Routine dental examinations.
Every so often, such examinations are held in order to evaluate if dentists are doing their jobs correctly, which means some poor unfortunate soul is invited to attend an unforeseen session carried out by an unfamiliar dental person. It’s like jury duty; you just pray it never happens to you.
Futility! Excitedly rip open that nice brown envelope addressed to you, one cold autumn morning, and you find a letter that couldn’t be more apologetic about detaining you and putting you under the dubious scrutiny of some shaky dentist if it tried! You’re bribed, too, to the tune of £10—which is presumably some legal contract that invalidates your right to sue when, panicky at the glacial stare of the examiner, your newly-befriended dental practitioner stabs your tongue inadvertently, causing you to leap up and punch them in the face!
I’ll spend it on a scented candle and hydrochloric acid, for the driveway doesn’t sparkle as it should.
About me
I'm Jack. Sometimes my hair is untidy, riddled with goblins and smurfs. When I scream into the Grand Canyon, it inspires pained howling in wild dogs and wily coyotes, and compels all leaf-eating mammals to scuttle for higher ground in wait of the great flood. I think Goku is an existential paragon. My life's trajectory is adjusted towards becoming a hermit and dying alone somewhere on top of a golden mountain at sunset. Which is a jolly good innings, all told.
