Speaking of Scary Things That Shouldn't Exist..

like Dentists, I've decided to relate to you my scary clown story. I've already told this a thousand times, so this is going to be the really crappy version. This really happened, I want you to know. It starts way back...
A long, long time ago, -like, since I was born- in land far, far away from here, -Grant, Nebraska, actually- there was a farm..
And on this farm lived Grandma Dody and Grandpa Bobby. A loving couple with a taste for Japanese and Chinese decorations... including a Buddha cookie jar. Anyways, Grandma Dody had a handmade clown from a dear friend. I must describe it to you so that you can understand the horror of this... thing.
It was big. Bigger than I, for a time. Well, more like long. And thin, its arms and legs were about an inch in diameter. He was made of yarn, crocheted. His "outfit" consisted of a gray color, with white pom-pom balls sewn on for buttons down the front. His hands were the shape of those evil, fingerless mittens, and white. So where his tiny feet. But his face, oh his face, was the most heinous.
White. No neck. Long. His eyes were black "x"s, and his mouth a blood red "U". The nose? Just a little flap of white. His hat? White and yellow. This face has haunted many a nightmare in my family.
Alright, now that you can sort of picture him in your head, the dull, murderous clown, I'll shortly explain the room he was in: He sat in a child-size rocking chair, in a room with a red-orange carpet. One wall had a huge Grandfather clock, and the other had mirrored tile, arranged so that everywhere you look you could always see the clown. (I know, right?) The orange couch had pillows that looked like eyes.. I have no clue as to why that was, but they were almost as creepy as the clown. Except that they couldn't survive the fire.
That's right. The house burned down. The clown's room was in the basement, and the house burned from top to bottom. No way was anything coming back from down there.
We went to visit my grandparents at the new house. I went to bed in the room they had set up for me. I looked up at the dresser and almost screamed, because there he was, smiling at me.
Yeah, I know, right? Not even a single singed string of yarn! (try saying that three times fast.)
Disclaimer: this IS meant to offend any clowns out there, I know your true colors, and one day I will expose you ALL!
JUST KIDDING PLEASE DON'T EAT ME.

The Most Evil of Evils... The Dentist

If you're as fearful of the dentist as I am... this probably isn't a good post for you to read.
I went to the dentist today. If you don't know, I'm very fearful of dentistry, and I hate it, too.
What's worse is the last time I saw him he had been calling me "the troublemaker". Yes, my brothers, he told me, were "angels" but I was the troublemaker.
I was there to have a cavity fixed. I have had five cavities and seven shots in my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I brush my teeth after every meal, and I floss once a day. I just have bad teeth. It stinks. Anyway, the only reason I agreed to go is because I've been wanting to straighten my teeth with braces forever. Well, I'm on my way and I'm freaking out, but not too bad, because he told me this was a small cavity. I handled the shot in my cheek like a champ. No crying, no complaining, and no anything.
It wasn't numb enough after the first shot, so he gave me another. It wasn't supposed to hurt again, but it did. That scared me a little. He also said that to dry up my mouth, I had to take this pill. But he gave me three. They all said "hope" on them.. which kind of freaked me out, honestly. Hope for what? That I won't die during my appointment? That he won't drill through the side of my head? I didn't ask.
So my mouth is dry and numb, and it's gettin hard to breath. I already have a lot of anxiety when I'm at the dentist, and this was no different, obviously.
The drill. The worst instrument used by the dentist. The noise that's like forks on a plate, the smell, and the site of smoke while it is IN your mouth... I have a panic attack every time I think about it. And today I'm almost positive he hit my nerve. Having your nerve hit with a drill is way worse than the shot, let me tell you. Then I got in trouble for jerking away because "that's dangerous". What a troublemaker I am. Another time I was sure he was drilling my cheek. That wouldn't have been good. And I know for a fact that the drill hit my tongue three times. Good thing it's still numb...
I talk like a weirdo, now, too. "Hey gahs... whasthhhupth?"
He showed me the tooth after he drilled in the mirror. What did he consider small? He drilled the entire inside of my tooth out! I'd hate to see have a big cavity...
I ended up wearing myself out, because every tool he inserted in my mouth I would tense up everything, and hold onto the chair's arms for dear life. One time he told me, "I'm not going to hurt you!" Yeah, right. If you become a dentist you must have some morbid passion for causing people pain. Just kidding, no offense to the nice dentists out there. Or mine.. if you're a blog reader and happen to see this... I sure hope not. Just in case.. I'm never going back. Kicking and screaming... never.
It's like a told my friend a few months ago, the only thing worse than a dentist is a dentist whose also a part time clown. Because the you know he's a murderer.
Or like I told my mom afterwards, "There's a reason we changed my old "Dentist Barbie" to "Evil Doctor Barbie" and rubber banded a gun to her hand."