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Hygiene
Hygiene

Hygiene

StormStorm

Every few months I have to return to this wretched place. I always keep them squeaky clean yet they call anyways. Usually its for money, but, don't they all? I don't fear much. I like wildlife, I like the night over day, I like people, I like silence. What I do fear is how deep the seas are, how wide our universe is, and nothing foreign messing with my teeth. Whenever I am there nothing except fear flows through my body. Every scratch against the grooves of my teeth makes me flinch. My gums ache by the time I leave. My mouth has a slight taste of blood and saliva. The sound of the drill is so loud my ears feel like they are bleeding. I tell them to give me a break but they don't notice. Don't be fooled by the grand decor and polite receptionist for they are only lies. Even the front doors are odd, for me that is. Above all else, after all the hell my mouth goes through I am dreading the front desk for they always catch me before I can leave and when I do turn to them they immediately ask about a follow-up. I just want to go home. This may sound odd, believe me, I didn't think this way until a couple of years ago. I just think there is more to it. More to picking, scraping, and drilling people's teeth for a living. Be careful out in the world. And for god sake keep your teeth clean or you'll have to go back. Back to a place that'll bring you pain. The Dentist.

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About The Author
Storm
Storm
About This Story
Audience
12+
Posted
24 May, 2020
Words
273
Read Time
1 min
Rating
No reviews yet
Views
163

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