The Halloween Dentist Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

The town prepared for Halloween
the likes of which no one had seen.
The candy shop was selling lots
and little babies in their cots
were salivating on their nappies
the older ones, those walking chappies
were busy sneaking from the cupboard
the treats put there by Mother Hubbard.

The atmosphere was one of joy
for every girl and every boy
and when the sun had finally set
on hidden pets below each bed
they started roaming in the street
repeating often, 'trick or treat'.

But, even on domestic soil
there often is one who would spoil
the innocence of candy snatching
as if it were an illness, catching
by great surprise the little kids
right in the middle of their bids
to get what would improve their mood
through glucose, which is yummy food
and, simultaneously destroy
the dental health of girl and boy.

Thus, on that night the local dentist
who was a vegan, and adventist
ran out in a crescendoed rush
while brandishing a giant brush.

'You people, do you have no shame?
And is, to you, it all the same
if teeth fall out and gums go black
when strepto's go on their attack
I say forbidden be the sweets
and no more word on trick or treats.'

He took his giant brush and brushed
meanwhile the audience was hushed.
He swept all candies in the gutter
they heard him grunt and spit and mutter
and in the end no one objected
because fluorescent light reflected
from the big brush, also the dentist
was, for a Seventh-Day-Adventist,
a huge and muscle bound young Doc
he stood there, solid as a rock.

But, things don't always come out right
no candy passed, from that one night
the lips of any, stores refused
to order some and thus be used.

Next Halloween they had forgotten
about the sweets, but not one rotten
or otherwise defective tooth
had been detected. Hold on. Struth!

The dentist's overt altruism
had backfired like communism.
His instruments had badly rusted
he couldn't buy, though truly lusted
after the big Mercedes Benz,
so down he sat, to make some sense
of what had buggered up his life.

He did relent and asked his wife.
She was the one for the Mercedes
and did not like to go per pedes.
And, unbeknownst to man and God
she'd given to herself the nod
and opened up in their big attic
a shiny, new and automatic
machine to make her tons of candy.

Which, close to bancruptcy, was handy
and on the Sunday after dinner
he spoke to them about the winner
that science had discovered just
and he explained that humans must
eat sweets to reach a ripe old age
(he wore his bow tie and looked sage)
he also, right away revealed
(that's when his little daughter squealed)
that foresight had brought importation
here, to an undisclosed location.

And that all citizens would test
which colours and which tastes be best
a weekly dental check was needed
to ascertain that none exceeded
the limit of what was allowed
and that his wife (so well-endowed)
would need a big automobile
for housecalls and the right appeal.

Today, the town's small girls and boys
play with their pets and with their toys.
The pets are welcome to eat sweets
because the Doc says nothing beats
the rise of sugar in their veins
and monthly he removes the stains
and scrapes the roots and gums, he planes
the mandibles of cats and dogs
writes measurements into their logs.

And if you are, like me a cynic
go take a look at his new clinic.