At the Dentist

 

I was not feeling at all well lately. So I went to the dentist. I told him I have a pain when I walk. I have water on the knee.

He said I was not aiming straight, and laughed.

He then said he was a dentist, not a doctor. Why had I come to see him?

I said I could not make it to the doctor's, so I came to him because he is nearer to my house.

At first he refused to check my knee. I offered to give him a Mars bar and he agreed within minutes.

By the way ... as an aside ...

I do hate it when I interrupt my stories to add an aside ... but this one is important. In fact I can't wait to hear it myself.

As I was talking to the dentist  I got hit on the left by a snail. He hit me just above my left ear; then he rolled to the ground.

"I've been hit by a snail," I cried.

"Yes, they are flying snails," replied the dentist casually pretending there was nothing wrong.

By the way, as an aside ... this is another supplementary aside ... the dentist's name is I Pullem. That's what it said on his door. Rather apt for a dentist, I think.

Back to the original aside story. He said they are flying snails. At that moment another snail came flying through the window. Then another. And another. They kept coming, flying through, at thirty seconds intervals.

I went to the window, avoiding the flying snails, looked out, and there in the front garden was a man with a moustache throwing snails at the window. The moustache is not relevant to the story, but I thought I'd mention it.

"Hey you!" I shouted, because I did not know his name, "why are you throwing snails through the window?"

"Because I can't find any slugs to throw," he replied.

At which point I shut the window and turned my attention to the dentist who was picking up snails from the floor. It turns out he had a long standing dispute with the man with a moustache about some gourmet meal they had shared in a restaurant.

"What is wrong with my painful knee?" I asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" he replied, "I'm a dentist, as I told you. I'll write you a prescription."

"How can you write me a prescription if you do not know what I have got wrong?" I asked.

"Oh ... I've got plenty of prescriptions. I'll start with one to see if it works, then another, and so on. One of them is sure to work and then we'd have a remedy!" he said as he got out his writing pad, "do you prefer pills, a liquid mixture you take with a spoon, or a suppository?"

"Which one is best?" I asked.

"Well, you might need some help with the suppository. You'll need someone with a sense of humour to whom you've been kind lately!" he chortled.

"I'll take the liquid mixture!" I replied without hesitation.

He gave me a bottle he had in his case and I left.

It tasted awful. I poured it down the washbasin in the bathroom. It cleared all the drains. Saved me a fortune on getting a plumber.

Next day I went back to see the dentist and told him I'm feeling a little better. Could I have another bottle ... or two ... or three?

I have now managed to deep clean the toilet. Cleaned the bath tub and shower unit, and the kitchen sink.

I'm saving a fortune on plumbers.