The Dentist Dodger

Happy Tuesday love bugs! I hope the beginning of the week is treating everyone well! Today’s post has been inspired by the phone calls I’ve been dodging for the past four months. Shockingly enough the calls haven’t been from ex boyfriends…it’s even worse than an ex boyfriend…the calls have been from the Dentist. A fun fact about me is, there is nothing I hate more on the planet than going to the Dentist. I make a concerted effort every day to take good care of my teeth. I think in my twisted mind the better care I take of my chompers, the more likely I won’t have to make a deal with the Devil, walk through the threshold of hell, and sit in that Satanic chair while getting my shit drilled.

Let’s be real I haven’t just been dodging the Dentist for four months…it’s been more like my entire life. There is something about incessant drilling that I can feel right in the core of my brain stem, that I just don’t find appealing. All of the shiny implements lined up ready to orally castrate me, the acrid scent of ammonia disinfectant masked by the putrid floral air freshener, and the scent of latex literally makes my fucking skin crawl. I know, I sound like a total drama queen but this is the realest real out there.

So, for the past four months straight Satan’s receptionist keeps calling me to book an appointment. The original excuses I was spewing were elementary to get out of going. My fake ailments to not land in Satan’s torture chair ranged from the common cold to traveling too often and not being able to set an appointment. Now that Satan’s receptionist is on to my bullshit, I have decided to go off the dental grid.

I have begun my military dental evasion mission by not answering when Satan’s receptionist calls. As time waned on, Satan’s receptionist was beginning to smell something fishy. I have now realized that I must take my stealth mission to the next level. I am now going to change my voice mail message to, “Hey everyone! You’ve reached Alexis-Lee, don’t bother leaving a message I moved to Costa Rica to live out the rest of my days at the sloth sanctuary”. Hopefully Satan won’t catch on to my brilliant ruse…but deep down inside, I know she will eventually catch me and I will be rendered helpless within the grasp of Satan’s unholy chair of tortures.


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