“Come sit in the chair, Andy. Dr Peele will be here shortly,” an assistant with short bleached hair and a nose ring informed the lanky teenager, standing awkwardly in the corner of the room.

“I don’t want to,” Andy whined with a breaking voice.

“This is ridiculous! You are behaving like a 5 year old,” his mother spat angrily at him.

“Mom, I don’t want to get braces! I’m happy with my teeth. What do I need to fix?”

“Oh, Andy, look in the mirror! Your two front teeth are all crooked. You need to straighten them out.”

“But they’re not impairing me from doing anything. I don’t even notice them!”

“You’ll be sorry when all your friends have perfect teeth and you don’t!”

“Well, I think its a good thing. It makes me different from everyone else.”

“That’s pathetic! You shouldn’t have to look different to be different. Your personality should stand out. Now quit being a brat and get into the chair!”

“Is there a problem?” Dr Peele had emerged.

“No,” Andy sighed, and sunk into the chair.

“Good.Now, open wide.”