So I'm sitting there in the dentist's office, because I need a crown, because I stupidly decided not to take care of my teeth back when I was a teenager. I've had a temporary on for about a week, and it's done fine; but now it's time to put the permanent cover on.
My dentist is a very nice lady of Indian descent, and she's working with a dental assistant. I'm laying in the chair, which is tilted almost flat, while the dentist is doing a little poking and prodding and cleaning, to make sure we get a good fit and nothing nasty gets trapped under the crown when they put it on. They have, at this point in the process, removed the temporary; so what's left of that tooth is rather exposed.
Being solicitous of my comfort, she asks: "Are you sensitive?"
"I cry at children's movies," I tell her. "Does that count?"
There is a long, long pause. Then she chuckles. "I've never had anybody say that," she admits.
"It doesn't count," puts in the dental assistant. "Those things are designed to make you cry."
Heh, that was great.
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