(I am getting my molars removed for the first time, and I’m freaking out. My sister decides to take advantage.)

Me: *to receptionist* “So, where are they going take me for the procedure?”

Sister: “A dark, scary dungeon.”

Me: *to sister* “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” *to receptionist* “How’s the dentist planning on sedating me?”

Receptionist: “Well-”

Sister: “They’re going to strap you to a table and beat you with a log until you’re unconscious. Or your teeth fall out. Whichever comes first.”

Me: *to receptionist* “How long am I going to be out?”

Receptionist: “Well–”

Sister: “Years.”

Receptionist: “Oh my God, would you stop? Your brother is turning pale!”