before I had that. Anyway, one day my toothbrush disappeared and a new plain blue one showed up in its place. Mom said she had replaced it because it was worn out and too small.
Anyway, when I walked into the bathroom and saw my old friend Peter Penguin on the counter by the sink, it felt like a miracle. How else could my favorite toothbrush simply appear in the bathroom? I picked it up. It did look pretty worn out, but I didn’t care.
As I was examining my long-lost toothbrush, a terrible thought came over me. If Graham were here, I’ll bet he would say, “Rule number six: No cartoon character toothbrushes.” Maybe I was a baby after all. I mean, I cry when I get hurt, I’m embarrassed about the maturation program, and now I want to brush my teeth with a Peter Penguin toothbrush. Why does being manly have to be so hard? I thought to myself.
I walked over to the small garbage can next to the toilet and was about to throw it away. Then I thought to myself, Maybe just one more brushing for old time’s sake.
Immediately, I rushed back to the sink and turned on the water. I usually don’t brush my teeth during the day, but this was a special occasion. My old friend Peter Penguin and I were reunited at last. I put a little water and a dab of toothpaste on the brush, and in no time at all, I was scrubbing like crazy. I looked in the mirror and it seemed like my reflection was six years old again. Memories of good times passed through my mind. After spitting and rinsing my toothbrush, I stuck my mouth under the faucet and got a drink. I looked in the mirror again and smiled. My teeth looked whiter already. Yes, there was something magical about that toothbrush. I decided to keep it. Who cares if there is a rule about cartoon character toothbrushes? I was never going to tell Graham anyway.
I ran out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Mom was on the phone with Grandma. “Hey, Mom, I found my toothbrush! I thought you threw it out, but it—”
“I’m on the phone, sweetie,” she said. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
I knew just the thing to do in those couple of minutes: brush my teeth again. I ran back to the bathroom, loaded up Peter with toothpaste, and started scrubbing. A few minutes later, I heard my mom.
“Raymond, I’m off the phone. What did you need?” she asked.
“Nothing, Mom,” I said happily. “I was just wondering where you found my favorite Peter Penguin toothbrush. My teeth feel better than ever!”
“I’m sorry, Raymond, what toothbrush are you talking about?” she asked, walking into the bathroom.
“This one,” I said, holding it up.
“Oh, dear!” Mom yelled, grabbing it from my hand. “Don’t put that in your mouth! It’s been in my cleaning bucket for ages. I use it to scrub corners and around the toilet.”
All of a sudden it seemed like she was speaking in slow motion. I tried to talk but couldn’t. “This was in the toilet?” I was finally able to say, feeling sick. The fresh, clean taste in my mouth suddenly disappeared, and terrible thoughts of what I had been scrubbing onto my teeth filled my brain.
“Yes, Raymond. I use that to clean the hard-to-reach areas of the toilet,” she said.
“Aaaaah, yuck!” I yelled, spitting into the sink. Then I stuck my mouth under the faucet for about five minutes. I’m going to die! I thought as water from the faucet filled my mouth.
“Mom, how could you?” I yelled, turning off the water. “Why didn’t you say anything about using my toothbrush to clean toilets? And why did you leave it here on the counter for me to use?” I went back to spitting into the sink.
“I’m sorry, Raymond,” she said, rubbing my back. “I was cleaning in here today and must have forgotten to put it away. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure I’ll be fine?” I cried. “How can I be fine? I’ve been scrubbing my teeth with a toilet brush!”
I went to my room to lie down.
“Why don’t you rest, and I’ll bring
Anyway, when I walked into the bathroom and saw my old friend Peter Penguin on the counter by the sink, it felt like a miracle. How else could my favorite toothbrush simply appear in the bathroom? I picked it up. It did look pretty worn out, but I didn’t care.
As I was examining my long-lost toothbrush, a terrible thought came over me. If Graham were here, I’ll bet he would say, “Rule number six: No cartoon character toothbrushes.” Maybe I was a baby after all. I mean, I cry when I get hurt, I’m embarrassed about the maturation program, and now I want to brush my teeth with a Peter Penguin toothbrush. Why does being manly have to be so hard? I thought to myself.
I walked over to the small garbage can next to the toilet and was about to throw it away. Then I thought to myself, Maybe just one more brushing for old time’s sake.
Immediately, I rushed back to the sink and turned on the water. I usually don’t brush my teeth during the day, but this was a special occasion. My old friend Peter Penguin and I were reunited at last. I put a little water and a dab of toothpaste on the brush, and in no time at all, I was scrubbing like crazy. I looked in the mirror and it seemed like my reflection was six years old again. Memories of good times passed through my mind. After spitting and rinsing my toothbrush, I stuck my mouth under the faucet and got a drink. I looked in the mirror again and smiled. My teeth looked whiter already. Yes, there was something magical about that toothbrush. I decided to keep it. Who cares if there is a rule about cartoon character toothbrushes? I was never going to tell Graham anyway.
I ran out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Mom was on the phone with Grandma. “Hey, Mom, I found my toothbrush! I thought you threw it out, but it—”
“I’m on the phone, sweetie,” she said. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
I knew just the thing to do in those couple of minutes: brush my teeth again. I ran back to the bathroom, loaded up Peter with toothpaste, and started scrubbing. A few minutes later, I heard my mom.
“Raymond, I’m off the phone. What did you need?” she asked.
“Nothing, Mom,” I said happily. “I was just wondering where you found my favorite Peter Penguin toothbrush. My teeth feel better than ever!”
“I’m sorry, Raymond, what toothbrush are you talking about?” she asked, walking into the bathroom.
“This one,” I said, holding it up.
“Oh, dear!” Mom yelled, grabbing it from my hand. “Don’t put that in your mouth! It’s been in my cleaning bucket for ages. I use it to scrub corners and around the toilet.”
All of a sudden it seemed like she was speaking in slow motion. I tried to talk but couldn’t. “This was in the toilet?” I was finally able to say, feeling sick. The fresh, clean taste in my mouth suddenly disappeared, and terrible thoughts of what I had been scrubbing onto my teeth filled my brain.
“Yes, Raymond. I use that to clean the hard-to-reach areas of the toilet,” she said.
“Aaaaah, yuck!” I yelled, spitting into the sink. Then I stuck my mouth under the faucet for about five minutes. I’m going to die! I thought as water from the faucet filled my mouth.
“Mom, how could you?” I yelled, turning off the water. “Why didn’t you say anything about using my toothbrush to clean toilets? And why did you leave it here on the counter for me to use?” I went back to spitting into the sink.
“I’m sorry, Raymond,” she said, rubbing my back. “I was cleaning in here today and must have forgotten to put it away. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure I’ll be fine?” I cried. “How can I be fine? I’ve been scrubbing my teeth with a toilet brush!”
I went to my room to lie down.
“Why don’t you rest, and I’ll bring
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