Petersburg High School - Missile Yearbook (Petersburg, VA)

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“You mean you won’t have to use the drill at all? Why, I was half hoping you would. You see, I don’t mind it at all. I rather like it ’cause it tickles. He-he-he-he.” I grow braver each minute. “It seems that most people dread it, but I don’t. I think it is silly to be afraid of a little thing like that, don’t you. Doc?” I walk out of the office feeling like a new person. I wasn’t really scared. Shucks, who’s afraid of a dentist? A Wish By Gloria Smith Each day I wish And wish for days gone by. Each doll, each dish In my memory never die. Each day I would be In the land of let’s pretend ; With joy, with glee These many hours would spend. Each day I pray That children dear to me Shall romp, shall play. For I am grown, you see. Page twenty THE MISSILE

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By Dorothy Arnold Relief T last the fatal day has arrived. I have been living in fear of this day for a week as it is the day on which I have to face the dentist, the modern Nero in a white coat who waits to torture you with his drill. I draw near to his den and summoning all my available cour- age I knock at the fatal door. Looking up I discover that it is not the door I have been kno cking on for the last five minutes but the nurse’s face. Amidst apologies and explanations I stumble into his den and find a chair as far in the corner asp ossible. The nurse looks at me as if I were an escaped lunatic. She puts her desk between us and then she asks me what my name is, as if she is half-expecting me to say Napoleon Bonaparte, but I fool her and tell her my real name. “The doctor will be with you in a few minutes,” she says in a tone that reminds me of the time Humphrey Bogart was being sentenced to the chair. Under the watchful eyes of the nurse I pick up a magazine and pre- tend to be interested in it, only to discover that it is the Farmer’s Weekly, a subject of which I know nothing and care less. I try another one and this time I am confronted with a dentist’s picture on the first page. I give up in despair and try to calm my nerves by chewing on my fingernails. Half way through my third one the door in the far corner of the room opens. I grow cold. Chills run up and down my spine. “Come in, my dear,” he says with a smile, more like a sneer. I struggle with my weak limbs and pass into the dreaded room. The sight of the drill chills my blood. I am seized with a sudden desire to rush out, but I change my mind and climb timidly into the chair and sit waiting as if expecting the electricity to be turned on any minute. If only I could by some miracle disappear from this horrible place. “Now let’s see. Open wide. Hm-m-m-m,” mumbles the dentist, while he yanks my mouth open and probes around with several of his torture tools. I sit silently not daring to move lest he should slip and cut half of my face away. “Well, my child, your teeth are all right. Just a little cleaning, that is all,” is his final verdict. I am so startled that I just let my mouth hang open. THE MISSILE Page nineteen

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Refuge To Forget By Frank Myers Down by the sea where the breeze is cool, Down by the sandy shore, In evening when the sunset fades. And bathers swim no more. There alone I sit and talk To the much experienced waves. Which always seem to relieve my mind Of the weary thoughts it saves. ' Tis there I go on summer nights When memories bother me ; It is the place, the only place. That my mind and I are free. A Woodland Shrine By Bob O’Leary Deep in the forest dark and green. There is a sight which few have seen. There I go to sit and dream Beside a gentle, flowing stream. In this lovely God-made shrine All the world seems to be mine. The sunshine flickers through the trees. And all of nature is at ease. When my troubles bother me, I close my eyes and I can see The little haven in the dell. Where I am king and all is well. THE MISSILE Page twenty-one