Ben and Abigail's son, Matt, doesn't like the dentist...
Sam
xx

Seven year old Matt knew from the moment that his mother walked him into the latex-smelling waiting room that it was over. This was certainly the end of his days. In the back of the building he could hear that tiny drilling sound that is so quiet that it hurts. Knowing that his time was soon to be up, he cautiously approached the receptionist's desk with Abigail, holding her hand desperately.

"I'm here with my son, Matthew Gates," She said.

"Yes, please sit down," the receptionist replied. "It will be a few minutes."

These were the words uttered by every receptionist, and one of the many lies that are encountered in the dentist's office. Every human being on the planet knows these words for what they are. A 'few minutes' simply refers to 'whenever we feel like calling you back.' Matt sat down with a sigh, knowing it would be a while. This was the dentist's evil ploy to make his patients worry and stress before their time comes. From somewhere in the back, a poor, forlorn person moaned in pain.

Matt eyed the magazines on the small coffee table in front of him. Various magazines he had never heard of were populated on the surface. Matt did not pick them up. No one ever picked them up, for it was simply too awkward; too dangerous. One must consider that whenever any one of the number of people in the waiting room stands up, it is like being on a stage. Everyone's eyes become immediately directed towards the "stander-upper," and his/her face blooms with a red as dark as wine.

That is why Matt remained seated, holding onto Abigail's arm tightly. His knuckles were white with fear, and every breath was a rough, unsteady stream of air, taken like it was his last.

45 minutes later, a friendly voice called. "Matthew?" Abigail and Matt stood up, still clinging to his mother and refusing to let go, and walked towards the short, blonde woman who held a clipboard in her hand. The clipboard contained a manila folder, where, Matt presumed, his "files" were kept.

The woman led him into a room that gleamed with the sheen of metallic instruments. She directed him to sit in down in the soft, leather, reclining chair, and he followed suit, for everyone knows that it is certain death to refuse anything in the dentist's office. "The dentist will be in in a moment."

Ah, another falsity. Ladies and gentlemen, the dentist will not be in "in a moment." It will in fact take him quite a few moments to get to the room were the subject is being held captive. That is why Matt waited. His palms were growing quite sweaty, for doom was drawing nigh.

Eventually, the dentist entered the room. He held out his hand in a friendly gesture known as a "handshake." Matt wiped a streak of sweat onto his green t shirt and meekly shook the dentist's outstretched palm. The man in the white coat sat down next to the chair and used the foot controls to tilt it horizontally.

Matt was sweating quite profusely now, and the doctor sensed his nervousness. "It'll be alright, Matt. This won't be as bad as you think." The end of the dentist's sentence was punctuated by a scream of agony from the next room over. Matt swallowed the lump in his throat and managed a wan smile.

The dentist grinned back. His brilliantly white teeth leered at Matt, seemingly mocking him. The dentist held up his tiny little hook and mirror, and things fell apart.

He jumped up onto the chair, crouching down with his feet planted firmly into the leather, and unleashed a horrific yell. The dentist stood up in awe, dropping his Instruments of Horror. Matt let out a scream and swiped the side table with his entire arm, sending various dental tools scattering. The dentist was shocked, and stood with his mouth agape. Abigail simply stood in the corner with her arms folded. "No again..." She muttered. This was the third dentist she had taken him to that year.

Matthew hopped over the armrest of the chair and dashed out of the room into the hallway that was home to the exit that Matt was in search of. Unfortunately, he encountered a slight problem on the way.

The truth, my friends, is that the dentist's office is purposely built in order to confuse the people who enter it as much as possible. It is a maze of white walls, all of which appear the same. It was in these white walls that Matt was hopelessly trapped. They would soon close in him and take him back to "the chair," where the dentist would proceed to extract his innards.

He ran wildly through the depths of the office until, like a beacon in a thick fog, the exit sign glowed above Matt's head. He eyed the door, wondering if it was merely a trap, leading only to the room with "the chair" in it. He debated for a moment, and then realized that the nurses had turned the corner and were running towards him. He ran straight for the door and burst through, into the natural light of day.

Moments later, Abigail found her son sitting in the car, strapped in, ready to go home.