The Hairy Horror Hummer

It's 6:30 p.m. Saturday evening and I'm at the dentist's for my monthly check-up, which usually goes off really well because of the extraordinary care I give my braces. Oh, wait... Did I just say dentist? I meant (Cue thunder, lightning and a third-rate drumroll) The Hairy Horror Hummer (And the 'er' syllable echoes into oblivion) Like most dentists, mine comes with especially hairy arms which I am forced to stare at for fifteen minutes a month. I've counted 76, 324, 129 hairs so far, over the past two years, and that's just mid-forearm.

So, anyway, there I am, flipping through a Stardust that's screaming out "Trouble in John-Bipasha waters" (Yeah, so?) when I hear him say "Manvi, you can come in now." Ho hum. So I step into his room and, on account of having a terribly sore throat, croak out a "Good evening, doctor." "Aah", he says, doing a very bad job of trying to sound like Gandalf the white. "Heavy cold, I assume? The weather's simply awful. And now they're selling ice-creams in school, also, no? Ice-creams in excessive amounts aren't the best for your teeth, ma..."
Curse his kids. They study in the same school as I, and have most definitely told on me and my obsession with iced lollies. My articulacy evades me, save for an "Ummm... Yeah, I guess." "Sit, sit, sit", he says. What am I? Tommy your pet pomeranian? One "sit" will do, thank you.

I sit down and wait for him to put on two pairs of latex gloves, his green mask that makes him sound like Darth Vader staright out of Mylapore, et al. When done, he sits on his stool and starts humming along to a 1960's Sivaji Ganesan number. And thus begins my monthly check-up.

"Have you been regular with the elastics?" he asks. Ummm.... we're talking tiny blue rubber-bands here. They're supposed to hold my teeth together and help make them look all nice and perfect like a celebrity's. Sorry, but the only celeb I look like when I have them on is Sly Stallone, seeing as to how I almost always need to have a monkey wrench in hand to prise both jaws open if I want to speak. "Yes, yes, doctor....absolutely." I say and smile. "Aah...." Dang, there he goes again!!! "They don't seem to be doing a very good job, no? Manvi, you're going to go down in history as the patient I've treated for the longest time." he says and chuckles. Ooooh wow, lucky meeee.

With that overhwhelming statement, he squeezes a pair of pliers lodged between my two front teeth. Eeeeeeeek. And he pulls. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Someone stop him!! He then pulls out two dangerous-looking pieces of metal, some yellow ucky icky thing that is positively vile and says "Reshaping, reshaping" My brain, therefore, launches off into it's I'm A Fat Girl mode. How many calories does one donut have? Oh, God, I've had an entire donut with sprinkles today. But it was so tiny.... and so chocolatey!!! I love dark chocolate, by the way... Particularly Lindt's dark ch-owwwww!!!! What the hell? I completely forget that the Hairy Horror is working his black magic on me. He pinches my cheek really, really hard. !#^**#$&&% . "We have to reshape the metal caps, ma, why aren't you listening?" I sit up and pay utmost attention, or atleast try to.

He yanks, pulls, twists, turns and has a whale of a time hurting me. The sadist. With an "Ammaaaaa..." he has dislocated my jaw. My fingers edge towards his skinny neck, to be stopped by the nurse's "Daacter saar, pudhu payshunt vandhirkaanga" "That'll be it then, Manvi, you can leave...there'll be slight pain as usual, and I'm sure you're strong enough to handle that", he says with an ear-to-ear grin. SLIGHT PAIN? SLIGHT PAIN? Who ya' trying to kid? Even a friggin mountaineer whose legs have fallen off from frostbite wouldn't have known pain of this kind. "I'll see you next month, as usual?" You.Wish.