I suppose it is,” Dr. Bester replied with a chuckle.
The next time the dentist turned to face me he had a drill in his hand. It may have been my imagination or the effects of the drug, but I could have sworn that I heard the drill’s high-pitched whir as the dentist revved its engine. My foggy mind cleared in an instant. I needed to say something and say it quick.
“I think Margie is mad at you about something,” I blurted at the dentist.
Once more the dentist paused to consider my words.
“Now, that’s a very peculiar thing to say. What makes you say such a thing anyway? Did Margie say something about me? About the two of us?”
“Not directly. She just hinted,” I mumbled, looking wide-eyed at the drill.
“Why would you mention such a thing at a time like this?”
“No particular reason,” I replied sheepishly, attempting to melt back into the chair away from the drill.
The dentist considered me a moment longer before shrugging his shoulders and leaning back over me.
“Okay now, open wide. This won’t hurt a bit. Just a little discomfort.”
The whirring sound started again, and then changed pitch as the drill came in contact with what remained of my molar. The change in the sound was akin to a similar change produced by pushing a piece of wood into the blade of a table saw. The high-speed whirring was replaced by a grinding, chewing sound. As the dentist drilled deeper I began to smell and taste burning tooth which replaced the medicinal scent of his office. My feet began to wiggle of their own accord while I dug my fingers deeper into the armrests. I wanted to scream but knew that if I did I might shock the dentist into drilling an errant hole in my head.
To soothe my nerves, I forced myself to ruminate over Margie, treating her disappearance as a detective case. There was something about her not being here today that disturbed me. Now, what could it be? I replayed my trip through the office in my mind. I remembered that I had checked out the Christmas decorations in the receptionist area while noticing that Margie wasn’t at her usual station. Something else that I’d seen in that area was the source of my discomfort, I was sure. Then it struck me in a flash. Margie’s coat and scarf were hanging on the coatrack in the corner. I’d seen her wearing the same outerwear a dozen times this season. Now why would she leave the office without taking her coat and scarf with her?
I was totally immersed in my thoughts, happily ignoring the activity of the dentist within my mouth. But then I jumped when he touched a nerve with the tip of his drill. The dentist pulled back and straightened up.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Not really!” I mumbled.
My tongue naturally made its way to my molar to examine the damage. I couldn’t feel much but could still tell that most of my molar was now gone, a result of the dentist’s efforts to turn the tooth into a post to hold a crown.
“Why don’t we take a few moments to rest before I start again?” the doctor suggested, rinsing my mouth with a water nozzle before retrieving the vacuum hose from my mouth.
“Okay,” I eagerly relented.
“So, tell me what Margie has been saying to you,” he prodded.
Wow, now Dr. Bester was the one obsessing on Margie, I thought.
“It wasn’t so much anything she said,” I tried to explain. “It’s more a sense I got.”
“You got a sense that she was upset?”
“Yes.”
“About work?”
“Yes.”
“And about me specifically?”
“Possibly.”
“You get a lot of these senses, do you?”
“I guess so.”
“And based on these senses you feel the need to pry into Margie and my life?”
I was struck dumb by the sudden accusation.
“Ah yes, I’ve heard about you. You’re the famous amateur detective. You must get odd feelings about everyone that you meet.”
“Not necessarily,” I replied defensively. “It depends on if they’re acting oddly.”
“But you find it odd that Margie
The next time the dentist turned to face me he had a drill in his hand. It may have been my imagination or the effects of the drug, but I could have sworn that I heard the drill’s high-pitched whir as the dentist revved its engine. My foggy mind cleared in an instant. I needed to say something and say it quick.
“I think Margie is mad at you about something,” I blurted at the dentist.
Once more the dentist paused to consider my words.
“Now, that’s a very peculiar thing to say. What makes you say such a thing anyway? Did Margie say something about me? About the two of us?”
“Not directly. She just hinted,” I mumbled, looking wide-eyed at the drill.
“Why would you mention such a thing at a time like this?”
“No particular reason,” I replied sheepishly, attempting to melt back into the chair away from the drill.
The dentist considered me a moment longer before shrugging his shoulders and leaning back over me.
“Okay now, open wide. This won’t hurt a bit. Just a little discomfort.”
The whirring sound started again, and then changed pitch as the drill came in contact with what remained of my molar. The change in the sound was akin to a similar change produced by pushing a piece of wood into the blade of a table saw. The high-speed whirring was replaced by a grinding, chewing sound. As the dentist drilled deeper I began to smell and taste burning tooth which replaced the medicinal scent of his office. My feet began to wiggle of their own accord while I dug my fingers deeper into the armrests. I wanted to scream but knew that if I did I might shock the dentist into drilling an errant hole in my head.
To soothe my nerves, I forced myself to ruminate over Margie, treating her disappearance as a detective case. There was something about her not being here today that disturbed me. Now, what could it be? I replayed my trip through the office in my mind. I remembered that I had checked out the Christmas decorations in the receptionist area while noticing that Margie wasn’t at her usual station. Something else that I’d seen in that area was the source of my discomfort, I was sure. Then it struck me in a flash. Margie’s coat and scarf were hanging on the coatrack in the corner. I’d seen her wearing the same outerwear a dozen times this season. Now why would she leave the office without taking her coat and scarf with her?
I was totally immersed in my thoughts, happily ignoring the activity of the dentist within my mouth. But then I jumped when he touched a nerve with the tip of his drill. The dentist pulled back and straightened up.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Not really!” I mumbled.
My tongue naturally made its way to my molar to examine the damage. I couldn’t feel much but could still tell that most of my molar was now gone, a result of the dentist’s efforts to turn the tooth into a post to hold a crown.
“Why don’t we take a few moments to rest before I start again?” the doctor suggested, rinsing my mouth with a water nozzle before retrieving the vacuum hose from my mouth.
“Okay,” I eagerly relented.
“So, tell me what Margie has been saying to you,” he prodded.
Wow, now Dr. Bester was the one obsessing on Margie, I thought.
“It wasn’t so much anything she said,” I tried to explain. “It’s more a sense I got.”
“You got a sense that she was upset?”
“Yes.”
“About work?”
“Yes.”
“And about me specifically?”
“Possibly.”
“You get a lot of these senses, do you?”
“I guess so.”
“And based on these senses you feel the need to pry into Margie and my life?”
I was struck dumb by the sudden accusation.
“Ah yes, I’ve heard about you. You’re the famous amateur detective. You must get odd feelings about everyone that you meet.”
“Not necessarily,” I replied defensively. “It depends on if they’re acting oddly.”
“But you find it odd that Margie
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