Egyptian Plover … over and over
by: Lance Manion
I’m sick of brushing my teeth. Sick to death of it. Every day with the brushing. No other part of my body demands this kind of maintenance. I don’t need to clean my ears or polish my eyes every day for them to pitch in and do their part. They are on board. Not my teeth. Every day, sometimes twice a day, I have to take that damn brush and toothpaste and scour away for 2 minutes otherwise I’m sitting in a dentist chair being told I have three cavities. (Note: I was going to say “cavities up the ass” but the ass is a cavity and I didn’t want to confuse anyone. I’m thoughtful like that.) With the exception of a certain special area that requires a good massage every day, sometimes twice, there is no part of my body demanding such endless attention. And let’s be clear, by special I mean my dick and by massage I mean rubbing one out. And let’s be additionally clear, that is no chore. If brushing my teeth felt like jerking off you wouldn’t even be able to look at my face when I smiled for fear of being blinded.
While we’re in that neighborhood anyway (which is a bit of luck and lets me avoid one of my notoriously clumsy segues), that neighborhood being below the belt, (an example of one of these segues would be when I say, while speaking about automobiles, “which reminds me of a platypus” when in fact the only similarity between the car in question and a platypus is that I would like to start talking about a platypus) I’m sure some of you are wondering why I’m not whining about all the wiping that goes on during a typical day. How, you ask, does this differ from brushing teeth?
It doesn’t really. Going to the bathroom annoys the crap out of me, ironically enough, as well but I don’t want to come off as a whiner. Somehow pooping seems like a natural process while having to put toothpaste on a brush and hurl that brush against your teeth for a few minutes seems unnatural. I think I can say without fear of correction that we are the only animal that brush our teeth. That is if you don’t count those little birds that fly in and clean the teeth of crocodiles and hippopotamuses, which you shouldn’t because if I could sit out on the back deck with a cold beer and have little birds pick my teeth clean I think I’d just about die from joy.
You certainly don’t see those birds pitching in to help clean the other end of the hippo I’ll tell you that much. In fact, I bet a few of them get killed each year flying away all content and oblivious with a belly full of whatever it is they fished out of the hippo’s mouth and getting caught in the downward path of a large dump. I have to admit the picture in my head of two little legs sticking straight out of a steaming hippopotamus turd is both sad and hysterical.
Perhaps instead of just complaining I should show a little of that ‘can do’ attitude and teach a bird to clean my teeth so I don’t have to dread those few minutes every day. If I get one of those large parrot-type birds with the large beaks I’m sure I could get it to wield the toothbrush pretty effectively. Not so sure about applying the toothpaste though.
Which brings up another sore point. Why can’t the makers of Crest just make Crest? Why do they have to keep messing with the formula? I like the blue minty regular Crest. I don’t need whitener, I don’t lay awake at night worrying about plaque or gingivitis, and if I want mouth wash I’ll go out and buy some damn mouth wash. Quit sticking it in my toothpaste and changing the way it tastes. I’m not a 14 year old girl, I don’t want sparkles on my toothbrush like I’m brushing with My Little Pony. For all I know the fumes from these mutant pastes will drive my parrot into a killing rage and he’ll attack my mouth mid-brush.
I’d like to wrap this up with a witty comment but for the life of me I can’t remember what it is they say about crocodile smiles. Or is tears?
About Lance Manion: A tremendous fellow this Lance Manion. Currently residing in a house he could be, much like Schrödinger’s cat, either alive or dead. Of course, if you’re reading this in the year 2060 or beyond then he’s probably dead.
Lance’s latest book, The Ball Washer, is available as a free download at Smashwords.
