Curmudgeon crowned -- but not a king

I may not be old by several objective standards -- though my kids consider me ancient -- but I have gotten 'long in the tooth' -- a boon, as it turned out, to the local periodontist, whom I still see.

And I am old enough, at least, that my cavities are starting to get cavities.

Thus I was sentenced to the general dentist's chair Saturday morning, for an hour and a half of drilling, shaping, pulling and tugging. I was being measured for a crown... but I would have no kingdom.

The dentist's assistant came in first. "You'll need to give a couple of impressions first," she said.

"I didn't know," I said, embarrassed. "I haven't rehearsed anything.... Let's see.... Judy, Judy, Judy...."

I thought it was at least a passable Cary Grant, particularly on such short notice, but the dentist's assistant was not impressed. In fact, she seemed a little confused, standing there with a handful of something that looked all too much like Play-Doh.

"Well," I said, "how about this?.... Zuzu's petals?! Well, whaddaya know about that?!" You may find it hard to tell on the computer screen, but that's a fair Jimmy Stewart.

Nevertheless the dentist's assistant shoved the Play-Doh in my mouth. It was the dentist who later suggested I might have fared better with a Rodney Dangerfield (I don't get no respect!) -- but I wasn't wearing a tie on a Saturday.

The dentist fired up the sander that he was going to use to shave down my tooth for the crown. The machine made a much more deep-throated rumble than the traditional dentist's drill. "This won't hurt me a bit," he said. And he was right.