Mouthwash Guppy
Out of all of the plastic mouth wash bottles in America, I had to fall into this one.
It happened in the middle of a life changing moment on Tuesday when I wished too hard to become a light-hearted, twinkling, prancing, dazzling faerie.
Pinz. Zinz. Kinz. Linz. Suddenly I had wings and could fly.
I flew into the bathroom first, right up to the top of the medicine cabinet with the mirror so I could see how cute I was. My hair was rainbow colors, and I had silver skin. I dazzled and razzled like glitter. I was quite adorable! Up close and personal, my azure eyes were a wow! I am as beautiful as any rainbow trout, I thought.
Then I looked into the bathtub and remembered how much I used to love to swim, resolving to become a fish if I got another wish. I apparently wished too hard because Pinz. Zinz. Kinz. Linz. Winz. My wings were gone, and I fell hard and fast, landing into the turquoise mouthwash bottle with a plunk. It was lucky I do not always put the lid back, as a lid-land might have killed me from that height.
Although I could not see the mirror now, I instinctively knew I was no rainbow trout. I felt more like a guppy. I enjoyed swimming for the first day or so. I did back flips, and crawls, and floats.
I tried becoming a spider next, because they can climb out of almost anything, but the Pinz Zinz Linz Winz did not happen this time. Tired of kicking my fins, I started to back float, dreaming I was floating on a cloud. I did this for maybe eighteen hours. By the time two evenings had rolled by without me, my husband and dog had stopped looking.
This morning was day three, and I was now utterly exhausted, and wishing that my husband used a cup with the mouthwash. I knew that when he ran out of his mouthwash, he would come to this sink to use mine, and I knew also knew that he rarely uses a cup.
I ranted and raved and flopped and screamed an hour ago, when he entered my bathroom. I frankly made as much noise as a guppy can make, which is no noise at all when he came in to read a newspaper and other things. I watched him wash his hands, and leave. But he came back in, reached for my mouthwash cell, and took a big swig of the stuff.
I was caught up in his mouth, of course. He swirled me around a bit, and promptly spit me into the sink. This was an enormous relief until I remembered that I had gotten angry with the sink and pulled the stopper out of it a couple of months ago. The drain of course, is much bigger than a guppy.
Pinz. Zinz. Kinz. Linz. Winz.
“What are you doing in the sink?” he asked me.
As if he did not know.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment