Consumer Reports

Brushing ones teeth always seemed
to be an innocent act, and it was until today.
Rousing myself from my gloriously hungover
bed-rolling session at noon
I made way for the bathroom to wash up.
The new toothbrush I'd purchased two days
earlier had appeared to be a dud--
in my haste to get out of the store
I failed to read the "Soft" in fine print
at the top of the package.
I'm a "Medium" bristle kind of guy
since anything less feels like I'm wasting
my time rubbing tinsel in my mouth.
The real kicker was that I'd bought
a two-pack, thus increasing the blow.
It wasn't the money that concerned me, but
the principal of the thing. Always the damn principal.
I figured I'd suck it up and use the things
for the suggested three months for once
then get rid of them.
It all seemed so simple
right up until I got curious today during
my hygienic routine.

After I finished brushing extra vigorously
to account for the flimsy bristles
I laid the toothbrush down in its designated place
on top of the tube of toothpaste.
The faucet was running as I rinsed my mouth out
and glared down menacingly at the instrument
in question. For the first time I noticed a small
circular bump on the handle where ones thumb
would be while holding it.
Ah, another ergonomically correct product
engineered with the sole purpose of charging more.
I picked it up and pressed my thumb
to the exalted piece of rubber when suddenly
the head of the toothbrush began trembling
while making a vulgar whirring sound.
That was no thumb rest, it was a button--
a button to activate a God-awful vibrator
at the tip of the stupid thing.

I dropped it into the sink out of a mixture
of terror and embarrassment and shook my head.
I'd been duped alright.
I'd bought a housewives secret friend
a teenage girl's first lover
a widow's source of pleasure
when the peanut butter runs out or the dog dies.
I wondered if the girl at the register had noticed.
Sure she did, she probably had one at home. No, five
just in case the tiny batteries ran out on her
in the middle of those "Sex and the City" re-runs.
Lord, it had really come to that.

I picked it back up and pressed the button again.
It felt dirty doing it, but I started brushing my teeth
to see if the vibrating function really "Shook plaque loose"
or "Stimulated gums (gently)" like the package
that was now in my hand claimed so confidently.
Whom were they kidding?
They wrote this stuff with straight faces?
Did they tell their families what they did for a living?

This little baby was the biggest cover-up since Watergate.
Disgusted, I yanked the toy from my mouth
and held it just above my belly button
not knowing where else to "try it out" without
totally going off the deep end of humiliation.
I had to admit, it did feel good.
Admitting my loss and making a mental note
of what to give as next year's stocking stuffers
I retired from the bathroom, retired from the lunacy
while pondering the likelihood of an Afterlife and
dreaming of what in God's name they'd come out with next.

Survey says: "Brace yourself."