Tim Miner's Musings

"My little Tim, can we do this now?" my lady dentist in white latex glooves implored, dangling a pair of tongs in the air. Her white labcoat buttoned halfway from the bottom-up barely hugging her hi-low African print-mesh dress. Damn, she had curves, a serious glance and a dimpled smile! Her hair well plaited and pony-tailed. I liked her still yet small voice. "Yes ma'am," grinning, i made up some bravery in my voice. I dread the thought of what she was capable of on a pain-drained wilful patient that i was. She paced across her meticulously clean and well arranged room. Pulling a drawer here, clicking some metals there, turning on a fan and sterilizing her tools of trade. Tuning the radio set, turning the tap at the sink by the wall, just turning on this and that...the rather dull morning room life changed for the better. I lay on a slightly slanted operation bed with a pulsating heart, chilled blood, stiff limbs, a bad tooth and a sweaty brow.

There're friends we hold dear And others in fear. Friends maybe queer But love makes us bear. The clumsy barber clamped my hair And my sons jeered at who'd be the heir They wondered whether it was all fair To give friends my wealth and fare Cried, theirs was a small share. The limping hare Store the summer food in its lair A fairy i tell the birds of air. My heir sons not here Their pleas i can't hear Where's my beer? #fry_edSheep