Gums to die for

I had an appointment with 2 at 4 today. "Two" is the name of my dental hygienist, although that isn't how you spell it. I always feel like my tartar is being attacked by a secret agent from James Bond's M16 or by Get Smart's Barbara Feldon.

Agent 2 is always pleasantly efficient, and doesn't overdo it during the Floss More Often oration. I bet she whips out of her undercover job at the end of the tooth-polishing day, jumps into her Q-designed car, and speeds off to Istanbul, the Alps, or Hong Kong.
Listerine shaken, not stirred.

My dentist pops in for thirty-four seconds of quality time, and pronounces, "People would kill for your gums!" I'm betting these so-called "people" are the hired muscle of powerful international cartels.

Nobody "kills for" my beauty, my wit, my cooking, or my money. Shirley Bassey only sings about my gums.