"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

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