—Rise and shine, dear. It's time to get up.
—AAAAAIIIEEEEEEEE! Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?
—What are you talking about, Janet. It's me … Bill.
—Stop lying to me, liar! You can't be Bill. Your … your breath is far too fresh this early in the morning. When my husband wakes up, his mouth smells like a sweat-soaked gym towel that's been left to mildew at the bottom of a laundry basket.
—What are you talking about, Janet? I'm Bill. Your soul mate since '98. The father of our three children. The man who's been sleeping next to you for over a decade.
—There's no way you're Bill. I'd recognize his morning breath anywhere … you can't un-remember that reek. It's like someone puked on a pile of rotten broccoli.
—Come on, Janet. My breath isn't that bad.
—Not that bad? Stuffing your face in a bag of medical waste that's been stewing in a hospital dumpster for a week is not that bad. Getting a snoot-full of my mate's halitosis before breakfast is like a roundhouse kicked to the nose.
—Look at me, Janet. I'm Bill.
—Bill … it really is you. But where's your bad breath? Are you chewing on a dryer sheet or something?
—No, honey. I just changed out my Oral B electric toothbrush's head last night. I guess it was getting old.
—A new brush head? That's all it took?
—As simple as that.
—So I can expect you to wake up with a minty fresh mouth for another couple of months? What a relief.
—Not just months, dear. I got a dozen replacement heads.
—Oh, Bill. I would kiss you right now if I hadn't developed a Pavlovian fear of your pre-noon face.
Deal #: 2921