Tuesday, October 30, 2007

The Prisoner, The Pony, And The Dentist

OK, so it's not The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I have trouble coming up with clever titles. Which you've all noticed, no doubt.

My #1 son is a prisoner at the school gym. Really. He dressed as a striped-uniform inmate for the Halloween Dance. Oh, that building is allowed to have Halloween. It ain't no Fall Festival Sock-Hop. HH has gone to pick him up. We'll see how things went now that he's unattached. The boy, not HH. I will have to consult my secret operatives who still operate in Basementia.

My Little Pony is in the doghouse. The sweetest of the sweet Hillbilly young'uns is in trouble for dawdling over his homework. It is only one page of math. He was told to do it at 3:30, on the way to the dentist. He didn't. He was told to do it as soon as we got home. He didn't. He was told to have it finished by the time I came in from my 30-minute walk. He didn't. After another twenty minutes, it still was not done. The Pony received a Hillbilly Mom tongue-lashing. He caved. He whimpered. He blubbered. He threw himself a big ol' pity party, complete with tears, pouting lower lip, puppy-dog eyes, sniffles, hitching breath, and head-buried-under-the-pillow. Did it melt the cold, cold heart of Hillbilly Mom? Let me answer for you: NO! The boy has been slacking with his arm in a cast. He has been writing left-handed for 3 weeks now, and it is legible. This paper was not. It could be because he completed it while lying on his belly on the couch, with the paper propped on his planner on a pillow, while watching SpongeBob. D'ya think? So tomorrow night, young Pony has to go back to the kitchen cutting block for homework, with the TV OFF! I hope he doesn't call the DFS hotline, what with all this abuse. Oops! That would be the #1 son, the natural-born lawyer, who would think of that tactic.

And speaking of OOPS! That is what my dentist said, with both hands in my mouth, when he dropped something or other that clattered off my teeth on the opposite side from where he was working. Not that it didn't happen the last visit as well. At least this time, it didn't fall to the back of my throat. Perhaps Mr. Dentist has the palsy. For sure, we know he has the dropsy. He even said, "Well, there's one thing you don't like to hear while you're in that chair. 'Oops!' And, 'Ohh oh!' Huh?" Of course, I had both his hands and that dropped thingy in my oral cavity, so I didn't answer him. I'm sure he just wrote it off to my Nitrous intoxication. But more likely, his mind had already skipped ahead to his next topic of conversation. "My daughter had a hayride this weekend. She had some fine-looking friends show up. All toned. They take care of themselves. They belong to Better Bodies. You know what they say: 'The best bodies money can buy.' " I guess they say that. I've never heard it. And he's way older than the hills, so don't think he's pervin' on those daughter-friends. They were probably in their 30s.

Now I am a dental office graduate, and don't have to go back. Until after the first of the year, when my insurance is good again. I have some crowns with my name on them. OK, they don't really have my name on them, that would be just a waste of money, because no one reads inside my mouth. But I need more crowns. Which are better than bridges. Just ask my mom.

Now I need to go check on My Little Pony, to see if he is bedded down for the night.

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