Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The sleeping teeth therapist episode 3


For the last two weeks, Ros was having arguments with Brian Worrell, who was a coca cola addict and he had loads of cavities with some teeth rotting away, and despite her boss considering the pill will work for Brian, Ros says that the teeth are pretty bad, his mum and dad, who he lived with were prepared to pay as much as they want to fix his teeth, but if Brian doesn't give up or cut down on Coke, there is not much that Ros can do, anyway she was starting to wonder what can she do, and then Brains came to her, and said he has the resources to fix every one of his teeth and keep doing so whether he gives up coke or not.
Ros wondered exactly how he can, baring in mind she still doesn't know how he does it, she just prescribes the pill, and she can't understand that, nor will her patients, and Brains said send Brian to me, I can fix his teeth and keep fixing them, and Ros said, mate, you haven't even seen them yet, you don't know if it will cure him, and Brains said, well,yeah, but when I was alive, I drank too much coke, maybe that is what killed me, I dunno, and it was me drinking Coke, was the reason that I had to be the skies official dentist, please send him to me.
So the next day, Ros went into work and her first patient was Brian, and she discussed the pill option with him, and Brian was saying he heard this on the TV, and yes, he will be willing to give this a try, it will be cool, he thought, and he took the pill home and when his parents first knew about this pill, they went over to Ros's surgery very angrily saying how can a pill do this and she argued with reception for 15 minutes before Ros came out to try and explain to Brian's mother, and of course she knew nothing about how this works and Ros figured that it sounded to unrealistic to tell the truth, and ended up saying, just trust me on this, it's his only option, his teeth are too rotten to save, and there are a lot chemicals in this pill, to work for your son, Brian, I am sorry, but Brian's teeth, really got really bad.
Brian's mother left the dentist very angrily, not really at Ros, cause it's not her fault that her son drinks too much coca cola, she really wants her son to try harder to look after his teeth more, because she believed in being healthy, the natural way, and it's hard to see a son who needs a stupid pill to completely clean his teeth.
When she got home she went into Brian's room and Brian was fast asleep, which was unusual, because he never sleeps during the day, but what happened was Brian took one tablet and at this moment Brains was operating on his teeth in the sky, this was hard to do, because when Ros explained it, she made it sound better than it actually was, and Brains had to ask Brian to take another pill, luckily the pill was by his bed, so his mum doesn't see him popping pills, and when he did that, Brains operated a bit more, and this was hard for him, but after 3 more pills later, Brains managed to fix Brian's mouth, but said these pills will make you drowsy, so don't rush out of bed to check them, you could fall, and we don't want your mum thinking your a drug addict, and Brian, if you don't want me to repeat this procedure, stop drinking Coca cola, because the amount of pills you had tonight, could **** you if you have them too many, I really made this pill just for people to have dental care, without the big bill, so I know that no ones perfect, but you shouldn't drink too much Coke.
Later that day, Brian woke up and had a look at his teeth, and by jingle by jangle by ******, his mouth was completely healed and when Brian showed his mum, she was a bit worried when he said he had to take 5 pills, but she liked the result, and then said to Brian, please give up Coke, and you might go back to Ros, and be healthy as you look after yourself,
Ros and Brains, started to enjoy their partnership, and Brains told Ros to make sure she explains the dangers of what drinking coke does to teeth, and Ros said it will be her pleasure as soon as she hung up on a very happy mother of Brian, yes another person's teeth was repaired by the sleeping teeth therapist.
Marshal Gebbie Jul 2012
ALERTS TO FINANCIAL AND MILITARY THREATS IN 2012 EUROPE

By John Cleese (British writer, actor and tall person):

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria
and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to
"Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to
"Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not
been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran
out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A ******
Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "****** Nuisance" warning
level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have raised their threat level from "*******" to "Let's get
the *******." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they
have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror
alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France
are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent
fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing
the country's military capability.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly"
to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective
Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance"
to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher
levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat
they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy.
These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish
navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to
"She'll be alright, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: "******! I
think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is
cancelled." So far no situation has ever
warranted use of the last final escalation level.

A final thought -" Greece is collapsing, the Iranians are getting
aggressive, and Rome is in disarray. Welcome back to 430 BC."
st64 Sep 2013
staring through heat wave shimmer
baring to the sky
thoughts unseen


1.
watching
picking of peaches in drop-day sun
rows and rows of others
             neat aligning synchrony - laden baskets
like well-oiled piston-joints

2.
and when you think nobody looks
               a sudden-bite into fleshy-soft ardour
taste oh
         of swollen heaven-fruit
oh ******!
accordion-vision spilling of the unexpected
                               (drip.. drip.. splash.. sink.. )
onto the collar of your cotton-blouse
in slightly off-white splendour

arms thrown up in harvest-fervour
          a semi-circle of moist petal
winks at me
          from arm-pit labour
a deep flush on cheeks as your locket-eye feels a touch unready
finding my mild-gaze resting on your
rubiest-lips ever seen

3.
later
it is sure
a plumb-matching of that pretty furtive-stain
will be rather fetching
on your light-green peasant-frock

hark now!
the winds will howl in least protest
and
waves off southern-cliff coast
where hardy-souls dare go
will quite steadfast
roar..
in unison


oh, ice-rains may fall and squalls may blow
yet finest moment-dawning will be
much like..
picking at the ripe-time*




S T - 20 sept
bongiorno :)
seasons go.. as they go.. round and round..




sub-entry: Black Star - Radiohead

I get home from work and
You're still standing in your dressing gown
Well what am I to do?
I know all the things around your head
And what they do to you
What are we coming to?
What are we gonna do?

Blame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite that beams me home

The troubled words of a troubled mind
I try to understand what is eating you
I try to stay awake but its
58 hours since that I last slept with you
What are we coming to?
I just don't know anymore

Blame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite that beams me home

I get on the train and I just stand
About now that I don't think of you
I keep falling over
I keep passing out when I see a face like you
What am I coming to?
I'm gonna melt down

Blame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite that beams me home
This is killing me
This is killing me
Jude kyrie Jul 2018
And the band played waltzing Matilda
by
jude kyrie

First of all y ou have to know me.
I am not wild or adventurous girl.
I read, and go to small get togethers.
so grounded so conservative.
A girl from new New England.
A schoolteacher I get lost
in the shadows at parties.

I was nothing  like him at all
Not like the tall strong rugby playing
adventure seeking Aussie man
with the wild Aussie accent.

We met when he visited Boston
I am on walkabouts
he said to me in the book store.
I asked him if he Did not have a car.
He laughed
No darlin I mean I am travelling
The world I got restless in OZ
and they call it walkabout.

He took me for coffee
I had never seen such a big
Beautiful man as he.
Every other word
Was right mate
or no worries love..
But for some reason that
I shall never understand.
He liked me

and he would not take no
for an answer.
I felt like a little girl in his arms.
He could pick me up like a feather
Lifting me over his head
Your a bit of alright Darlin.
.he would say.
Or ****** love
you are a *******..
Whatever that meant

I got used to him being around.
He made me laugh.
He always cheered me up
Why I married
him I will never know.

I worried about his giant
frame towering over me..
But. I should not have.
He was the sweetest kindest man
I have ever known.
He treated me like gold.
Always, So gentle so loving.
He made me so happy.

I know he missed his Australian home.
But he never complained.
He said I love you Darlin.
We will get back home one day.
I don't think I have ever been as happy
as that time with him.

I thought giants lived forever.
But they don't.
They are just as frail
as us small people.
When he became sick.
He made little off it.

******,
I will shake it off in a fortnight.
No worries love.
Give us a kiss.
But I did worry.
...I knew ...I knew..I knew.

Finally at the end he said
I got a last request honey.
Honey ..his only American word.
I kissed him.
Anything Anything my love.

Spread my ashes on Australian soil
It don't matter much.where.
Just  Anywhere.
but have them sing
Waltzing Matilda for me love.
When I lost him
My world was not as bright.
But I kept my promise.
I took his ashes back to OZ.

There was a huge
Australian football match
With half of  Sydney there.
As a hundred thousand people
singing his beloved
Waltzing Matilda.
At the football match.

I Let his ashes loose and free
into a cool breeze that seemed
To know he was back home.
He flew away far into
the wide open Australian sky.
Where I knew he was happiest.

And I whispered
Goodbye my sweet
Australian gentle giant.

And the band
Were playing waltzing matilda.
Ahh romance
Tash Street Apr 2010
A smoke-filled room, a loud gaffaw, the barmaid pours a beer,
the pub is full of country blokes and Aussie atmosphere.
Some 'Chisel' thru the speakers, the racetrack on the telly,
pool table sending iv'ry ***** to its underbelly.
Walls adorned with history, and heads of native birds,
the Nation'l Anthem in a frame, 'cause no-one knows the words.

An ag'ed man sits in the corner, sipping at his ale,
his teeth are stained, his liver's shot, his ragged skin is pale.
Young buck swaggers in and, as the room lets up a shout,
he tips his head in mock salute and takes his earnings out.
Good mates standing at the bar as jugs are passed around,
the yarns are flowing freely to impress the growing crowd.
The old man in the corner holds his voice above the din,
"You boys want a story, eh? Well, buck up and listen in.

Jus' the other day this feller was sat here at the bar,
he held his glass with steel hook, his cheek, it had a scar.
That scar, it ran from ear to chin, ****** it was shockin',
angry, red and all inflamed, he'd taken quite a coppin'.
With legs the size of tree trunks an' a barrel for a chest,
he looked as though, with just one blow, he'd put a man to rest.
I ventured on the happenings, and nodded to his claws,
he turned to me, quite wearily, and spoke, after a pause."

As if to emulate the mood, the old man waits a bit,
he squints his eyes upon the crowd and makes a show of it.
"This bloke is felling up a tree, 'bout fifty foot or so,
a lightning bolt, he gets a jolt, the chainsaw he lets go.
It backs up from the branch and lops off both his paws,
then, before he thinks to catch 'em, they hit the forest floors.
He’s with them soon enough, as the rest of him descended.
I shakes me head, 'Christ!' I says, tryin' to comprehend it."

The crowd is leaning forward and the air is getting tense,
the old man lights a cigarette, just to build suspense.
He slowly sips at his beer, then lifts his head to speak,
"Me eyes then trail from steel claws to mark upon 'is cheek,
'That how you did your face in, the chainsaw misbehavin'?'
He took a pause, held up his claws, and shrugged, "Cut it shavin'.""
Peter Hark Jan 2020
Oh wow lookie there!
What a marvelous creature

If you look closely over there you'll be able to see it
a wild hidden disability!

Usually they are invisible to the untrained eye
But I, Stene Irwiv will show you how you can sometimes spot them!

Now all of them look different, but here are a few examples.

See that buddy over there? I've been watching over this lad for a while now
Notice how he walks slowly almost like a waddle?
He also stops to rest more often than the usual guy
He's not lazy! just sore.
Make sure to be careful and don't touch him unexpectedly!
See my friend here has Fibromyalgia, it causes widespread chronic pain.
It can also cause migraines, mood swings, and memory issues
but remember, since these symptoms are usually invisible on the surface
this disability is often overlooked or even called fake by strangers,
but also doctors! ******!

This next one is a doozy
my mate right here looks pretty average on first glance,
but if you look closer you might be able to spot what makes her so special.
This lovely lady right here has Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.
Because of the defect in her collagen,
her skin and ligaments are unusually stretchy.
if you were to touch her skin you might feel that it is very soft and fragile
and when she stands you might see her knees and other joints bend back farther that usual.
She's not just 'double jointed' though,
because of the stretchy ligaments, she and others with EDS are at risk of joint dislocations and chronic pain everyday!
EDS doesn't just cause pain though,
it can also increases a person's risk of ***** rupture or heart problems!
Double ******!

Remember though, these disabilities can't always be seen
so don't judge people prematurely.
You see, the person you think is lazy for sitting in the handicapped seats on the bus,
or maybe the person parked in a handicapped spot who appears to be fine,
or even just the people walking down the street,
any one of them might have an invisible disability.
but just because they are invisible, that doesn't mean they aren't real.
I hope you all enjoyed the show.
I'm Stene Irwiv, and this has been Chronic Illness Hunter.
When I park in a disabled spot or go out in public wearing my braces, I feel like people look at me as if I'm a strange exotic creature. My lovely inspiration for this poem came from when I was watching old Steve Irwin documentaries while I was stuck in bed on a bad flare day.
Ben Jones Mar 2014
Before the time of humans
When the Earth was bare and new
As the sand was poured along the shore
And the sky was painted blue
A single breed of creature
Had dominion of the land
God’s chosen kind: The Turkey
To adhere to his command

They fluttered forth and multiplied
Quite fruitful, they became
They fornicated day and night
Each downy chap and dame
And God was not too happy
“Now hang on just a minute
I said that you should multiply
But, ******, there’s a limit”

The Turkeys gobbled ruefully
For lack of hanky-panky
Until, up stepped a noble fowl
By the name of Lance the Lanky
He stood at least a meter high
His beak was sharpened weekly
The Lord appeared unto him
“Yes ,Lance?” He ventured meekly

Lance stuck out his mighty chest
And issued his demands
For he couldn't get his rocks off
And was quite bereft of hands
“My Lord, I want some nookie
And this abstinence is shocking!
I’m not the kind of feathered ****
To tolerate a blocking”

The Lord rolled up his baggy sleeves
“Now quit your ****** prattle
We’ll settle this the proper way
Prepare yourself for battle!
Name your choice of weapon”
“I will!” responded Lance
“We’ll settle on a victor
Through the medium of dance”

So God moved on the firmament
And Lo! In flashing squares
A dance floor, he constructed
And around it, tiny chairs
The turkey folk assembled
As the Lord and Lance prepared
And to the beat of Tiger Feet
The dance-off was declared

Lance stepped up and Tap-danced
For birds, a skillful deed
He clicked and clattered flawlessly
And took an early lead
But God was quick to counter
With a cheeky little Rumba
The music changed at His command
To a Shakin’ Stevens number

Lance tried Paso Doble
But he made a major blunder
He put his feet too far apart
And Lord God Limbo-ed under
They formed up for a Charleston
The audience were wowed
Then tangled in a tango
Turning circles for the crowd

Their Salsa was spectacular
The Cossack dance was kickin’
So Lance pressed his advantage
With a faultless Funky Chicken
The scores were near identical
For the Foxtrot and the Jive
God had racked up forty three
And Lance had forty five

The Harlem Shake was noteworthy
The Lap Dance, indescribable
The scores were kept by seraphim
Reputedly unbribable
Endlessly, they boogied on
They threw the Highland Fling
But crisis! Lance tripped over
And he sprained his mighty wing

God was named as champion
And not the least bit pleased
The Turkey Folk were banished
Their nests and corn were seized
Then God made just two humans
And to save himself some grief
Instead of genitalia
He gave them each a leaf

He made for them a garden
With a host of fruit and veg
He bid them “See just yonder
“Behind the garden hedge
That’s where I keep the Turkeys
And each ****** one's a sinner
So gather sage and onions up
I’ll show you what’s for dinner”
judy smith Sep 2016
If anyone can make a feral animal print cool it’s Arabella Ramsay. The designer, who skipped the city in favour of the coast a few years ago, has launched a new lifestyle brand in collaboration with her dad Dougal Ramsay, an accomplished artist who has designed ranges affectionately named after all things Aussie; Hello Cocky, G’day Love, Veg Out.

Burnt out from more than a decade in the fashion industry rat race where she had amassed a cult following among adoring 20-somethings and private school girls for her unique apparel, Arabella shut her Melbourne shop five years ago and moved to Jan Juc where her husband has a yoga studio, her daughters play with bunnies and organic eggs are collected from the backyard coop.

Yet the fashion industry has come calling again, albeit in a different guise born of her slower lifestyle and rearing two children. A born and bred farm girl from Kyneton, she has forgone on-trend collections and retail overheads for family-friendly leisurewear and an online boutique.

The print-heavy collection features irreverent Australiana imagery created by her dad: “Bonza” bunnies, cheeky runaway gnomes, larrikin cockatoos, and come summer, a “******” croc print. The coloured sketches run across all-over yardage on leggings, hoodies and T-shirts for men, women and kids.

Dougal says his brief comes from his daughter who then “weaves her magic so the next time I see those drawings they are transformed into cute frocks and tops”.

She has a great eye for pattern and scale. “I enjoy seeing the finished product where a small crab on a skinny leg can grow into a giant monster crab on a rounder leg.”

A successful illustrator and author, Dougal has been fascinated with Australian culture for years, his nostalgic pencil sketching idiosyncratic scenes of country town lifestyles and coastal culture; seedy caravan parks, fishing hamlets and an architectural vernacular that “sadly has pretty well gone now”, he laments.

It was these scenes and Arabella’s own wholesome rural childhood that inspired the father-daughter label. In the spirit of Linda Jackson and Jenny Kee, Arabella wants to “show people the exciting things our country has to offer”, she says of her desire to “celebrate what’s in our back yards and in doing so, tap into the tourist market with a bit of style”.

Manufacturing is done in Australia where possible; a favoured maker is Cheryl, a woman Arabella’s nan found years ago while shopping at Spotlight in Ballarat. “She works from her small shed and has been making my clothes for years. It’s nice having quality control so we don’t overproduce.”

Lighthearted and a little bit kooky, the Dougal range is cultural cringe re-imagined as contemporary cool. Its Instagram (@wearedougal) is a feed of everything from Aussie idioms (Stoked! Strewth!) to summer vacations in Menorca, photography honouring Rennie Ellis, Dougal in the home studio, surf reports and Arabella’s idyllic beach house that has graced the pages of international magazines. Her own sartorial style is an inimitable mix of “70s vintage, preppy, **** and even a bit dorky” that’s equally at ease with the yuppies and the grommets.

“You can basically wear your pyjamas to school pick-ups and your wetsuit to the supermarket,” she says of the local surf town look. “But I still love high fashion and just bought a pink lace Gucci suit for my best friend’s wedding.”

An online purchase, it arrived via the dirt track leading to her secluded beach house. Fair dinkum.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/blue-formal-dresses
Dave Robertson Jun 2021
Ach, my amygdala
agglomerates ridiculousness,
a ****** laden froth
of other possibilities and lives
and loves, loves
and mitigated losses
to address the hurt
chimaera  Oct 2014
Crickety night
chimaera Oct 2014
the night in turmoil
a bumble jumble fumble
of croaks, hoo hoo, purrs, stridulous chirping

then a sudden cringe, ******!,
shush shush
hush, gurgling creek,
hush, whiffled leaves

clippety-cloppety
clippety-cloppety
clok clok clok

a schwing, zing, zip
and a plunk
and a plonk
in a whoosh
and then a scrunche scrunche
and

clok clok clok
clippety-cloppety
clippety-cloppety

silence burbles

tick tock tick tock

shh, shh,
listen:

a sluggy chugalug
and a fuzz of tiny tunes:
a yelp, a eep

stilness

a purr a buzz
putt putt putt
slowly back in motion
the burbles, whiffs, croaks,
the stridulous bumble jumble
of a crickety night
...and this was really helpful:
http://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/Category:English_onomatopoeias
The Facebook bogeys are already ramming their
'Happy Monday's down my throat,
jeez, I ain't even had my coffee yet,

in an hour or two when the caffeine works through
and my system's reset
I may get the happiness factor.

— The End —