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“Would we have ever met if I became a dentist?”
“Probably not.”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m scared of needles.”
“Knowing your luck, you’d chip some lawyer’s tooth and get sued for $50 million.”
“It’d wreck me.”
“Your practice would be a subsidiary of Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe.”
“Forget that. I’d have to become a mob dentist.”
“A mob dentist?”
“Sure.”
“These things exist?”
“Yeah. Mob dentist. Like that really, really bad David Duchovny movie.”
“David Duchovny played a mob dentist in a movie?”
“No. He was a mob doctor. He was a regular doctor, a surgeon I think. Got involved with drugs, lost his license. So now he treats mobsters when they get shot and stuff.”
“So …”
“So I’d be forced to treat gangsters. You know, when Big Sal gets a toothache, or Tony Guns needs a root canal.”
“Because Big Sal and Tony Guns wouldn’t want the police getting wind of their dental treatments.”
“Well …”
“You just thought that since there are mob lawyers and mob doctors that there’d be mob dentists.”
“Wait – somebody’s gotta put braces on Carmine Jr’s teeth!”
“That’s why there are mob accountants.”
“Mob accountants moonlight in under-the-table orthodontics?”
“No. Mob accountants help Big Sal and Tony Guns get their W2s and all their payroll stubs from legitimate businesses the mob muscles in on and then draw what appear to be legitimate salaries to pay legitimate dentists.”
“So, there are mob doctors and mob accountants, but no mob dentists.”
“Fraid not.”
“Damn. I guess I’d have to scrape gums with Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe sticking their hands in my pockets every time I bill an insurance company.”
“Fraid so.”
“Hmmm. Good thing I’m scared of needles.”
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