...But Fear Itself

This morning was not a happy one for my eldest son. He was from his slumber untimely ripp'd to take me to the dentist at the ungodly hour of 8:30 a.m. (I'm a dentophobe from way back and have to receive nitrous and, thanks to my ongoing adhesive capsulitis, am still not driving.) He was a completely good-natured gentleman about it; that is, until we stepped inside the dentist's waiting room. Where there is a 50-gallon aquarium.

Jared: Jesus-Christ-there's-fish-in-here! MOM!

Me: Oh. Yeah. That. I forgot about that being in here. Just sit over there and don't look at it.

Jared: How could you forget about THAT?!

Me: Jared. Just relax. Don't look at it. There's a lid on it and everything. Do you need to go and sit in the car? For heaven's sake. I'm the one having major dental work. I'm the one who is being gassed, remember. I'm the one who might reveal intimate, personal details while under the influence of anesthesia. What if he asks me something strange? What if he asks me my PIN? What if---

Jared: Oh for fuck's sake. The Muzak is The FISH. It's the Christian station. I'm gonna kill myself right now. This place is my own personal hell. Am I being punked? Are there hidden cameras in here? Do they know I'm an atheist with a phobia about fish and they're doing this to torture me? Are you kidding me right now?

Me: Just relax. Read your Plain Dealer. Really, your concern for my welfare is touching. It really is. I'm about to go in there and have a filling and a crown. A crown. I've never had a crown before. Not that you care. Because at any minute, a dangerous fantail might erupt from that tank and deal you a deathblow. While you are given a requiem by "Awesome God." How can you live with yourself?

Jared: You could have warned me about the fishtank. That's all I'm saying.