Talk of the Town Ernie Anderson

I used to be terrified of dentists, likely the result of a couple bad experiences in the chair and too many viewings of movies like “Marathon Man.” But these days? Naw. Ain’t a thing. I recently had an extraction at Dr. Drew’s office in Lewiston. I was sitting in the chair, waiting for the terror to begin, when Dr. Drew himself handed me the bum tooth. “But don’t you need to give me Novocaine before you pull that tooth that you’ve already pulled?” I asked him. Turns out he had given me two shots and yanked that sucker before I was even done praying. Now I go to the dentist sometimes just for fun!

“The Exorcist”
I used to be horrified of that movie. After watching, I’d lie (or possibly lay) awake all night waiting for my bed to start hopping across the floor, just liked what happened to poor Regan at the start of things. But I totally conquered my fear of this flick by engaging in stout philosophy and through a deep exploration of my rational inner self. None of that helped. Mainly I’m over it because I refuse to watch the movie again. Like ever. If a friend invites me to have another go at it, instead of straight up wussing out, I will fling myself down the stairs to generate a handy excuse. “Darn the luck,” I’ll say. “Would love to watch the flick, but I have to go to the hospital to have both clavicles snapped back together. Say, can you help me find my right ear?”

Dark, dank basements
Used to find basements creepy. Fortunately, my wife has ours so full of crap (who in blazes needs 11 sewing machines, anyway?) that there’s absolutely zero room for a single poltergeist to set up shop. No room for my motorcycle, either, for that matter. My fear of basements has been replaced by an absolute dread of clutter.

Bees, hornets, wasps
Used to dread these little winged assassins, mainly because you can never know for sure if one is on you. Did it fly down my shirt? Up my pant leg? Is it in my hair? Now these little stingers don’t bother me at all because it’s nearly November and I can afford to be brave about it until May.

Vampires and/or windows
When I read Stephen King’s “Salem’s Lot” as a kid, I developed a deep fear of looking out a window in the dark hours of night. Who wants to see the floating, leering face of little Danny Glick out there in the blackness just waiting to come in and chomp on your neck? Not me, that’s what. Though I DO like to sleep all day and stay up all night, I had no interest in getting turned into a vampire, myself. Then I watched “The Lost Boys” and you know what? That actually looks kind of fun. The rock ‘n’ roll brand of vampires are way cooler than the dead kid ones. Sign me up!

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