"My pancreas?" I let out a sigh. "I don't

  • "My pancreas?" I let out a sigh. "I don't even know what the hell it is or what it does." The doctor walked over. Instead of comforting me he looked me right in the eyes and
  • whispered, "That's because you are a total dumbfuck." The doctor plunged the scalpel into my belly. Screaming, I ripped off the eye mirror thing and drove it straight into the meat
  • -cut that once was a famous pop star. What a demise for us both! Rivers of blood gulped out of my belly as the doctor laughed diabolically. The eye mirror thingy sat buzzing in the
  • sink. The evil doctor took an ollie to the face by the heroic skateboarding dental anesthesiologist! Yes, it was all an advert for even more expensive orthodontistry. Dr. Sock'em
  • 's Rockin' Root Canal Wreckers had quadrupled its business in the last two weeks, thanks to the new, evil dentistry advertising scheme. DDS's were selling as much as skateboards
  • , in-line scooters and those stupid shoes with wheels on the soles could generate in broken bicuspids and incisors. But then Rockin' Root Canal Weckers got Capt. Enamels attention
  • with a right-hook to the jaw. Capt Enamels shrieked. "What the devil are you're doing? I just got new implants." Capt. Enamels checked his pearly whites for chips in the mirror.
  • Sure enough, he hadn't brushed his teeth after munching those Pringles. "Pardon me!" he told his adversary, whipping out a mirror and a pocket toothbrush. Using his leftover Coke,
  • he brushed his teeth with a known concentration of phosphoric acid to remove Pringle residue and calculated exactly when to rinse. He did feel bad for the dental bacteria who might
  • end up in the drain, but he did not care. He knew it is going to be a new day that will finally bring a conclusion to his epic journey. He is finally getting married


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