by Ross Sharp

Over at Groupthink, Tongues ponders the benefits of a national dental health care scheme, The Greens, and killing a blind man’s guide dog

Every three or four months, I visit a periodontist for some maintenance.

For what seems to me to be about an hour, one of these sadists will scrape, prod, push, scrape, scrape, prod, push and scrape about in my cakehole with their David Cronenberg inspired instruments of oral torture until my toes threaten to dislocate themselves from my feet and my spine contorts and arches in a fashion that would be quite impressive if I were a trapeze artist with Circus Oz.

And when this treatment is ended, I stagger, sweat soaked, from Ms. Mengele’s horizontal chair of terror to the front desk of this little shop of horrors to pay my debt, to pay what I owe for the privilege of having suffered so.

“That will be $200.00 today, Mr. Sharp”.

“Eftpos out of cheque, thanks”, I reply as I hand over my card, and then I glance at the time and realise that I have not been there for much longer than twenty minutes.

That’s ten bucks a minute.

Fuck me dead, he thinks to himself in quiet awe and amazement …

Read the rest of this post at Groupthink …