Guest post from my dad: Dentist Pants

Another guest post from Daddles.  Again, please comment if you want to see more.  I've got a few more in the in-box waiting to post!
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 Today I am wearing my dentist pants.

    That's what my family and friends call them.

They look like any other pair of khaki slacks with those pleated fronts, but this pair has no little tab to pull the zipper.

    I knew it was about to break off when I put them on to go to the dentist's office, but who would think that it almost got me arrested.

    They gave me an early-morning appointment.  It was before most humans even get up.  So Ihad a few cups of java to get the day going.  The dentist gave me three shots of pain killer and told me to wait in the chair until it took affect.  Well, you know what happens when you drink coffee...an hour or so later you need to pee like a race horse... and I did (need to pee).

   I got up and looked around for the bathroom.  Then I remembered that it was in another part of the office...the

part that was seldom used anymore but still had all the equipment...kinda like me.

    I did my business, but the little tab came off in my fingers when I tried to tug the zipper up.  Well, I couldn't go trapesing through the office with my fly down, so I found a little tray of those sharp pickers next to a vacant chair and went to work on getting the zipper up.

    Just my luck that a little dental assistant happened by, stopped and stared at me in horror. 

    "What are you doing with that dental pick?"  she asked.

     I really couldn't talk coherently because, by now, the pain killer numbed every nerve in my mouth, throat, nose and ears.

  

    "Ahm fishing mah zippa.  Tryin ta get it up with da 'lil pick..." I mumbled quite honestly.

    "Oh my God, that may have to go in someone's mouth today," she said. 

    I wasn't sure at first what she meant, then I realized she was talking about the dental pick.

    "Ahlll wath it off, but ah hadda get it fished...." I said and headed back to my side of the building and the safety of my chair.

    " I oughta call security," she yelled at my back.

    "Go ahead, you don have thecurity!" I said over my shoulder.  Then I began to think about whether that guy in the blue uniform did the whole mall or just Sears and gee, did he have a gun?

     When I got back to my cubicle (I know which one it was because of the Ansel Adams photo on the wall "Shades of Light"), a lady was sitting in my chair. 

     "Wha are yoo doing in mah thair?" I asked.  She look horrified, but answered anyway.  "Ahm theposed to git

a fillin' fished."  They got her with the same pain killer, I fear.

      Anyway they finally found another chair for me.  It wasn't quite the same because it had a cheap Monet print on the wall. God, how I hate impressionists.

      They got the security guy from Sears, but by then I had blended into rest of the prone patients with the sucking tube hanging out of their jaws and the green striped bibs chained around their throats...

     I can't bear to throw out those pants