Gas her

Did I tell you about my traumatic experience at the dentist?

No?

Okay here goes:

I've never been afraid of the dentist. Not even after watching Little Shop of Horrors. I don't have dreams about my teeth falling out, and I don't mind needles, and I floss every day. Sounds like a recipe for the perfect dental patient right? You would be correct.

However, this was not the case last Friday.

Last Friday, I punched my dentist.

You heard me! I. Punched. My. Dentist.

As if that isn't bad enough, I punched her while her giant needle was inside my mouth.

I wish I could say it was an "in yo face," "don't mess wit ma teef" "I'm gon cut you" moment, but it wasn't.

While her needle was in my mouth, she hit a nerve and my arms involuntarily flew up and punched her.

Luckily no one was hurt. Wait a minute. I take that back. I was hurt! It hurt dadgummit. It hurt real bad!

But the dentist was okay. She gave me some gas to calm me down and to make me stop apologizing.

I bet she has a black eye.

Not really, but I guarantee they wrote "Gas her. Gas her everytime." on my chart.