Dmitri the Demon Driller

Dmitri the Demon Driller 

My computer plinked an alert sound when I turned I turned it on and 5.30 am. 

Daf- Dentist 8.30a.m.  

That was the unwelcome message that assaulted my bleary eyes. Oh well, my six month period since my last visit to the dentist was up. Still that was later. First coffee whilst I checked my email. Then get ready to go swimming in the town pool on the sea front. That would take care of 6.30- 7.30a.m. For swim training rather than a leisurely splosh up and down that most people would call exercise. Then a quick shower plus the changing room chatter. Normally I would go out on my bike for another hour after swimming but there would not be time for that before offering my innocent tombstones into the charge of Dmitri the Demon Driller, that is the less than kind name we call him at home.  

It seems only fair that since he is allowed to terrorise and torture me every six months without involving the law, I think it only fair that I give him a bit of a hard time back. 

I pop my head round the door and greet him sweetly, “Hello Dmitri, I see you have a new assistant”. 

“Yes, you will meet her in a moment”, he replied in his Russian accent. 

“Did you scare the other girl away” I gently tease. 

“No” a breath, “No, why you say that to me”?  

He went into an explanation that she has had a baby and will be back in September.

He gestured for me to mount the torture chair. He shoots over seated on his on the little chair with wheels and stops, glaring into my ancient eyes.

 

“Why you say bad things and call me names”? 

“I call you Dmitri the Demon Driller, is that what you mean”? 

“Yes, why”? He asked pretending to look hurt. 

“You’re the Dentist man”! Just a tick before I assured him, “Nobody likes the dentist,  fair do’s”.