I don't know about you, but Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was NOT too happy to get an email proclaiming:
FAT REMOVAL DURING YOUR LUNCH HOUR!
There are several assumptions at play here. First of all, that Mrs. HM has FAT! Sure, it's true. But that's pretty presumptuous of the dentist who once saw the #1 son ONE TIME for a consultation. And what's a dentist doing removing FAT, anyway? Technically, he's an orthodontist. Which still does not qualify him to remove my alleged FAT. In my opinion, anyway.
What's he gonna do? Lop off my FAT? Like three blind mice's tails, with a carving knife? Is he going to inject me with numbing stuff first? Where's he taking this fat from, anyway? I could be temporarily disabled while that shot wears off.
Or maybe he's gonna put me through an old-style washing machine wringer. Or twist me, until my FAT is squeezed out though my pores. Like pasta through this Dolly Mini P3 machine at :45 seconds.
Also, he's assuming that I have a lunch hour. Sweet Gummi Mary! I'm retired, man! I have a lunch THREE-HOURS! No need to hurry like I'm at a Semi Weekly Meeting of the Newmentia Lunch Time Think Tank, with only 22 minutes to make myself FATter. I can take my leisurely time, savoring that gas station chicken at will.
What's he gonna do with this FAT, anyway? Is he going to give it to me to take home, perhaps in a little cardboard Chinese carryout container with a metal handle? You know. So nothing nefarious occurs with any DNA I might leave behind. AND it probably saves him hazardous waste disposal fees.
But what if he KEEPS my FAT? And uses it to plump up the lips of some not-FAT-enough person, who gets an email saying:
FAT INJECTION DURING YOUR LUNCH HOUR!
Or he might even put my FAT in somebody else's butt! Somebody who is butt-challenged. Unable to keep up her pants. Unable to sit without her bones grinding into the chair. Somebody who routinely slips right into the toilet because she has no butt. Somebody who cried because she had no butt, but then she saw Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's FATty buttocks at the dentist's office on her lunch hour.
I just don't know. I think I might need to move that contact into my 5PAM folder now...
7 comments:
Are you sure he's really a dentist? Maybe his mother just named him Dentist, sort of like Judge Reinhold!!
What ELSE could that dentist be doing, while he's working on a person's teeth and their fat?
Sioux,
I'm pretty sure he could measure you and take orders for The Good Feet Store.
Talk about multi tasking! Maybe it is a fat sucking doctor brought in to work on fat sucking while the dentist fits your braces. Actually, I think my dentist should offer a pedicure during dental procedures. You could have a foot massage and get your cavities filled at the same time.
I had never thought about what they do with anything that has your DNA. If your were planning a murder, you could use that DNA to implicate someone else ......
fishducky,
Heh, heh! That's a possibility. He's probably just glad she didn't name him Fat Sucker.
***
Kathy,
Wow! You ARE an evil genius! If I ever overhear a detective discussing a case, like, "Looks like the perp left some fat cells behind," I'll think of you. Because, you know, you might have been strewing around somebody else's DNA that you casually snuck out of the dentist's office after your foot massage.
Toenail clippings and spit, too. Remember when you had a spit sink next to you in the dentist chair?
Kathy,
That's right! I guess it's been a while since I went to the dentist! But come to think of it, the last time there WAS NO SPIT SINK! I remember that now, even though I was under the influence of laughing gas.
Post a Comment