barry burton

the Mouthwash

Well. Today I was working with some engineers from a large electronics company (no, not that one), so I drove over to their offices on the other side of the valley (the tree-less side). This morning, when I went into their bathroom (I am supposed to be escorted, so I can’t steal their super secret information, but no one ever cares, because, really, I suppose they have no super secret information), I was surprised to find a bottle of Scope sitting on a tray on the sink counter. Along with a ready supply of little paper cups (the kind that have no existence outside of a bathroom). “Hmm, thats very strange,” I remarked aloud in my head, as I left. Later, in the afternoon, I once again visited the bathroom. This time, as I was washing my hands, I realized that I had that nasty “I haven’t opened my mouth in while and its gotten a little funky” taste in my mouth. “Brilliant!” I thought to myself, as I poured a short paper cup of green Scope. But then as I was swishing and swirling the emerald liquid in my maw, my worst fears were confirmed. I had just heard the outer door open which could only mean that the inner door would soon open. In walked another employee. I attempted to act natural while I waited for him to go about his business (luckily, I was dealing with Scope and not Listerine), but he insisted on fixing his hair in the mirror. There is only so long you can hang around a bathroom, so I was forced to expectorate into the sink directly next to him. I was caught in the act of rinsing.