You’ll wonder where the yellow went …

It was dark. If it had a sense of smell the toothbrush might have been overwhelmed by a combination of mint from the toothpaste tube it snuggled against and the mixed stench of cheap eau de cologne and bathroom cleaner.

Suddenly there was a light, and a hand reached in. The toothbrush was raised up, and then dunked headfirst under the cold running water. The man who owned it wouldn’t have dreamed of putting his head under the cold tap seconds after getting up. But, of course, toothbrushes don’t have feelings, do they?

A squeeeeeze of blue chalky paste, warm, and psychologically more warming because of that minty flavour. Fresh and comforting.

And then a sudden change of tone. Such brutality! Smashed against a wall of enamel with the shock waves running through each and every bristle as one enamel brick gave way to another. Then back again, along, over the top, round the back. Slimed with saliva and ground carelessly against the unforgiving surface of his teeth in a battle that the bristles would eventually lose.

The toothbrush had no feelings, or it might momentarily have felt relief as it emerged from the stinking cavern, only to be plunged once again in the cold water. It loosened the remains of the blue gooey toothpaste, along with waste food particles that had sought refuge between the nylon bristles. It cleaned of the vile saliva. A gob of minty spit shot past, and if it had senses the brush could have heard its owner curse and feet some satisfaction that he had dribbled onto his chest.

Once more the brush was lifted mouthwards, like the victim of a manic torturer it was smashed back and forth against the dental wall, its bristles jostling one another as they careened across cavities in the yellowing enamel. The toothbrush was unable to enjoy the way its bristles opened up a weak spot in the gums, making them bleed a little.
Finally the ordeal was being concluded. More cold water and then flung into the cupboard with little care about how long it would last.