This month’s #blogbattle prompt is

Extract

Extraction Reaction

‘What do we have, today?’ Guy Nocollogist, dentist to the stars, pulled on his Dior rubbers and smeared the antiseptic wipe (Bug Death by Chanel) over his palms.

‘Oh you’ll love this one. It’s the HOT 100s hottest hottie, the new leading man from The Junk Punk.’ Di Alog, the much amended hygienist attempted a smile but little moved.

‘Shay K’speer? Oh lovely.’ Guy tried to peer into the waiting room from the treatment centre. ‘Is he wearing a shirt?’

‘No…! And he’s freshly lubricated!’

‘And did he bring his junk?’

‘Oh yes!!! I’m no expert but I’d put a not inconsiderable number of my modifications on him sporting his reductible big end. Just for you.’

Guy staggered slightly. ‘Did you see the episode with Ryder Hard? Drilling the Willing? I almost changed career.’

The two professionals shared a moment, sponged up the residue and read the notes. ‘He’s wants us to extract all his wisdom teeth?’

‘Apparently he credits his success to his lack of wisdom. He thinks if he could double hinge his jaw, it might open some interesting opportunities, though his people having been blowing hot and cold on the idea.’

Guy read the remainder. ‘Maybe we could enhance the extra space. No one wants a void.’

‘Nature abhors a vacuum.’ Di was always prepared with a ready quip.

Guy frowned. ‘Personally I hate the ironing, but each to their own. Why don’t we suggest some interplanetary implants? His fans would defy gravity when he smiled.’ Guy looked at Di. He couldn’t hide his excitement. ‘Say, top left a fully rotating Earth – imagine how the weather might enhance his saliva? Bottom left, a fiery explosive Mars that gives you the heat without the those nasty post-curry consequences. Top right, a diaphanous Venus that emphasises his commitment to feminism. And bottom right a winged Mercury that will receive his fan mail without him having to read it. Can we make the planets to size?’

Di nodded so hard the vibrations created a harmonic that caused one of her breasts to implode. ‘I’ll speak to Art, but I’m sure he’ll be up for it.’

‘Right, get The Man in and we’ll measure him up, remove any lingering evidence of wisdom, set orbits gyrating and fix a date.’

‘I had one other thought?’ Di spoke with the sort of knowing smugness that makes those running quizzes statistically most likely to be the victims of spontaneous violence. ‘I could have a word with Professor Rex Tum.’

‘Proctologist to the great and good? How would Rex help?’ Guy had a feeling this would be good.

‘I read this article about a procedure Rex carried out on him last year, making the sun shine out of his arse. Shay said he thought the effect had limited impact since the intimacy authorities have limited the unaccompanied appearances of his buttocks to five minutes per episode. Maybe we could refocus the brilliance and set his epiglottis glowing. Imagine the dental penumbra…’

Guy slumped to his seat. This was so exciting. Having a career as a dentist involved so much more than being a rapacious bastard.