If you come to visit, I suggest you bring your own toothbrush.

From upstairs, sounds of merriment. A little too much merriment. Beloved goes up to investigate.

*laughter*

*indignant sounds from Beloved*

*silence*

I look up as Beloved comes back down the stairs, his eyeballs visibly rolling. I’m almost afraid to ask.

“Remember those new electric toothbrushes I bought last week?” he asks.

I nod.

“They were racing them across the bathroom floor.”

I pause, considering. “Um, they had wheels?”

“No!”

Ick.

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