I loaded up a toothbrush with a big 'ole gob of toothpaste and shoved it in my mouth.
Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
I immediately whirled around to face T and pointed an accusatory toothbrush at his (somewhat startled) face.
"YOU'VE BEEN USING MY TOOTHBRUSH!"
How dare you! My toothbrush was perfectly happy and healthy until you got your... your... your dirty teeth all over it! I can tell you've been using it because I have never met another person who is so violent with toothbrushes that the bristles fan out like some kind of fucking ... horse foot.
You know those horses with the tassels on their feet. Not tassels, but their hair kind of flounces out about their ankles. Flared jeans remind me of them. Fancy, prancy-face horses.
I have never met someone who can destroy a toothbrush so viscously and so quickly. For a scrawny boy with no muscle, he manages to summon unreal amounts of power for the sole purpose of grinding toothbrush bristles against his teeth.
I have a new toothbrush, by the way. It's green.
"I want the one with more bristles," he says when we're in the toothbrush aisle at WalMart.
"More bristles for YOU TO BREAK!?" I glare at him.
That boy will never touch my toothbrush again.