So, how long have you been practicing?
Have you been practicing so long you know how to fix my teeth like the back of your molars? If you don’t like my sass will you cane me down like House? Or is this more of a Doogie Howser type situation? If you are more personally familiar with baby teeth instead of adult teeth, I will kindly replace myself with a baby with a more pressing appointment and bid you a good day, sir.
Could I have some sunglasses please?
I hate to bother you, but that burning smell you keep asking, Tammy, the hygienist about is my retinas. Could I try to claw around in my black hole of a bag to find my sunglasses? I am afraid that these spots in my eyes are going to take over my entire scope of vision soon. When I’m blind, I don’t think I will care as much about your teeth whitening offer.
Can I have the gas?
I don’t want to offend you, but I can’t take one more story about you and your “smoking hot wife” and the kids going down to Panama City Beach. I would much rather have a squid-like object smothering my body with strange chemicals to put me out of my misery, respectfully.
Could you kindly please stop stabbing me?
I haven’t bled this much out of any orifice in my body since I got my time of the month during exam week in grad school. Frankly, I’m started to get concerned. If I bleed out in this chair, tell my family I loved them.
Any question at all really.
In reality, any question I would try to ask would be unintelligible due to the drill, scraper, jack, and jackhammer in my mouth. I am reduced to a simple toddler crying in pain and trying to keep my drool off of my bib.