On The Dentist

I went to the dentist today and I actually tend to have a really good time there. The place is quiet, maybe one other patient the whole time I'm there – usually an old grandma – and the dude's pretty laid back. XM Radio's permanently fixed to classic rock and the guy's kids are about my age, so we tend to talk college and generally have a pleasant encounter. I guess it doesn't hurt that I never have any real medical problems.

There's just one thing I don't get, though. I guess the silence is hard to deal with, but if you're going to make smalltalk while cleaning my teeth, why do you pepper it with so many open-ended questions?

I mean yes/no's are cool. I can do hand motions for that. I can even give you a wishy-washy little fag hand wave for "maybe." I'm fuckin awesome like that. I can pantomime with the best of them. I learned how to curse in sign language just for occassions like this, but there's only so much I can do. With two masked individuals hovering over my oral cavity and prodding me with mint-flavored ice picks, I'm not really in the best condition to discuss my thoughts on Catcher In the Rye as a literary achievment. (For the record, I'm PRO Sallinger, ANTI Caufield.)

If you're still puzzling over this, this was the actual conversation:

Dentist: "So my daughter's reading Cather In the Rye now and she's not real big on the reading
… but I don't think there actually IS a movie of that now, so …."
Me: "…"
Dentist: "You ever read Catcher In the Rye?"
Me: "Ueh-heh." [All-vowel affirmative noise]
Dentist: "What'd you think of it??" [Pauses for answer, does not remove tools from my mouth]