I dreaded this day for weeks, br watching the black X on the calendar march ever closer, br regressing back to toddler years in my mind. br As I pull into the parking lot br I wonder who else is here for voluntary pain. br br The assistant walks me down the hall to the room. br It’s the one at the far end, surrounded by windows, br ensuring no possible escape br and insulating my shrieks from those br here for just a routine cleaning. br br My eyes tiptoe around my cell br darting from one sharp metal object to another. br It occurs to me that intelligent modern people br spend thousands to attend schools of high regard br to learn the trade of torture. br br Were they picked last for dodge ball? br If so, I am terribly, terribly sorry. br br The dentist enters, singing. br “Let’s get started, ” he says with a smile. br I wonder if my attorney has my latest will br and I remind myself to call my mother br if my speech survives intact. br br A pinprick later fur fills my mouth, br and he leaves me to gaze upon br advertisements for superior oral health. br They mock me, chiding me with the message br that it's all my fault. br br The radio is on, but will not suffice this time. br I plug in my headphones to drown out br this cruel world, and switch on a favorite, loudly. br Nothing left to do now but surrender br to The Chair and the guitars in my brain. br br But after a few peaceful moments of lying back, br staring blankly out the window at the autumn morning, br Novocain and music coursing through my body, br I suddenly realize that this could quite possibly be br the best part of my day.