Sorry about the delay in this next instalment of the thrilling adventure of the awkward child and the Dentist/malignant Psyhiatrist, but I've been busy being sick with something I suspect to be the flu, and I don't entirely trust myself when I have the flu. Its effects aren't immediate; its takes a few days for it to kick in, but I soon begin to do strange things. Believing things that aren't true is a good example: once when I had the flu I thought that I was a troll and was just about to munch on some delectable anthracite when I came to. Realising that I had some real nice coal in my hands, I decided to burn it and I relished its clean burning flame.

Anyhow I should continue with the tantalising, tickling, tunnel visioning, testifying, testicalling tale. (The duke of Quilts and Wilts guarrentees all above words are actual words...(not a guarentee)).

Where was I? Ah yes! I had just entered the hell of confectionary when the dentist quickly ushered me into the room he had just exited. He asked me to sit in his chair, which he quickly adjusted by some electronic means, and the assistant placed a bib around my neck (oh the shame! nightmares of my infant life rushed into my head and I fell into a coma. Luckily, it lasted only as long as it takes one to blink so nobody noticed, although they were confused by my sudden 5 o'clock shadow and drool leaking out from between my lips) and some glasses to protect my eyes from the lamp.

I crossed my ankles.

'I'll just get you to open your mouth' said the dentist. And he did.
With quick percision he stuck his fingers into my mouth and grasped the crowns of my molars, his gloved hands tasted awful and felt worse against my tounge. Drills and doctors, suckers and screws, wads and wogs entered my mouth over the next 50 minutes. Well, maybe not wogs. Unless he/she was really quick. Or the dentist was a wog. I don't think he was. Slowly I got more and more irritated at the whole scenario, and the fact that the dentist's stomach was pressed up against my ear so I could here him digest his last meal didn't help.

I uncrossed my ankles.

I looked around to distract myself from the proceedings that annoyed me so much. I decided to stare directly at the lamp. Then suddenly, the lamp became an eye, and it called to me to talk to it, to unburden myself by confessing everything that I had ever done. I wanted to grasp its handles at the corners of its eye, and bring it close to my lips so I could whisper to it without the dentist hearing. Oh gosh! I thought, I must have the flu!

I crossed my ankels.

On reflection though I began to suspect the dentist, not the flu. I suspect that he drove me to the brink of sanity in order to get me to reveal myself to him. I suspect that he suspected that I had a secret identity. I suspected that he was so good at it he must have studied psychiatry, hence the title of this tale.

I uncrossed my ankles.

'There we are, all done. That took awhile didn't it?' Did I hear a note of disappointment in his voice?
I sat up and left, asking him to bill our account, my mum would pay later.

It was raining outside. I sighed. I was going to get wet on my way home. With a short run and jump, I flew home.

Even superheros have dental problems...