Just my (AGAIN, FICTIONAL) imagining of what happened to David After Dentist later in life.
When I was seven, I went to the dentist.
They had to give me quite a lot of drugs.
To knock me out and then to numb the pain.
And afterwards, I tried to count my fingers
But everything was blurred. You had four eyes
I wasn’t sure if this was real life.
At fourteen, all I wanted was a life
But everyone saw “David After Dentist”
That moment seen by millions of eyes
The joke at school was “David is on drugs”
Each morning: “OK now… I have two fingers”
My classmates chorused. It was such a pain.
But soon I found a way to numb the pain.
At twenty-one I loved my social life
Though I could count successes on the fingers
Of one hand, still, I was “David after Dentist”!
I partied lots. I took a lot of drugs
And did my party piece for doting eyes.
They loved it when I said “you have four eyes”
At twenty eight it should have been a pain.
But me? I didn’t care. I liked the drugs
You really didn’t like the way my life
Was going, when I could have been a dentist!
A doctor, even! I gave you the finger,
And said that you had not lifted a finger
To help me. You had laughed and rolled your eyes
And filmed me in the car after the dentist.
I said that you had caused me so much pain
At 35, I felt left out of life
And so, I blocked the sadness with more drugs.
And you cannot complain that I take drugs
It’s immature to try and point the finger
And say that I have compromised my life.
It’s bad enough, without the prying eyes,
The mortifying, constant nagging pain
Of having to be David After Dentist.
This is my life: I’m loved when I’m on drugs
I hate that dentist with his latexed fingers
You have four eyes. And I have no more pain.
Tom Juniper Poetry 