Singed Synapses and Deranged Dendrites

The Importance of Looking Presentable (#legacy)

William awoke on the floor with a throbbing headache. The crack of light coming through the narrow prison window told him it must be nearly ten am, not long enough to have slept off his hangover, but late enough that his wife would have his head, or worse yet his balls. 

Church bells began to ring confirming the hour. His children would all be in their Sunday best being shuttled or in the case of William, his eldest teenage boy, dragged to service. He shuttered again at the thought of his wife's furry when she found out where he was. 

William looked around the cell at about seven other men, who had been dragged in during the wee hours of the morning for supposedly starting a riot. Half lay asleep in their own vomit and piss, one mumbled to himself and walked back and forth pulling at his hair, and one young man sat crouched in the corner crying. A pretty typical Sunday morning crew after the inevitable barroom brawl after a night of merrymaking. As far as William was concerned, there really shouldn't have been any need to call in the police. 

He tried to think of something he could say to pacify his wife when he got home. He started straightening his cravat, tucking in his shirt and smoothing back his hair. He was nearly forty-six for God's sake, much too old for these kinds of antics. He was better than these fools that lay in the cell with him. 

At that moment William resolved to turn over a new leaf. He would make something of himself and buy his wife fine clothes and jewelry. And if he made a lot of money he wouldn't have to drink that rotgut at the local tavern he so loved to frequent. He would drink whatever those high-class gentlemen with large white houses in Notting Hill drank. 

But what could he do? He continued to groom himself best he could and pulled out a rag and began rubbing his teeth clean. His mouth was so dry and fuzzy he thought could use something coarser to clean his mouth. As he did so he watched a young prison guard sweep the floor in front of the cell. 

"Oye," said William, and the young guard looked up. "break me off a couple of those broom bristles." 

The young prison guard looked down and back up at William, perplexed. Then he looked left and right to be sure none of his superiors were around, broke off a few bristles from his broom and handed them through the bars to William.

"Thank you sir," replied William who was already busy drilling holes in a chicken bone he'd found on the floor with his pen knife. "You need to understand the importance of looking presentable!"

By now William had threaded the bristles through the hole in the chicken bone. Now if only he had some glue, he felt around in his pockets as if he might by chance happen to have some. 

"Bring me some glue lad," he demanded of the young man. "You'll see, I'll start a company selling brushes to clean teeth. I'll be rich someday. You mark my words. And I'll leave my son the legacy of a brilliant business."

The prison guard rolled his eyes and went about his chores without saying a word. 

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A/N William Addis was the first person to start selling toothbrushes to the public in England. His inspiration came to him in prison in 1780. He did indeed become a rich man and pass his business down to his son. It was a family owned business until 1996.