The dental hygenist takes her minty tasting gloves out of my mouth.
Suddenly I shoot a thin line of saliva up onto the air, like an Annie Sprinkle art piece, but from my mouth.
“Wooo!” she says.
“I am the spitting cobra!” I say in a faux Asian accent.
My mouth gets filled with rubberized fingers again. She probably sees this a lot.
4 thoughts on “The Hissing”
good timing, i just saw my dentist today. my first visit to him was a bit odd, in that he spoke as if my teeth were individual people who needed my care in order to survive (no, i’m not kidding), but today we discovered we knew some of the same people and shared taste in music and movies. he kept hauling instruments out of my mouth so i could reply to him (grrrrehm, last pogo, glergh, sleeper, not bananas), but i was polite and didn’t spit on him.
I’d hate to work in the kind of job where stuff like that becomes mundane!
“like an Annie Sprinkle art piece, but from my mouth. ”
That’s the sort of analogy that is going to give me nightmares. Beautiful.
I hope your hygenist isn’t Asian… Or worse. Faux Asian!