His name is Mr. Franks. At the sight of the yellow vinyl chair, Franks starts a giggle that never goes away. It is to be a straight root canal -- drill, cut, file, melt, pack -- though nothing today will be straight, Boyden realizes. Once in the chair, Franks clamps his hands onto his belt buckle as if it were a signal mirror, then snickers at everything from the lidocaine needles to the endo files. Cammy installs the dental dam with a crisp snap.

Boyden flashes her one last smile, just to see if sex is out of the question.

That's what tends to happen after the last patient. They take turns reclining in the vinyl chair, and at their disposal are the air and water pistol, the saliva suction pump, the swing-arm grips -- like pommel holds, those things. The No. 7 nozzle is his favorite, and the Thompson L-handle Extruder, with the worm-drive extension, makes her speak in tongues. There's the pink numbing gel, the sonic gun, the rubber molding kit. They don green- and-blue scrub garb and tie their knots with yellow hose. Sometimes, for kicks, they chew the old-fashioned tartar pills that leave their mouths a foamy pink.

Right now, though, that feels a thousand miles away.

On the radio, Bobby Darrin sings, "Wear My Sweater."
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excerpt; from "Denti-Vision Satellite" by Adam Johnson. The short story we are doing a magazine spread layout for.
I wrote out a bunch of words and ideas from the story and should use that crazy visual thesaurus website to get more words out so finding images for those said words will be easier.