Dental Pressure

Dental appointment today. I had to go.
Woke up with a rough spot on one of my lower front teeth.
I had a thorough cleaning (which I really enjoyed--do I have a problem?) and then I entered another chamber for my official appointment.
My dentist (a happy guy who sports Hawaiian shirts who will remain nameless because my Actor Malpractice Insurance has too high of a deductible.) smoothed out the rough spot and then produced a mirror.
"You are going to want to fix this." he said.
--he showed me the reduction in opacity his smoothing had produced on one of the affected tooth's corners--
"Close enough for hand grenades," I said.
Unamused he responded with: "I don't know much about hand grenades but you are going to need a crown on that tooth. "
"Can't you just add some bonding?"
"Oh no, if I did you wouldn't even be able to close your mouth."
"How long will it take?"
"About four visits."
I hesitated.
"You are going to want to get a crown," (his look was like dual daggers made of steel forged in the blood of some accusing large eyed mammal known for its powers of condemnation.)
He locked on with the full might of the Art and Science of Dentistry.
I was once again a victim of Dental Pressure.
I stammered some kind of "I'll think about it." and I left.
Lets face it America our dentists have turned into Car Salesman. The last time I felt pressure like this was at a volume Dodge dealer on Route 22.
I am still recovering emotionally.
Later,
Paul Parducci