The Novacaine werewolf

*Inspired by a Twitter misunderstanding*

They eyed each other nervously from across the waiting room.

“Great choice of um, decor,” he commented, twiddling his thumbs. She smiled back nervously, lowering her eyes back to the outdated magazine she was paging through. But it was true – instead of the innocuous posters of smiling molars she was accustomed to seeing adorn dentists’ waiting rooms, these were arty shots of the insides of mouths, in all their grimace-inducing glory: plaque build-up and cavities glinting in the well-lit shots, puddles of saliva pooling on pink tongues. Encouraged by her affirmation, he asked, “First time?”

Before she could answer, the door to the dental suite creaked open with a menacing stutter. A suave dark-haired dentist (clearly channeling dentist Carl from the second season of Glee) popped his head around the door and beckoned with a hasty finger movement.

Claire got to her feet, popped the crumbly magazine back on the pile of reading matter and made her way towards the dental chair – metal bits sparkling, leather bits clean. She perched on it sideways, feet dangling while Doctor Onofrio (dentists are doctors too, you know) snapped a set of rubber gloves onto his rather large and hairy hands.

“M-m-m-my … ” she trembled, “what big hands you have!” He chuckled heartily. “All the better to hold you down while I insert THIS,” he suddenly roared, pulling out by far the largest hypodermic syringe that Claire had ever seen – and as a drug rehabilitation counsellor, she had indeed seen quite a few. Lucky for her (and probably for you, dear reader) this was all too much for Claire and she fainted.

It was the realisation that her arm felt quite wet which snapped her to her senses again. Lovely. Drool all down her arm, and a suspiciously throbbing gum line despite her numb jaw. Doctor Onofrio was instantly at her side with a handheld mirror. “Want to see?” he asked while pressing closer. “Some of my best work yet,” he grinned with pride. She took the mirror from him and beamed at her new reflection, thinking “Just perfect.”

That’s where our story ends. Comments? Leave them below.

5 thoughts on “The Novacaine werewolf”

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