Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



All of My Friends

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Close Brush

Du-dum. Du-dum. Dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-du-du-duuhhh!
He’d been away at work.
Ten days on.
And now he was home for his four days off.
The kids were in bed and he and his wife were preparing for a similar eventuality.
He was brushing his teeth.
His toothbrush was lying, conveniently, at the edge of the sink.
He grabbed it and shoved it under the water from the tap.
Then added a small strip of toothpaste.
And proceeded with the business portion of the endeavour.
At first, the pleasant taste of mint suffused his tongue.
Then . . . something different.
Floral?
Was he tasting something floral?
The scent wafted up through his nostrils.
Okay, this was like no toothpaste he had ever experienced.
He pulled the brush from his moth and looked at his wife. “This tastes funny. Why would I taste floral?”
His wife clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh,” she said. “I forgot.”
He slowly lowered his brush into the sink, his eyes now riveted on her. “What did you forget?”
“William got hold of your toothbrush and was dipping it in the laundry detergent cup. I left your brush beside the sink so I’d remember to rinse it out!”
And . . . we’re home.

4 comments:

  1. Smiles.
    Better than the time I started to clean my teeth with Vicks Vapor Rub though...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Those teeth must have been super clean!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Oh dear! When we were travelling together once, my older son grabbed my dad's bryl cream instead of toothpaste - he was not pleased!

    ReplyDelete
  4. OH no! That would be disgusting, but I guess it could have been worse considering the close proximity to the toilet!

    ReplyDelete

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