The same ole'?? white walls and pink granite tiles. The smell of Novocain dominated the room. The sounds of drills shrieked and scraped. There was a war going on in that little workshop of his. In someone elses mouth. Countless devices and trays of tools were laid out on the table. Needles, hooks, and drills with detachable bits. The red door was depressing. It wrote, "Sterilization," on it.
A moon shaped face with a mask had exit and announced my name. I got the chills. The kind you get when someone scrapes their nails down a chalk-board.
Iâ??m mistaken, the battle ended, the war just started. This war will be executed in my "trap". Goosebumps arise and I become flush. I just want my lollypop and to go home. "In life everything passes on, dead or alive". Wish me luck.
