There is nothing more terrifying than a trip to the dentist. Who really wants to have a stranger play around with their teeth? Definitely not me. I really don’t mean any disrespect towards the dentist occupation, but they are just too scary for me. I am one of those people who doesn’t like being told what is wrong with me, physically. Of course it is necessary to be told what is wrong with me, but I hate it. I have been told many times that this is the mark of the coward but I don’t care. The only person in the world that I know of who enjoys visits to the dentist, is my esteemed colleague Mr. Graveline. Don’t get me wrong, he is an excellent human being, that being said, he is also a New York Yankees fan. I don’t want to get too off topic, however the dentist’s office is not a place I like to think about. About a week ago, I had my semi-annual visit to the dentist’s office at tooth-hurty P.M. in the afternoon and I was informed that I am going to have my wisdom teeth removed this summer. …… …… That sounds fun… Remember, while I was being told this, the sound of a screaming child getting teeth pulled was audible. Like I said before, I really don’t mean any disrespect towards dentists, they do a great thing (I suppose) for us, but they’re kind of like spiders. You know, they fix our teeth and give us supernatural powers, but they also have a painful bite and nobody particularly wants to encounter one. Particularly not me. I guess I can’t complain though, I only visit the dentist twice a year and my dentist is nice enough, and I’ve also been there enough times to know the drill. The drill isn’t fun though. Not at all. It’s sharp and it hurts.