Day 29
Today I went to the dentist and it was awesome. At first, I didn't know how it would turn out as they stared by making small talk like, "Where is the pain? How much pain are you in? What do you study here?" I played along. Finally, the dentist turned to me after his 19th pain-related quiz and said, "Emily, you are confusing me." After that my visit was bliss. The climax being when my head was leaning against the chest of the dentist and he and the dental hygenist peered into my mouth, he called for yet another instrument. (He had already tapped my teeth with a metal stick, picked and poked, put dry ice on them and heat asking me all the while how much pain I was in.) When she handed him the next tool he said, "We have all kinds of torture devices." What a riot. I can't wait to go back even though I didn't get a free toothbrush he did say, "I was nice to meet you." (translation: I had fun fucking with your mind and mouth please give me all your money, sucka) God bless Canadian denistry. BTW, the entire thing cost less than a Days Inn hooker.
The busses have joined the rest of the world in trying to rid the chubby girl of her exotic fatness. I waited forEVER for them to pick me up and finally, started to huff it to the next stop, repeat this action for 20 blocks and you have some great cardio workout. Maybe I should tip them. Or maybe, they will promise to pick me up if I swear to a strict diet of rice cakes and air.
On my lively walk from bus stop to bus stop I popped into a dollar store. Inside the shady storefront lurked a wonderland of Halloween items. They had glow-in-the-dark rats, oversized chains, 29 wigs, slutty costumes, crepe paper, inflatable trees, and finally, as me and my cheap items were in line to check out I saw them...a bin full of rubber bats. I picked one up and held it by the string pretending it could fly and strained to remember a conversation I'd had in the recent past (too much pot for too long can fuck with your memory...or is it the booze). I remembered that a friend had said that back home he'd had a rubber bat hanging in his room or some such thing (you know just a regular, every day conversation). Anyway, the cashier glared at me and I slapped the bat on the counter.
When I got back to the Rez I had plotted a plan to sneak up to my friend's door and leave it hanging on the knob. As I climbed the stairs to his door (the bat out of sight) my heart pounded fast. I was gonna do it. And, get away with it. I tiptoed to his door and slid the string over the knob then ran down the hall. On the stairs I imagined him coming home and seeing it, never quite sure what his face would do. Only ten minutes later he walked up to me and a group of friends and inquired about the bat on his door. I proceeded to do my best acting job to date, but had I not been wearing sunglasses and he could've seen my eyes it would've all been over. I asked if it was a baseball bat and stated that the individual who did such a thing was "demented" and "fucked up". I made some excuse and walked away, still a suspect but perhaps not the dreaded bat-hanger.
When I got back to my room I thought about the deed I had commited, it was genius. Had I not had to chase down a bus and ride for half an hour I would go back and buy that entire basket of bats and bat the entire place one doorknob at a time. Then I thought about if it were reversed, had I come home to a bat on my doorknob I would surely have thought the culprit "demented" and "fucked up" so what does that make me?
Ahh, who cares when my loan check comes in I'm batting the place, getting a car, and going to the dentist every week.
-Canadian Castaway
No comments:
Post a Comment