Thursday, September 18, 2014

The New Dentist

My name is Grace, and I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist.

I noticed his DDS diploma on the wall, which bore his full name. Suddenly, I remembered a tall, handsome, dark-haired boy with the same name had been in my high school class some 30-odd years ago.

Could he be the same guy that I had a secret crush on, way back then?

Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought.

This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to have been my classmate.

After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Morgan Park High School.

'Yes. Yes, I did. I'm a Mustang,' he gleamed with pride.

When did you graduate?' I asked.

He answered, 'in 1975. Why do you ask?'

You were in my class!', I exclaimed.

He looked at me closely.

Then, that ugly, old, bald, wrinkled faced, fat-assed, gray-haired, decrepit son-of-a-bitch asked:

'What did you teach?