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Thursday, September 11, 2014

Toothbrush Land

Toothbrush Land

“What’s wrong with you, woman?” I thought when I noticed my toothbrush lying on the floor of the shower recess in our ensuite this morning.

I picked it up gingerly. How did the naughty little bugger end up there? I was already late for work and couldn’t be bothered with social niceties so quickly examined it for cockroach poo. There didn’t seem to be anything obvious concealed in the nylon fibres… still… you can never be too sure.

I washed it under the hot water tap in the bathroom sink whilst staring at my crazy-eyed reflection in the mirror. The Pierrot clown who hadn’t removed its makeup properly… the scared, weird, little guy look.

Hot water kills most germs, I thought.

Then I glanced back at the shower recess. The mould growing on the walls would give a grade fiver’s lunch box a run for its money. What if the mould had leapt across the ravine and attached its invisible spores to my toothbrush. Is mould dangerous?

I was feeling devilish, courageous… so I jumped in the shower, liberally squirting toothpaste all over the suspect toothbrush.

Literally two seconds after the questionable toothbrush entered my ruby lips did I speculate that all was not as it seemed. The brush did not seem to take up as much room in my mouth as it usually did. Its bristles were of a more malleable, more lenient texture than that of their usual torturous, stabby-in-the-gums quality.

Alarm bells rang. 

Could it be this WAS NOT MY TOOTHBRUSH?

I wiped away the steam from the shower glass door and peered through to spy Scotto’s huge toothbrush standing out, loud, proud and spectacularly purple in its special little holder; all alone in its glory.

This must be mine, I mused, scrubbing my calculus away with verve.

Thank God I didn’t accidentally pick Scotto’s up. God forbid I get boy germs. 

But it still felt weird. Something about the brush was alien and deep in my heart I knew I was being an ostrich. This was NOT my toothbrush. But whose could it possibly be?

I must be imagining things, I reassured myself. There are only two of us who use this bathroom, it can only be mine.

I finished my shower, taking extra time to swish my Listerine around before spitting it out on the shower floor.

Then it happened.

As I emerged from the shower recess I suddenly spotted it on the bathroom counter.

It was my toothbrush… hiding in plain sight beside the SPF 30+.

My very own cheeky, fire engine red toothbrush.

So… what the freakin hell toothbrush did I just use???

An unspeakable thought crept into my head and I shuddered in revulsion.

I keep an old toothbrush on the floor of the shower to occasionally scrub out the mildew from the tile grouting. I hadn’t seen it for a while. Perhaps it had deliberately concealed itself behind the plethora of empty shampoo and conditioner bottles. 

That couldn’t be the toothbrush I so carelessly picked up, could it?


It’s been eleven hours since the harrowing event.

There are still no symptoms of fungus rot invading my system.

Fingers crossed you hear from me tomorrow.

If not take this as a warning: inanimate objects aren’t always what they appear to be. Sometimes they can be malevolent. There have been cases of demons attaching themselves to inanimate objects. 

We’ve called a priest in.

Do you clean your teeth in the shower or bathroom sink?