The Halloween Dentist

The town prepared for Halloween the likes of which no one had seen. The candy shop was selling lots and little babies in their cots were salivating on their nappies the older ones, those walking chappies were busy sneaking from the cupboard the treats put there by Mother Hubbard. The atmosphere was one of joy for every girl and every boy and when the sun had finally set on hidden pets below each bed they started roaming in the street repeating often, 'trick or treat'. But, even on domestic soil there often is one who would spoil the innocence of candy snatching as if it were an illness, catching by great surprise the little kids right in the middle of their bids to get what would improve their mood through glucose, which is yummy food and, simultaneously destroy the dental health of girl and boy. Thus, on that night the local dentist who was a vegan, and adventist ran out in a crescendoed rush while brandishing a giant brush. 'You people, do you have no shame? And is, to you, it all the same if teeth fall out and gums go black when strepto's go on their attack I say forbidden be the sweets and no more word on trick or treats.' He took his giant brush and brushed meanwhile the audience was hushed. He swept all candies in the gutter they heard him grunt and spit and mutter and in the end no one objected because fluorescent light reflected from the big brush, also the dentist was, for a Seventh-Day-Adventist, a huge and muscle bound young Doc he stood there, solid as a rock. But, things don't always come out right no candy passed, from that one night the lips of any, stores refused to order some and thus be used. Next Halloween they had forgotten about the sweets, but not one rotten or otherwise defective tooth had been detected. Hold on. Struth! The dentist's overt altruism had backfired like communism. His instruments had badly rusted he couldn't buy, though truly lusted after the big Mercedes Benz, so down he sat, to make some sense of what had buggered up his life. He did relent and asked his wife. She was the one for the Mercedes and did not like to go per pedes. And, unbeknownst to man and God she'd given to herself the nod and opened up in their big attic a shiny, new and automatic machine to make her tons of candy. Which, close to bancruptcy, was handy and on the Sunday after dinner he spoke to them about the winner that science had discovered just and he explained that humans must eat sweets to reach a ripe old age (he wore his bow tie and looked sage) he also, right away revealed (that's when his little daughter squealed) that foresight had brought importation here, to an undisclosed location. And that all citizens would test which colours and which tastes be best a weekly dental check was needed to ascertain that none exceeded the limit of what was allowed and that his wife (so well-endowed) would need a big automobile for housecalls and the right appeal. Today, the town's small girls and boys play with their pets and with their toys. The pets are welcome to eat sweets because the Doc says nothing beats the rise of sugar in their veins and monthly he removes the stains and scrapes the roots and gums, he planes the mandibles of cats and dogs writes measurements into their logs. And if you are, like me a cynic go take a look at his new clinic.