The Dentist
The feeling of happiness died the moment he woke up.
One long, green hand moved across the wooden table as the alarm blared hatefully. The large fingers clicked the snooze button as their owner groggily sat up. Another Monday morning.
The man ran a hand over his smooth head and sighed. He really hated the morning. And the night. And all the time in between. He yawned and popped his back, sending small cracking noises throughout the cold room. He had forgotten to turn up his thermostat again, and the frigid winter air gushed in through the window he had left open in the kitchen, eventually circulating through the entire house. He shivered and rubbed his hands together, getting out of the king sized, crimson-covered bed. Bad days started like this.
He quickly went downstairs and into the dark foyer. He flipped on the light and searched for his heater switch. He quickly adjusted the temperature to a more comfortable72 degrees, instead of the present 59.
That done, he briskly walked into the spacious kitchen and turned on the overhead light. He found his coffee machine and pressed 'on', waiting to leave until he heard the constant 'drip drip' of the brewing liquid. He strode back up the stairs to the master bathroom and turned on the shower. Soon, a steady amount of steam rose and he discarded his black boxers in the laundry basket. He winced as the hot water pounded his skin. He quickly reached for his soap and proceeded in continuing his mundane morning rituals.
Everyday, except for Saturday and Sunday, was the same for him. He didn't really mind, though. It was when something went horribly wrong and unexpected that he had a problem. He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, walking into his room to get dressed. He wore the same thing everyday, too. A crisp white shirt and black tie with black pants and shoes. He was often said to go to funerals everyday.
He noted with agitation that one of his socks had made itself missing. He got on one knee and looked around for it, suspecting he accidentally dropped it. He found it under his bed, where he must have kicked it by mistake. As he held the black material he was reminded of his ex-wife.
She had always done something with one of his possessions every morning. Sometimes she hid his glasses, other times she took all the towels from the bathroom while he was showering. But her favorite thing was to take just one of his socks. She knew it drove him crazy. He growled and shoved his foot inside the dark sock. He wondered if she did that with her gigolo now. He chuckled a short, hard laugh and stood up. It wasn't likely, since they probably never talked. They just screwed each other whenever they could.
Like every man who went through a long and trying divorce, he hated his wife. He really wished she would do the world a favor and play in noonday traffic.
-
He listened dully to the monotone news reporter as he read off stock exchanges. He liked old jazz and blues music, but sadly they depressed him now. He couldn't stand rap, and he'd just as soon scratch his eyes out then listen to country. Once upon a time he enjoyed rock, but listening to the classics like AC/DC or Guns and Roses made him feel old. So, stock listings it was.
He peered out his window with mild interest as a police man arrested a thuggish-looking man, who was currently yelling at the top of his lungs, exposing his several gold teeth.
'Who the hell would want those damn things?' He wondered silently to himself. As a doctor who worked with teeth for a living, he took notice of people's mouths before anything else. He really hated his job.
-
"Good morning, Dr. Damioh. How are you feeling today?" The young receptionist asked politely as he entered the clinic.
"Can't complain." He muttered, taking off his jacket. "How's your son doing?" He asked, feigning concern. The kid could be doing 10-15 at Sing Sing for all he cared.
"Great, thanks for asking. His check-up is coming up soon!"
"Can't wait." He said in a monotone voice. He went into his office and hung his jacket up, then sat down in his large swivel chair. He looked out his window and watched the sleeting rain fall. He loathed these kinds of days. His wife had always made him sit on the porch with her and watch the stupid wet drops splatter against the sidewalk. He had enjoyed the time with her then. Now he just thought of how much happier he could be now if he had just thrown himself off a high building.
He was so caught up in his reminiscing that he didn't hear his assistant come in. More to the point, he didn't hear the knocking that he had instructed him to always do when entering his office.
"Hey Dr. D! Ready for another big day?" The cheerful young man asked, grinning. His hair, besides being completely unmanageable, was pitch black, matching his large eyes. He wore a bright orange shirt today. The dentist sighed and rubbed his eyes.
He knew it was useless to remind the guy NOT to call him 'Dr. D.' Second, he could feel a severe headache coming on because of the sheer brightness of his shirt. Another unpleasant memory. His wife loved cheery colors, and always wore pink, purple, and yellow. The dentist began to suffer from migranes soon after the divorce came through, five months ago.
"Uh, Doctor? You feeling ok?" The dentist realized he hadn't responded at all to the question.
"Fine, Goku. How's your family doing?" He took his glasses off and rubbed them while Goku rattled off about his wife and son, and how they had done the Christmas decorations and other chatter.
"That's great."
"You celebrating this year?" Goku asked timidly, smiling. The dentist sighed and put his thin, stainless steel glasses back on. He tapped his finger for a moment before responding.
"Nah. Not this year." He said, resting his chin in his hand. "There's no point."
"Sorry to hear that, boss. How's, uh…She gonna spend it?"
"I don't know. I'll be sure to send her something."
"Like what?" Goku inquired, tilting his head.
"Maybe that squirrel I hit this morning."
-
The first patient of the day was a teenager, he noted. He despised teenagers. They always had gum, they never sat still, they continually mess with their hair… He just plain hated teenagers.
"Goku, bring her out." The dentist said as he checked his watch. "Time to get started."
The girl brought in was slightly shorter than he thought she would be. After all, she was 16 now. Standing at a mere 5'2, she wore short army fatigues and a long sleeved black shirt, finishing with bright red Converse high top sneakers. She grinned and strode into the room, waving.
"Morning, doc! Good day for a check-up, eh?" A loud thunder clap seemed to vibrate the walls directly after the statement was given. The patient shrugged and sat on the examination chair. "Well, I like this weather, anyway."
The dentist smiled wryly and put on some gloves. Goku happily brought the revolving light close to the girl's face and leaned back the chair.
"Now, we're going to take about 18 x-rays, sweetheart, so this will take some time." He said, inserting a piece of breath strip-looking plastic into the girl's mouth. "Just be still while we get these done." A camera device was brought so near to the patient's mouth she was almost touching it. He patted her head before nodding at Goku, who nodded and went to a wall where a button was, pushing it firmly. A faint 'beep' was heard, and the plastic was taken out. The girl winced.
"I don't like those, Damioh. Hmmm… Damioh sounds Italian. Is it?" She asked, receiving another plastic piece in the mouth.
"I don't believe so, dear." He answered dryly. The picture taking continued for another half hour before everyone was taken. "All done. Now, let's see what needs to be done." He looked at the x-rays briefly before the girl spoke to him.
"What's your name? Like your first name?" She asked curiously. The dentist raised a brow but didn't look up from the picture he was examining.
"Piccolo…"
"Mine's Sarah. Or Paco, whichever." Her feet tapped in beat, perhaps to some inner song. "Piccolo is a nice name. Heh heh, we need more 'Piccolos' in the world. Get it? Like the flute!" She laughed at her own joke a moment before becoming silent. "So tell me, Dr. P… hey, that rhymed. Anyway, why aren't you married?"
Piccolo frowned heavily and set down the plastic photo. "I was, at one point."
"Was?"
"My wife passed away years ago." He said, trying not to laugh. He wished!
"Whatever. Pictures of her would've been around, if that were the case. You're divorced, huh? Divorces are a pain in the butt. Buy hey, what are ya gonna do?" She closed her blue eyes and smiled. A blonde strand of her short, flipped-out hair went across her face as she spoke. "What happened?"