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September 29, 2003

Our Writing Sample Series

Here at our beautiful website we are trying something a little different. We are going to provide our readers of writing samples from the people close to us. Our first writer hails from Minneapolis, Minnesota. In the frozen winters he would sit atop a frozen lake and let the pen fly. What appeared on paper was wonderful prose fit for any fake news organization. Today he lives with his parents and works construction. He enjoys long walks on the beach and taking care of other people's dogs. Here is an excerpt from his critically acclaimed website, "Moonlight-Graham.com", titled "A Trip to the Dentist". Presenting the work of Joshua David Wise for the first time on jenaandaaron.com...

"A Trip to the Dentist"
I have never been terribly afraid of trips to the dentist. I'm not saying I'm tough, I just have never been bothered by the whole ordeal. Trips to the dentist simply meant I got to look for hidden pictures in the "Highlights" magazine and I'd get that little vacuum straw in my mouth--I love the sound it makes.


But this week it all changed. I walked into the dentist's office, told them my name, and quickly took my seat, reaching for the "Highlights" magazine. Before I could even flip to the hidden pictures page, the receptionist, whom I did not recognize, was asking me my age. That, of course, meant that she was wondering if I were over 18 (and had nothing to do with the fact that I was holding a children's magazine). Since I am 24, I was forced to sign all sorts of forms and fill out all sorts of information about insurance. I printed my name, signed my name, and dated every page. Relieved to be done, I stood up and placed the clipboard on her desk. Finally, time for the hidden pictures. My butt had hardly hit my seat, when the receptionist was informing me that there was a back-side to one of the forms. What a pain in the back-side! I filled out the form and answered the remaining questions, there were only about 50 of them. It took forever. No time for the hidden pictures--by the time I was done, there was a vacancy for me in a dentist's chair.


I sat down in that laid-back chair and tried to get comfortable. Soon, the dental hygienist was jabbing me in the gums with her double-hooked weapon. (Talmage just informed me that it is not a weapon--I stand firm in my conviction that definition stems from use.) Captain Hook scraped, yanked, stabbed, and sliced my mouth. She made my orthodontist look like Mother There-re-re-re-resa (a little stutter humor for those of you who know my ortho). I quickly realized that the fun little straw-shaped vacuum was not sucking up excess saliva, but much-needed and appreciated blood. I must have lost a pint of blood--and three teeth!


What I don't understand is why the instrument being used in my mouth has to have two razor-sharp hooks on it. Apparently, it is not torture enough to feel one curved scalpel dig inches beneath the gum-line, scraping the jawbone; in addition we must either stare at a sterile hook that like a fire-eyed cadet that seems to be screaming "Command the launch, Sir!" or gaze in horror upon that veteran hook returning from the front lines, toting its carnage, blood and sinew, on the tip of its bayonet. Can't dentists afford to have only one weapon per stick? They should put a smiley face on the tip that dances in front of my eyes while its partner works its destruction. Or at least give me nitrous oxide.


The pain was almost unbearable, but I survived. When my "Little Shop of Horrors" nightmare was over (I'm not going to be able to watch Steve Martin for at least a month), I got up from the chair, stumbled out of the office (without a sucker or sticker), went to my car, and began to weep. I wept for joy--my brush with death made me realize how sweet life is.

Posted by aaron at September 29, 2003 10:49 AM

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