Wow. Here I am, world! Shiny, new, and clean. It's wonderfully exciting how pretty I look, all sleek lines and stiff bristles. This shelf has been nice, but I'm ready to go to a good home now. And look, someone adopts me! I'm so excited to be a part of this family! Look, my new home! Oh, dear god, what are they doing? Why would they stick me in there? It's disgusting! Disgusting!

At least they rinsed me off afterward. But now I've dried, they're not spending any time with me at all. I'm bored.

Oh, they're ba—ugh! Gross, disgusting, vomitous! Why must they do that with me? They don't even clean me with soap!

And now I'm bored again. Disgusting, bored, disgusting, bored.

Hey, what's this little hand on my grip? Oh, I'm being used as... as sword? That's... kind of fun! But... really gross. Put me back, kid! You don't want this!

Years pass, my bristles are wilted and discolored, and they toss me in the can. I'm with other castoffs, first in a truck, then on a barge, and now in a dump. Buried in junk, I'm waiting for something to break me down. If anything can.