Stabbing Minty Fresh

The third born
of us four boys
was into mechanics

a natural born destroyer
of engines and
dirty working cogs

Once when I was around eight
in the midst of a quiet moment
daydreaming in the bathroom
I found his screwdriver
lying on the bridge
of the sink

Being the fourth born
of us four boys
I picked up the small red handle
and examined it carefully

without thinking
I drove it downward
into the tube of Minty Fresh

To my surprise
it delightfully slipped right in
spearing the soft metal casing
with ease

I couldn’t believe it
the toothpaste tube
WAS in fact destructible

news to my eight year old self

Immediately
I stabbed it again

and again and again and
again

each perfect perforation
was almost invisible to the eye
the paste didn’t ooze from the wounds
the casing as a whole didn’t even bend
it just absorbed the spike
into its full fluoride body

I stabbed it a couple more times
addicted to the pure satisfaction
of the sound
and sensation

I must have looked
demented

mesmerised at the scene
of a senseless
basin murder

I then calmly placed the screwdriver
back where I’d found it
and walked away

Of course
my father’s cries of anger
could be heard from the end of the street
when he went to brush

innocently squeezing
the spearmint corpse
only to find a dozen tiny trails
of white goo
curling onto his hand and wrist

We were lined up
and asked a very simple question

“Who stabbed the toothpaste?”

The second born
of us four boys protested
“why the fuck
would I fucking stab
the fucking toothpaste”

“I don’t know”
came the reply
(Father bad cop
Mother good)

“but no one is leaving this house
until we know the answer”

I couldn’t confess
I was too scared

It was only toothpaste
but it was ‘good’ toothpaste
as in
it worked, nothing was wrong with it
and my parents had paid
hard earned
money
for
it

It was out of character, sure
I didn’t know why I’d done it
but I had

The third born
of us four boys
- the owner of the screwdriver
took the lion’s share of flack

I should’ve said something
not stitched him up

looking back on the incident now
the whole thing seems
well...
fairly mental

What on earth could my parents have been thinking?
four sons fed,
bathed and watered
cared for
clothed
and one
of the little bastards
for no reason whatsoever
had destroyed
a perfectly decent
household item

It’s the kind of thing
that kills patience

Alas
kids will be kids
and I confessed in the bath

spoilt as always
as the fourth born of four
usually is
my mother agreed not to tell

and the whole incident
is now lost
in the collective memory
of a family unit
long since
dispersed