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dentistry

Original: dentistry on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal

Transcript

Panel 1:
Dentist (a bald man in a white coat): Have you been flossing regularly?
Patient (a man with orange hair): Regularly, in the sense of a consistent rate?

Panel 2:
Dentist: It's just that your gums—
Patient: I'm not one of your pushover patients. Lemme tell you about gums. My diet consists entirely of pointy tortilla chips and sour candy straws—

Panel 3:
Patient: Listen, dentist. I don't go to a mechanic to hear about how my car is a jalopy.

Panel 4:
Patient: I have to supplement my diet with iron due to daily blood loss from my face.

Panel 5:
Patient: If I had the desire or wherewithal to change, I would do it. As I do not, I expect you to go in there and do stuff until I can go back to devastating every surface inside my mouth on an hourly basis.

Panel 6:
Patient: I don't care if you have to consult an architect or a philosopher just to imagine some way to rebuild my ruined oral cavity— JUST DO YOUR JOB!

Panel 7 (LATER...):
Patient (holding a bill): What in the— How is dentistry so expensive?!

Votey:
Close-up of the patient's mouth, blood dripping from his lips.
Patient: They're not even real doctors

Alt text

A six-panel comic in which an orange-haired man berates his dentist. The bald dentist asks if he has been flossing regularly; the man deflects, then launches into a tirade insisting he is not a pushover patient. He brags that his diet is entirely pointy tortilla chips and sour candy straws, says he doesn't go to a mechanic to be told his car is a jalopy, and notes he supplements with iron because of daily blood loss from his face. He declares he has no desire to change and demands the dentist 'go in there and do stuff' so he can keep devastating his mouth hourly, even if it means consulting an architect or a philosopher to rebuild his ruined oral cavity—ending with 'JUST DO YOUR JOB!' A final 'LATER...' panel shows him holding a bill, indignant: 'What in the— How is dentistry so expensive?!' In the votey aftercomic, an extreme close-up shows his bleeding mouth, blood dripping down his chin, as he mutters, 'They're not even real doctors.'

Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.