Look, dude, I don’t even really want to be here anyways. I just come here to feel bad about not flossing enough and then have you clean my teeth so that they don’t fall out of my head.
You’re not even all that involved in my life. I don’t know why you care about how my schooling is going or if I have any hobbies.
But more importantly, even if you do care, how am I supposed to answer you when you have your hands in my mouth? I can’t properly answer you without biting down and sending bloody finger chunks all over the room. If I do try to answer you without moving my lips and teeth, I just sound like a zombie who had a stroke. You can’t understand what I’m saying. Nobody can understand what I’m saying. Even if you ask me yes or no questions, I can’t nod or shake my head for fear of bumping your hand and giving myself an unnecessary root canal.
I can take the chastisement over my brushing habits. I even enjoy getting that new toothbrush at the end of the appointment. But while you’ve got your hands in my mouth poking at my gums with Satan’s pitchfork, please, please, please let me suffer in silence.
