Dating : Routine Dental Cleaning

I went to the dentist last week after avoiding going for the entire pandemic. Been about 16 months, I was expecting for my dentist to tell me I had like five or six cavities.

The dental hygienist did all her scraping and cleaning and fidgeting with my mouth, poking and prodding me with this scraper and that pick. She kept saying “this doesn’t look right” over and over, but when I’d try to open-mouth ask “wha?” to her, she just would move on to the next tooth.

The dentist came into the room, he looked at the hygienist. She nodded her head to the side and they stepped out of the room and spoke for a few moments. My dentist walked back in and sat on his chair. He grabbed a lever on the side of my chair to sit me up.

“David, I have some bad news for you.”

“Okay,” I said, not knowing what to expect.

“Your teeth are slowly turning into eyes.”

“…”

“It’s called oculi dentes mutatio and it’s fairly rare. There is no known cure and most people develop crippling mental disorders because of all the new visual inputs overloading their brain.”

I felt dizzy, like the chair was spinning around and the floor was stretching out a thousand feet in front of me. I started to see a third line of sight entering my vision, a blackness. A forever blackness.