Toothsie

Today I made a momentous discovery that I hate to be dragged out of the house at three in the afternoon. Specially if it is done to meet that dash and a dot dentist whom we will call Plopboinkgruff for obvious privacy reasons.

Plopboinkgruff's chamber is a typical oishob jaega where the receptionist stares till you fell you are some exhibitionist ready to break into hives. So you just flip through the well thumbed magazines or listen to the nauseating chatter of some precocious kid or maybe look outside the window at that sleazy celluloid poster with some imbecile of an actor smiling, as it seemed at gunpoint.

The insufferably bulimic woman hanging around his neck looked like that fabled Betaal. I am, of course talking about that guy in the poster and not Plopboinkgruff who summoned us, an hour after the appointed time. He was barking at some one when we entered and kept on barking for the next ten minutes. Finally when he had exhausted his creativity in invectives, he snarled at us.

The point is, ma's gums are bleeding. The last doc waved it off as psychological[ psychological bleeding? for Pete's sake]and she wanted a second opinion. SO Mr Plopboinkgruff tried to get to the root of the problem[ hey, if you didn't get the pun, then go back and re-read the last line] and all the while ma kept on talking about some imaginary relatives whom he had miraculously cured.

He looked as if she had just passed him free lunch baskets. The diagnosis was promptly pronounced- Vit K deficiency. He paused theatrically to notice our response aaaand then said with concentrated gravity- 'A B C D E F G H I J...K' with each letter being enunciated with an alarmingly escalating pitch. These dentists are crazy.