Just Relax?
Why don’t people like visiting a dental surgery?
Okay! Okay! One at a time. Such commotion, honestly.
Given your reaction, I think I had better say why,
Or at least certain disturbing elements identify.
How about those needles for one — they’re rather sharp, aren’t they?
And intimidating, even scary, when coming our way.
Do they need to be so lengthy, and waved about like that,
And who’s fooled by those smiles, and all that, “You’ll be okay,” chat?
No, that nasty needle’s coming our way despite it all;
“Just a wee prick,” they say. Now tell me, who for such would fall?
Yet, mouth wide open, we let them do their thing, and they do!
And you guessed it. It’s no mere prick. Seems like they’ve impaled you.
To add insult to injury, they’ve more mean looking tools,
Which once again, despite all their banter, nobody fools.
After all, we’ve been there before, and know such won’t be fun,
And oddly, only think of fleeing after work has begun.
Perhaps we’re just good sports, or is it fear pinning us there,
While they drill, prod, push, yank, pinch, and inside our numb mouth peer?
“Is it hurting?” — they ask. But tell me, how can we reply,
When fingers, swabs, and other foreign things, won’t let us comply?
When they’ve finished with us, and stunned like, we vacate the chair,
They smile sympathetically, then point to the cashier.
Referred pain they call it, for now it’s traveling elsewhere,
Given our precious dollars are beginning to disappear.
Well, how did I do? Feel better now? Oops, silly old me,
Filling you in is one thing, but such details — how scarrrrry.
But to be fair though, what would we do without dentistry,
And who’s the real culprit? Dentists? Or pockets full of candy?
Just relax? Yeah, right.
By Lance Landall
Food Fads
Have you ever wondered what certain folk might like to eat?
For example: If asked, would a jeweller say, “Silver beet?”
Would electricians say, “Currants,” would surgeons say, “Parsnips,”
Would a spy say, “Pecan nuts,” would a woodcarver say, “Chips?”
Would psychiatrists say, “Blueberries,” accountants say, “Beans,”
Would a painter more than likely gravitate toward greens?
Would twins say, “Pears,” would bankers say, “Cashew nuts and chickpeas,”
And would a plumber say, “Leeks,” or a photographer, “Cheese?”
Would Eskimos say, “Ice-cream,” would weightlifters say, “Raisins,”
And come to think of it, are feminists anti-mandarins?
Would rock climbers say, “Walnuts,” would courting couples say, “Dates,”
Would pool players say, “Cucumbers, dished up on green coloured plates?”
Would gardeners say, “Prunes,” would percussionists say, “Beetroot,”
Would a batsman shun vegetables in favour of fruit?
Would a goldsmith say, “Carrots,” would comedians say, “Corn,”
Would dentists say, “Candy floss” — hey, who took mushrooms off my lawn!?
By Lance Landall
Clear As Mud
And “Bob’s your uncle,” they say — well, he isn’t, and that’s that,
And why tell folk with good eyesight they’re as “blind as a bat?”
Yes, these odd things folk come out with really bamboozle me,
Like, “She’ll be right,” which simply begs the question, “Who is she?”
Some say they’re “down and out,” when clearly, they’re up and about,
Or they state they were “left hanging in the air,” which I doubt.
When asking directions, some people say, “Follow your nose,”
As if one wouldn’t — unless of course, they’re “couch potatoes.”
“I feel like a fish out of water,” some cry, but how’d they know?
And I’ve heard someone shout, “He’s in the doghouse!” — pooooooor Fido.
Some say, “She’s feeling the pinch” — well, who wouldn’t, a pinch hurts,
And I’ve heard it said, “He’s on a knife edge” — boy, that disconcerts.
Some moan they’re “in a jam,” or “a pickle,” which is hardly true,
And I’ve yet to see someone who’s actually “in a stew.”
Others say, “She’s green with envy,” or that she’s “tickled pink,”
Or that “pigs might fly” — honestly, what on earth is one to think!
Say, if you make concrete decisions, are you “set in your ways?”
Oh dear, I think this could “get out of hand.”
By Lance Landall
