Parting is such sweet sorrow

Yesterday I had the final session with my angel of pain, the woman I lovingly call the Ninja Bunny Dentist, although I’ve just been referring to her as the Bunny here lately. I left work early filled with a mix of sensations – elated at working a half day, dread of NBD’s needles and drills, deep-rooted longing to see her again, and a general ache knowing that this would be the last time this year. Normally I wear my best office attire and go straight to the Bunny, but today I decided to drop by my apartment for a quick change. My superhero costume was at the cleaners, so I had to choose a different approach.

I settled on a nice pair of white sneakers, blue jeans, and my black t-shirt with a death’s head skull and the words “Drop Dead” below. If cubicle slave Grant failed to impress her, maybe she would like evil metal attitudinal Grant better. If nothing else, it was good for an ice breaker. If she commented on the shirt, I would just tell her I was trying to get everyone into the Halloween spirit.

I arrived early and took my usual seat, but didn’t get an early glimpse of her. The office workers hailed me by name on sight, probably because I’m sending all of their kids to college. After a short wait, the Bunny’s hot assistant retrieved me from the waiting room, put me in a torture chair, and then placed the bib on me. It covered both the skull and logo on the shirt. So much for the ice breaker.

NBD swept into the room, classy and beautiful as ever. We talked a bit (both of us are doing fine), then she leaned me back and caressed my face. Okay, she put on some gloves and poked around in my mouth, but I’ve learned to appreciate whatever I can get. Things grew intimate between us. She hurt me the way I like to be hurt, aching pain with no permanent scarring. In a short time (too short) she said I was done and produced a mirror to see my new smile.

It was one of those mirrors women use to apply makeup, the type that proves they are completely insane. My flushed face appeared twice its normal size. I could see my five o’clock shadow arriving three hours early, and every pore looked like a pothole. My smile was perfect; the fleshy expanse surrounding it was not. If I ever had a problem with overconfidence, that cured it.

Her assistant told me to follow her to the desk, even though I knew the procedure and have the layout of the place memorized by now. I used the brief opportunity to look at the Bunny when we were both standing and she wasn’t wearing her mask. She’s smaller than I thought. I thanked her as she pored over my records, causing her to face me and smile. It wasn’t a polite perfunctory smile either. It was one of those broad grins that let me know I did something to please her, the type of smile that, if you ever see it, says you have a perfectly valid excuse for being alive that day. Still smiling, she turned and walked out of my life as I stood puzzling over what I had done to make her happy, besides paying her enough for a down payment on a new Porshe. I had forgotten about the T-shirt.

I caught up to her assistant, who turned and nearly ran into me when we got near the desk. She apologized saying I was so quiet she didn’t hear me following her. I guess the Bunny’s ninja skills partially transferred to me via osmosis. I wonder if I can cap teeth now? I’ll find out this weekend.

Since our last date didn’t involve Novocain and only cost me half a month’s rent, I went to the House of Chan for a late lunch. It’s a difficult place to find, but well worth the effort. I usually eat dinner there when the place is staffed by the elder Chans. Today for lunch they had a room full of savvy yuppies being tended by some really hot Chinese waitresses in black outfits and sandals. The one who brought my order was particularly sexy. Zaftig and raven-haired, she spoke to me in perfect American with a trace of an accent lingering on her shapely lips. I can tell my future is going to include a lot of Chinese food for lunch.

One door closes, another opens. Good is bad, bad is good, all the stuff’s the same.