The Life of a Toothbrush
I stood there and waited, hanging on that shelf – my pink rubber body shining and my
I watched them pass behind the plastic glass. Some of them were small and cried, others
were big and solemn.
My love stood there watching with me, as handsome as could be. He was purple – a
most charming colour. My love for him was quite more than I could love any other
I stood there for days on end, behind that plastic glass with him, content as could be.
Then a them came and plucked us off the shelf, placing us in a metal basket on wheels.
But I was content. After all, I was still with my love.
The them placed us on a moving rubber ramp. We were beeped and then put into a
plastic enclosure stuck between green, leafy things and a bag with a soft, brown thing
trapped inside. It was cozy but cramped. We were bonked around in the enclosure, but
soon enough it was over and we were placed on a shelf.
The them came back later. Them picked me up, but not my love. He stayed behind.
Them let water run over my perfectly lovely bristles, and then Them put something
sticky on me. Them placed me in Them’s mouth, and then I saw Them’s shiny smile.
When Them took me out I was dirty. Them washed me but that was no good. Then
Them set me on a different shelf.
I was disgusting and ugly now, and I missed my love. I pictured him in my mind, all that
handsome colour purple.
Them continued to use me when it was light and when it was dark.
I didn’t see my love, not in the days to come. Then I went into a basket filled with
crumpled paper that was gooey on the inside and sticks covered in yellow goo. In other
words, it was a world of Them’s goo.
Soon, I couldn’t see the world.
Then I was somewhere else, being carried away on a ramp, with more disgusting things.
I thought I saw my love, but it was a pale green one. Then I was dying, being killed, and I
couldn’t do anything about it. As a large metal machine munched me up, my last
thoughts were: because of that them, I will never see my love again.
Then I was gone – dead in a million pieces – my beautiful self, ruined, never to shine or
to live again.