Thursday, 7 April 2011

The toothbrush

QB: By the way you left your toothbrush at my house again.

30: I think you'll find I didn't leave it there again as it was only left the once.  I was going to ask if I could stay at yours tonight but as the occupation of the small plastic thingymagic for oral hygiene is causing such a disturbance I think I'll pass. 

QB: Okay how about: you left your toothbrush at my house still.  Your toothbrush has caused untold problems at Chez QB. The sheer weight of it on the bathroom windowsill caused the windowsill itself to buckle under the pressure causing lightning bolt cracks, nay, chasms, to appear on the wall 2 metres long... [the silliness continues for a further few paragraphs...] And all because of a small plastic thingymagic for cleaning teeth.

30: I'm assuming that my toothbrush is now in the bin and has stopped causing problems.

QB: No, the toothbrush is buried somewhere in the chaos - I haven't been able to set a foot in the bathroom!

30: Don't give me that.  Like I don't know that the chaos was caused by you in fact putting on a hazard suit (think Back to the Future) and trying to 'handle' the plastic thingymagig used for my oral hygiene. *tsk*.  It's only a toothbrush and not even my favourite one. It's not even my favourite travel one.

QB asks if he should bring my toothbrush to our next date.  I inform him again that as it's a travelling toothbrush, a spare, bought at an airport and perhaps I could leave it at his?  This is not his preferred option.

On the one hand, it's only a toothbrush, on the other - it's only a fucking toothbrush.

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