Thursday, April 1, 2010
The tube of toothpaste in my wife’s medicine cabinet looks like a murder victim. She squeezes it from the middle, and kind of twists it to get more out as it gets emptier. The current tube is contorted, bulging in some places and flat in others. It’s dirty with whatever sort of fine dirt accumulates on things in women’s bathrooms, and the cap is blown wide open. It’s not just open. It’s open in such a way that it never is going to be closed again. There are caked blobs of dried paste frozen in mid-gush clinging to its gaping mouth. Behind its head, stuck to the back of the medicine cabinet wall, there’s a stray blob of dried toothpaste. How’d that get there? It looks like somebody shot the tube in the face and blew its brains out the back of its head, onto the wall.