The Dentist Appointment

I WAS sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist. I noticed his diploma which bore his full name. Suddenly I remembered a tall, handsome, dark haired boy with the same name had been in my high school class some 45-odd years ago. Could he be the same guy that I had a secret crush on way back then? Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, grey haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to have been my classmate.

After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Burwood High School.

“Yes, yes, I did,” he gleamed with pride.

“When did you graduate?” I asked.

“In 1975. Why do you ask?”

“You were in my class!’ I exclaimed.

He looked at me closely, then that ugly, old, bald, wrinkled, fat arse, grey haired bastard asked, “What did you teach?”