Where There Is Smoke...

Word count: 275

    “You know, I am not one to complain or anything,” my wife looked at me somewhat skeptically, “I am just sorta' curious you know?”  Skepticism turned to resignation; it could have been downright disbelief I suppose.  “But just why do we have lemon toothpaste?  I looked at the tube in my hand, it was a simple plastic tube with ‘Lemon’ printed on it with a yellow felt tip pen, very clever, the printing looked familiar.  “Did your daughter make this?”

    “Listen, to begin with she is our daughter, and yes she did make it and you are going to use it and you are going to like it and you are going to thank her for it.”  She kinda had that look in her eyes suggesting that it would be in my best interest to acquiesce to her desires.

    “Well yes of course I will use it and enjoy it and thank her, what kind of father do you think I am?”  My loving wife shot me a squinty-eyed threat, which I was not quite bright enough to pick-up on at the time, “She does know lemon is slightly acidic, right?

    “John,” this was accompanied by a rather stern look, I am not really sure why.

    “Okay, okay sheesh.  See I am squeezing it onto my toothbrush as we speak.”

    We watched as the bristles began to melt and white smoke curled from them, the room filled with a slight vinegary aroma.  I quit squeezing but the smoke kept coming.  I dropped the smoking stub of my toothbrush into the red ceramic tulip shaped container next to the sink.

    “Uhm, where is the mouthwash honey?”

Word count: 275