she doesn’t show up at this party?” the dentist asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked dreamily.
“Does Margie have any other friends who might wonder where she is?”
“That’s a funny question,” I giggled.
“Yes,
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