The toothbrush.
Really Mom? Really? Was it truly necessary to attack me with the toothbrush and awful minty-fresh paste? I was working so hard on that nice garbage aroma that exuded from my mouth. And now - it's barely noticeable. How depressing. All that hard work...
I mean, it's not like she doesn't know how much I hate the toothbrush. I back away, slapping my gums in disgust. I swear, if that stupid thing wasn't stored so high up out of my reach, I'd destroy him and his minty-fresh taste.
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