Recently, dentists have begun improving what they refer to as the dental experience. I thought that meant having magazines in their office that are current within the last century or the receptionist not going ballistic when you tell her you’re going to be three minutes late for your next appointment.

No. It’s the fact that now, while fiddling around in your mouth, they show movies. The consumer is entertained and the dentist makes sure you return by offering a good double feature.

I think it would work very well –- especially if they played horror films. You’d be so into watching the young cheerleader scream, as she’s probed by the giant worm from the planet Imbecile, you wouldn’t notice your own.

I found out about this great advance when I saw an ad in the newspaper for a new medical center. Immediately, I knew I had to go for it. Of course, I hated to leave my old dentist. But where was the fun there? He had no movies, no high-tech gadgets. Just halfway through the session he would show me his very large false teeth and say, “Don’t let this happen to you.”

So I went to see Doctor K. (Name changed to protect me from having all my teeth ripped out while under gas.) I sat down in the chair and he immediately lowered a small screen. He pushed a button and I saw Spiderman fly through the air by webs of steel. It almost seemed as if I were in a movie theatre, except that the ushers seldom ordered me to spit.

Dr. K. began taking in the movie too and suddenly we weren’t doctor and patient. We were two old friends bonding over a shared experience. One of whom, in a moment, would be causing the other great pain.

Suddenly, the doctor pointed to Toby McGuire on the screen and said, “See this tooth here? It has a Da Vinci Veneer.”

“Oh?” I mumbled.

“The man’s got one beautiful mouth.”

I nodded, happy for any excuse that would keep him from drilling. “Fascinating.”

We sat for a moment, neither of us saying anything, taking in the majesty of Toby’s fine dental work. It was almost as if we were on vacation at the Grand Canyon. I waited for Doctor K to bring out a disposable camera and ask me to take a couple of shots of him next to Toby’s very picturesque right incisor.

Then, he turned back to me and continued to work on my teeth while I watched the film. Soon, however, Dr. K brought me back to reality. With a sardonic smile, he held the drill in front of my, now terrified eyes. Apparently, one of us had forgotten about all that bonding we had done earlier.

As he placed the drill into my mouth, something on the soundtrack caught his attention and he turned back to watch. However, his hand had moved and it looked like I’d be getting a third nostril.

Not good. During allergy season, my life was already tough enough with two.

I wanted to yell out to him, but with a mouth full of cotton batten, dental dam and about 1700 sharp medical instruments, my words didn’t come out as eloquently as I had hoped. Something like — “Ahhhuhooooh.”

“Yeah, it is an exciting movie. Take a gander at this part.”

Eventually, he moved his drill, saving me from a nose-ectomy.

“I’ve seen the rest of this. It’s excellent.”

For the next ten minutes he gave me his full attention and I savored the film again. Then Doctor K began removing all the stuff from my mouth. “”Okay, we’re done.”

Puzzled, I turned towards him. “What do you mean, done?”

“Your sessions over.”

“I didn’t see the end of the movie.”

Dr. K. laughed. “They all get their teeth fixed and live happily ever after.”

“Couldn’t I stay and…”

“I’ve got other patients.”

“Maybe you could fill another tooth?”

“You only had one cavity.”

“What about a cleaning?”

“You had it already.”

“My teeth still feel dirty.”

“Get out.”

Then he abruptly forced the chair upwards and I had to get out. As I slowly exited the office, I felt the scars of a wounded relationship and an unsatisfying movie experience.

Depressed, I wandered down the street to a tiny medical center, hoping to catch a glimpse of some giant false teeth.