Tortured
Looking up at the strip light on the ceiling. And that big circular operating light. Glaring down. My Iraqi dentist is wearing blue rubber gloves, safety glasses and a beige coloured hijab. What are those things in her fingers? Perhaps miniature weapons of mass destruction. The ones they never found. "Open wider for me please". That gurgling siphon thing sucks excess water and saliva from my mouth quite inefficiently for I am still close to drowning as I gulp like a pelican. "Are you all right?" "Arrr...arr...arr". Translated that means "Beam me up Scottie!" Kayleigh, the attractive sunbed bronzed dental nurse, fusses about bringing instruments and dental paste. I hope I remembered to zip up my flyhole. The place where I keep my fly. Saja drills into my skull. Grinding away like a stonemason. But I was against the post 9/11 invasion of Iraq! Don't punish me! It was Bush and Blair. Not me! Please! The torture will surely last forever...