I held my head high as I walked the grim hallway.
Hands stretched out to touch mine, but I rejected their comfort.
I had not done wrong. I would not bow and cower now.
I would not plead and express remorse.
The chair dominated the small room. The straps were uncomfortable on my wrists but I did not lower my gaze from the viewing window..
Death by lethal injection.
And all because I had bludgeoned my dentist to death with the chisels he had used so violently on me when he extracted my molar.
I will not plead and express remorse.
I did not do wrong.
This bizarre little story is linked to week 95 of Saturday Centus. The prompt is in bold. I did end up having a tooth extracted on Friday afternoon, but my oral surgeon was fabulous...although I will admit to having had a few in the past who made me feel a bit homicidal. To read other links, just click here.