Why’s a dentist like me tied up to a chair, getting beat up by bouncers who’ve seen more than their lifetime’s share of old-crotch-sweat-polished stripper poles in the backroom of the sleaziest strip club in town?

Right.  I was looking for someone from the missing persons list.

But that still won’t provide enough exposition to the current quandaries of this oral hygienist — I mean, I was pulling out wisdom teeth just this morning!

Let’s back up a bit — during the morning, wearing my pristine white lab coat and mouth guard, I’m a dentist.  At night, while trying to forget hours of watching people’s teeth to do their confession to me?  I’m nothing.

I do have friends — oh I do!  None of the “will you take a (FREE) look at my son’s teeth?” types — instead, the types that exist in Dentists’ Online, a forum I frequent.  When I get tired of talking about teeth in the clinic, in the seminars, in the conferences and the toothpaste commercials, I engage in some off-topic talk — it’s like group therapy.

There was a topic posted earlier today — something about a missing girl.

I’m sure I’ve seen the girl before — she was with one of my patients the other day.  Burly man — the patient, not the girl — she was wearing a yellow tank top and a pair of those super-short … shorts when she asked how her boyfriend was doing.

Not that it’s any of my business on a Thursday, but I had nothing better to do — so I looked at the burly man’s records.  I felt like a spy.  This was exciting — stepping out of comfort zones is all the rage now, ennit?

He lived where he worked.  The sleaziest strip club in town.  Upon entering, you could tell that no amount of Photoshop would make this place look glamorous, or right.  Construction workers straight from the job and underaged boys burning through their parents’ money were watching girls perform naked contortions in the dark.

I was seated in the far-right corner when an older woman approaches and asks which girl I like.  I spot the missing girl and ask for her

“She’ll be with you shortly,” said the woman, gesturing for a tip.

I’d like to take these few brief moments to ask myself what I was doing there, in the far-right corner of a strip club, burning money on overpriced drinks in questionably-clean glasses and stale peanuts with a girl who must’ve ran away for a revolution-turned-rebellion?

If you’ve read this far then you’d know that I end up tied to a chair, getting thrashed for hassling the girl, and how apparently, nothing is any of my business.

“Don’t come near her again, understand?!” shouts the burly man.  I get punched in the face.  This must look funny in slow motion.

This happens a few more times.  The other big men take turns.  I wake up a few blocks away, bloodied and horrible.

***

The chemicals were easy.  I have all sorts — the kind that makes you fall asleep, the kind that numbs the tug at the gums — I even have a license for them.

Now I’m not a violent person — but I wanted to pull out this semi-sedated-burly-man-strapped-to-a-dental-chair’s teeth.  With the claw-end of a hammer.

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