Mikey made a new friend: a little red headed girl named Kaitlee, and she asked if he knew some guy in Queens who was a "hair worker".
"A hair stylist, you mean!" Bingo. Mikey's light bulb popped after a moment and the two chattered like pigeons. He was elated over his new friend; his eyes were almost bugging out of his head and he was leaning out of his chair. "You have pretty fingernail polish! Silver! Oooh! Look at your toes! Wiggle them for me! Awww, silver polish on your toes, too! They sparkle! Like little Edward Cullens!"
"My sister did them for me! Can I paint yours? I have some with me!"
And Mikey got his fingernails painted in the dental clinic waiting room.
"So are you teeth cleaned today, Mr. Mikey?"
"Absolutely!" he beamed his disgustingly pretty whites at her. "I take GREAT care of my teeth! Unlike my green gorilla brother over there! I've never seen him brush his teeth! Isn't that nasty?"
Raphael grew tired of flipping through three year old magazines about food and weddings AND Mikey's mouth. A person could grow gray hairs on his chin before being summoned to the back, and Raph was a fast reader. He zoomed through the food ones and had a couple of wedding books left. Mikey and Kaitlee had given him an odd look. At least by the time Mikey's name was called, Raph knew how to do create the perfect wedding on a budget.
Raph felt a plop in the next seat. Little Kaitlee with her smiling face, vibrant red hair, and food magazine. Surely her mother didn't want little Kaitlee to talk to green, brooding strangers. He was no Mikey; he didn't really care for entertaining children.
"Do you have a dog? I have one, and he likes to chew on my daddy's slippers. One time he chewed a hole through my wall under my bed and all I heard was this chompchompchomp and I said 'daddy! There's a monster under my bed!' and it was just Slush. He was hungry and ate the wall."
His mind had to play catch up; he should be used to it since Mikey jabbered like that. "Didn't you feed the poor pooch?"
"Ham." She swung her chicken legs and turned a page. "I want to make this. This pumpkin looking thing with creamy stuff. Why don't you brush your teeth? Do you like fish?"
The idea of a creme-filled pumpkin fish made his stomach roll. "Not today." An idea sprung in his head and he dug in his pockets. "Here," he handed a portable game console to her. "Play Zombie Mermaids from Malibu."
"Mommy says I can't play this bad stuff. I'll want to kill people and smoke."
"Yeah right!" Raphael snorted and returned to his wedding article. "I play it and I turned out fine!"
Her silver-polished fingers planted on the console, she sat on the floor and was finally distracted. Raphael didn't understand why people made a fuss over getting their children to be quiet. Hand them a zombie game and you're done!
An hour later, Mikey shuffled from the back with gauze stuffed in his mouth and numb as a bird on an electric fence. He looked pitiful and wanted sympathy from everyone, including the desk clerk. "There, there, Mr. Hamato. You'll be fine by the evening." She clacked on the keyboard and handed him a card, "We'll see you next Monday, bright and early for your next filling!"
When Mikey landed in his seat, Raphael was called next. He patted Mikey on the head and kindly asked Kaitlee for his game back.
Fifteen minutes later, Raphael had a hop and a skip to his step. He even half-flirted with the desk clerk.
"We'll see you in six months for your next checkup, Mr. Hamato!" Boss!
Kaitlee was sitting on a wounded Mikey, blabbering about her two cats named Peanut Butter and Jelly, and Mikey was trying his best to give a damn.
"Bye bye, Kaitlee! Who are your favorite zombie mermaids?" Raphael waved to her as they left.
"From Malibuuuuu!" Door closed. Peace at last!
Limping home, Mikey slurred, "I'm tha one wif the besf teef! What dif you do?"
Raphael whispered, "I floss."