"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."