Henry frowned to himself. "I don't see why he has to do this. The filling's fine, not really a problem. It doesn't even hurt. It's a little sensitive to heat, and I've had to give up anything with ice. . . "
"The filling's old? "
"Well, 1942. . . but there's nothing wrong with it. "
"Talk about make work. "
"My point exactly. In those days, dentists knew how to fill a tooth. Now a filling has a limited shelf life, like a carton of milk. It's planned obsolescence. You're lucky if it lasts long enough to pay the bill." He stuck his finger in his mouth again, turning his face in my direction. "See this? Only fifteen years old and the guy's already talking about replacing it.
"You're kidding! What a scam! "
"Remember when they put fluoride in the city water and everybody thought it was a Communist plot? Dentists spread that rumour. "
"Of course they did, " I said chiming in on cue. "They saw the handwriting on the wall. No more cavities, no more business. " We went through the same duet every time either one of us had to have something done.
"Now they've cooked up that surgery where they cut half your gums away. If they can't talk you into that, they claim you need braces. "
"What a crock, " I said.
"I don't know why I can't have my teeth pulled and get it over with, " he said, his mood becoming morose.
1 made the usual skeptical response. "I wouldn't go that far, Henry. You have beautiful teeth.
"I'd rather keep them in a glass. I can 't stand the drilling. The noise drives me crazy. And the scraping when they scale? I nearly rip the arms off the chair. Sounds like a shovel on the sidewalk, a pickax on concrete. . . "
"All right! Cut it out. You're making my hands sweat."

By the time I pulled into the parking lot, we'd worked ourselves into such a state of indignation, I was surprised he was willing to keep the appointment. I sat in the dentist's waiting room after Henry's name was called. Except for the receptionist, I had the place to myself, which I thought was faintly worriesome.  How come the dentist only had one patient? I pictured Medicaidfraud: phantom clients, doublebilling, charges for work that would never be done. Just a typical day in the life of Dr. Dentifrice, federal con artist and cheater with a large sadistic streak. 1 did give the guy points for having recent issues of all the best magazines.

From the other room, over the burbling of the fish tank, which is meant to mask the shrieks, I could hear the sounds of a high-speed drill piercing through tooth enamel straight to the pulsing nerve below. My fingers began to stick to the pages of People magazine, leaving a series of moist, round prints. Once in a while, I caught Henry's muffled protest, a sound suggestive of flinching and lots of blood gushing out. Just the thought of his sufftring made me hyperventilate. I finally got so lightheaded I had to step outside, where I sat on the mini-porch with my head between my knees.