Thought Vomit #85: ft. The Teeth And Nothing But The Teeth

The laying on of hands has come in for some criticism from so-called scientists recently, who believe that without empirical evidence the phenomenon has no real merit. Well, what their instruments can’t see, the eyes and soul can.

Kevin is a psychic dentist. He claims that he can perform orthodontic procedures through a mixture of reiki and prayer. And from what I’ve seen with my own, and other people’s eyes, I’m convinced he’s the real deal.

At his spiritual retreat in the Mendips, a few of us gathered for our treatment. I’ll admit that I was completely sceptical at first, as I always am. I mean, it took that tarot card reader nearly a minute to tell me the initial of my first name, but when she did, I couldn’t fault her. She was bang on.

Kevin told me that my wisdom teeth are not called that by accident. During my session he explained that the wisdom teeth can mystically remember everything that has ever happened near enamel. They have a greater worldly knowledge than even the internets.

So he taught me a technique to communicate with my wisdom teeth, which involved closing my eyes and tapping into a part of my brain called The Imagination. Kevin explained that, “in order to talk to your teeth, all you really need to do is imagine how they would reply.”

Because they can remember anything that has ever happened near enamel, I asked them to tell me about Cameron Diaz in the bath, and my The Imagination conjured up a rather vivid and arousing image. So it must work.

Now, that was enough to convince me of Kevin’s voracity, but he was determined to open my eyes even wider. His psychic dental surgery isn’t like the clinical westernised evil laboratories you see regulated on every High Street, it was a place of calm, a place of introspection. It looked like a living room, complete with cats.

And it immediately put me at my ease. I had a rotten tooth that a so-called dentist wanted to charge me real money to remove. But Kevin said he could fix it for only a few hundred pounds, and no African children would have to die in the process. So, not only was it good for my soul, it was good for my liberal guilt too.

Kevin began by hypnotising me, using a combination of mystical chanting and an injection. “This is called Psychic Sleep Juice, and it’s an ancient druid recipe of opioids, fentanyl and sedatives, mixed with the bark of Willow,” he explained, as I began to drift off into my Native American comfort place.

When I awoke, Kevin had psychically removed my rotten tooth, and even managed to pack my bleeding gums with something. He assured me that he did this with prayer, and I have no reason to doubt him. There were a few side-effects, mostly drowsiness and a mouthful of something like cat hair, but Kevin explained that opening mystical portals often brings in unforeseen detritus.

I don’t think I’d ever use a capitalist dentist again, but I was forced to visit my local one a few days later to attend to a mysterious infection. The evil tooth pulling big pharma scum tried to say it was bought on by having a tooth removed in unsanitary conditions, and was worried that I had some form of feline blood disorder; but after consulting with Kevin, he told me that the dentist was wrong, which was a relief.

Next week: Spiritual Colonics.

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