The Dentist: Chapter 3 Dr. Piccolo's blues
"It's not just about me and my dream of doing nothing, it's about all of us, together." –Peter from Office Space.
Piccolo dully finished his morning routine as he set the alarm system. He took the key from on top of the door frame as he remembered yesterday's encounter with the bitch. He put the spare key in his pocket and headed to his car. He bit his lip when he saw it, trying not to scream obscenities into the silent neighborhood. The tires were completely flat.
"That whore…" He muttered as he walked back up to his front door. He flipped out his cell phone and dialed the office, hoping someone was there already. After a few seconds, a female voice answered.
"Dr. Damioh's office, how may I help you?"
"It's me. I've decided that I'm not feeling well today, so please cancel any appointments for today and take the rest of the day off. Thank you." Piccolo smiled as he hung up. He hadn't missed work in years.
He wasn't missing it now, though.
He noted with agitation that it was beginning to snow again. He shivered and pulled out his house key.
-
Piccolo hummed as he spread another coat of paint onto the wall. He decided he might as well finish the room, since he liked every room to be in order, and this one had been gathering dust for months. He ignored the phone ringing down the hall, vowing that today, nothing was as important as finishing this room.
Several hours later, Piccolo stood at the door of the room and admired his work. He had peeled off the tape to the windows, and the floor protector as well. It looked pretty good for someone who barely did any DIY projects. The dentist leaned against the white door frame, remembering when he had first been looking at the house to buy. It had seemed so big and full of possibilities, he could barely wait to sign the contract to own the house. He had so many plans for it, so many dreams to be fulfilled. Now, he was thinking about selling it. He really didn't need all the space; It was a five bedroom, two-story Victorian that was made for a family.
That was the sole reason he bought the damned house in the first place.
Now, a child would probably be afraid to grow up in it. It was usually cold, dark, and painfully clean. Dust feared the house, and dirt ran in horror at the spotless abode. It was like a museum, one in which was very carefully tended, but without real care. Piccolo could see his own reflection in the kitchen floor tiles, and always in the streak-free windows. No little hand prints or foot prints marred the appearance of the sterile house. After the divorce, Piccolo had made it a personal mission to bleach anything his whorish spouse had touched.
Which had taken some time, and left him with a severe headache afterwards.
He scratched the back of his neck and checked the time. It was slightly past one, so drinking was now an option. He opened his fridge and found a beer. He took it out and rummaged in his cabinets for something to eat. As usual, there was hardly anything. He rarely ate at home, since he couldn't cook at all. He found nothing appetizing and decided to just phone for something. He concluded he felt like a sandwich, and called a good deli that knew him nearly by voice. He ordered a couple of rubens and was about to turn on the TV when he heard a knock on the door. Thinking it might be his wife again, he ignored it, until a masculine voice penetrated the foyer.
"Hey bro, have you gone deaf or something?" Piccolo groaned.
"Dammit, Nail, how did you get a key?" He asked, walking into the entry way. Nail took off his coat and tossed it on the coat rack. He smiled and patted Piccolo's shoulder.
"Man, you always left a spare, spare key under the mat. Genius." He remarked, taking the unopened beer from Piccolo. "How did you know I was coming, thanks bro!" He took out his car keys and popped open the bottle, catching the cap with his free hand. "Why aren't you at work?"
"Why aren't you?" Piccolo shot back, glaring at his twin sibling.
"Because no one argues with the boss. When I say day-off, I mean it." He took a drink of the beer and headed into the living room, shivering. "Damn, are you trying to see if you'll be able to survive if another ice age comes? Geez." He found a thermostat and turned it up, shaking his head. "I can practically see my breath in here, man! What's up with you, anyway?" He sat down on a couch, looking concerned. He took off his suit jacket and sighed. "You saw her again, didn't you?"
"Of course." Piccolo said spitefully as he went into the kitchen, retrieving another beer. He came back, looking pissed. "Wanted a loan to start something down in Kauai or something."
"With Bill?"
"Phil."
"Well, whatever. I hope you told her to piss-off." Nail grumbled, taking a swig. "She's the queen bitch in the royal screwing kingdom."
"Thanks, Nail." Piccolo said sarcastically. His shoulders drooped slightly as he sighed. "What about Christmas this year? We always celebrated it and threw parties, and everyone keeps asking what I'm doing for it this year."
"Say you're converting to Judaism or something." Nail suggested, shrugging. "Hell, I'm already tired of the holidays. I'm going on a cruise next week, set for the Canary Islands. Why don't you come? A little sun and warmth might do you good."
"I hate the ocean."
"You hate everything."
"So?"
"God damn, nevermind. No wonder Pop always worried about you, you're always so freakin' depressed."
"Going through a three month divorce will DO that to you, imbecile. You wouldn't know anything about relationships even lasting that long, though. You keep women for a week before they find out what an asshole you are!"
"Maybe it runs in the family, Picster! Ever think YOU'RE a damn asshole!"
Piccolo sighed and rubbed the space between his eyes. Nail glared at him before leaning back with a rather miffed expression on his face.
"… I'm sorry, it's just yesterday a kid brought it up again, and it really sucked to think about it." Piccolo muttered, slumping forward. "I'm not mad at you, Nail, just I hate my job and this city and basically everyone in it."
Nail blinked, his face changing to one of sympathy. "Maybe you should quit. You know, go back to school and get a law degree, become a judge or something. Never touch teeth again. As for everyone else, screw 'em! Society sucks, bro, and the system can't be beat. Might as well come to terms with it and move on."
"I guess. Still, I don't know why I can't just go to work and be happy."
"Pic, nobody likes their job. But don't worry, good things happen to regular Joe's too."
"… You like your job."
"… Well, that's because I partially own a hotel chain, stupid. I don't really work anymore, just 'pass judgments,' whatever the hell that means." He took a sip of his drink, thinking.
"You win. I'm acting like a little bitch, aren't I?"
"Uh-huh. You need to start crying though." Nail grinned, ducking as a pillow was thrown at him. "See, things aren't so bad, Pic. They'll get better."
-
"Sir, the child is frantic. What should we do? The mother doesn't want happy gas given to him. She says it's an attempt to drug people that shouldn't be legal." The small boy wailed in the dental chair, screaming that he wanted his mother.
"Ok, kid, it's only a cleaning." Piccolo started as he cautiously got closer to the crying youngster, then ducked as a small shoe was thrown at his head. He grabbed Goku and brought him to the side, seething.
"Dammit, Goku, I don't know how to calm down children. You're the one with a kid!"
After Nail left, Piccolo had new hope for his future. It was diminished as soon as he entered work the next day.
Now, five year-old Jimmy was getting his first real cleaning.
"Uh, ok I'll try." Goku said nervously as he walked back to the boy. He started talking in a silly, annoying tone to the kid, dancing like a damned Teletubbie. Piccolo covered his eyes and sighed.
Why me?
Suddenly, a cold hand touched his shoulder, catching his attention. It was the patient from the other day, smiling wryly.
"Looks like you could use a hand, Doc." She said, walking over to the kid. She pulled out a Gameboy and handed it to the youth, who immediately ceased his tears. Giggling, he began to play a game that brought un-natural silence to the room. Piccolo motioned for the girl to come to him, which she obeyed.
"What are you doing here?" He hissed, frowning. "You're appointment isn't until next week!"
"I came to say I'm sorry, PD. I figured it wasn't my place to say anything, and I apologize for stepping out of line." She extended her pale hand, grinning. "Besides, there's nothing worse than having a pissed off dentist filling a cavity for you, right?" She continued as Piccolo cautiously shook her small hand in his own large one.
"I guess." Piccolo answered, a little relieved. "You came all the way over to tell me that?"
"Well, I really don't live far away, and I was feeling a little guilty. That Irish blood, you know?" She said, elbowing him gently. "Anyway, I figured you didn't really talk about the divorce, and it's time you did." Piccolo blinked in surprise.
"You're my patient…" He said slowly, raising a brow.
"Very good, want a cookie?" She remarked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You need to talk about these things, you know. I hear you can get sick if you don't, and I kinda got worried about you."
Piccolo checked in the other room, seeing Goku handling everything. He stared back at the teen.
"If I talk with you for a little while, will you go away?"
She nodded happily, grinning. "Sure will, Doc! I'll meet you after five, ok? Be here!" She waved and walked away, leaving a dumb-struck Piccolo. He knew kids these days were weird, but this one took the cake.