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The Horny Hygienist
I pulled into one of the parking places under the "Reserved For Patients of Dr. Peterson." sign. In the first two years I had been coming to Dr. P, I had grown to hate that sign. It was like some ancient script over the entrance to a torture chamber, "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here", or something just as dire. Malcolm Peterson was the periodontist that I had finally turned to after years of unsuccessfully trying to cope with gum disease that I had hoped would go away by itself. After...