"You have four cavities!" barked the naval dentist, looking at my X-rays.  He grabbed a huge steel syringe and shot both sides of my mouth full of novocaine. He then looked at the X-rays, and then my mouth.  Then back at the X-rays and again at my mouth.  Then he sat down.

"I have good news and bad news," he said.  "The bad news is, these are not  your X-rays.  The good news is,  you're cured."