Oh the Gauze, the gauze

They did it. Numbers 1, 16, 17 and 32, my precious jewels, clinked onto a metal tray. They listened to old school r&b while they invaded my face.
This is how it went: Blue scrubs escorted me to a secluded room in the corner where I sat on the long, plastic chair and a paper bib was placed on me. I waited there for about an hour and listened to the dental assistant gossip through the free time. I slept for two hours the night before, so as I gazed at the lifeless tree outside the window I fell asleep. Just as I was picking out Chanel, Dr. Hoffman came in and laughed about my sleeping while sitting up and asked if I had any questions.
"Nope."
He proceeded to inject the sleep liquid that would cloud my blood stream and make my body unaware of the staff's inappropriate banter about my unpleasant breath. (i just know they talk about me) I remember desperately attempting to take in all the observations I could before I went under. I wanted to know the exact point when the room darkened and I filled my head with dreams. There was an IV in my arm, tape and gauze, and a thin tree in front of a brick wall in front of me. That's the last thing I remember. How interesting! I want to know if I made any shocking comments while I was in the purples and pinks of my subconscious; I'm notorious for sleep talking. Two seconds later blue scrubs was asking me if I was OK to walk and that she couldn't catch me if I fell. I of course told her I could lift a chainsaw if I needed to. Bloody gauze crowded my mouth and my eyes were the size of a streetwalker's on xanax. The audience in the waiting room stared at my fairly interesting state and my Mom rushed me to the car.
I told her, "Walgreens. Pain Pills. Now."
The pain level rose as I waited listening to the radio. Still having the anaesthesia teasing my senses, I wished for some DJ Shadow instead of "go to the jewelery store and tell em make me a grill".
On the way home my Dad called and I was happy.