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"Well, that's might judgemental of you. Who are you to tell toothpaste what to do?"

Silas throws his hands up in the air.

"What the fuck Anna? Of course it can't explode, it goes in your fucking mouth!"

Anna's mouth opens to reply. Silas' eyebrow raises, and she rethinks what she was about to say. Their bodies begin to relax and she quickly snaps back into action.

"It's not like exploding disqualifies it as toothpaste, right?"

He stares at her.

"I mean, I didn't make a toothbrick or something. It's still a paste." She points at the substance, the toothpaste as it were.

"The shape is not the issue here."

"It's not so much shape as..." Silas interrupts her.

"I don't care if it's called shape or state of matter or whatever, Anna, that's not the point."

"What would it be, though?"

"What would what be?" His voice is losing strength. His shoulder are lower than they have ever been before in his life.

"The... whatever. The difference between a toothpaste and a toothbrick or a toothsalve. How do you define that quality?"

"I guess... I guess you'd call it the shape, right? That's why I said it."

"No, there has to be a real name for it. Scientists can't be talking about the shape of stuff. It's like mayo!" Her face lights up.

"Mayo?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's not a liquid. It's a... an emulsion, I think it's called."

"So?"

"So" now she seems irritated. And to be fair, it's not that hard to grasp. The question is rather simple, even if the answer is evading both of them at the moment. "So, what do you call that quality? The quality of being a solution, or an emulsion, or a whatever."

"Ok, fair enough" He sits down. Holding his head between his hands, Silas has to admit he is being unreasonable. "You did make paste. That much is true."

"Thank you!"

"But C4 is not toothpaste!"

"And this is not C4, so I don't see your point." With elegance, Anna refutes another baseless, nonsensical argument thrown her way.

"Then what is it? And don't you dare say toothpaste!"

"That's what it is, Silas. I'm not sure what you'd expect me to say here."

"It doesn't clean your teeth." He replies, smug.

"Have you tried it yet?" She retorts back, smugger.

"It would blow my head off." Is all the coward has to say.

"And I'm not disputing that." They both stare at the exploded, charred mannequin head on the floor. The silence drags for an eternity. Shivering, both look back at each other. "I'm just saying, we don't know if it cleans teeth yet."

"You know what, Anna? I don't care what it is. You are a hairdresser. You shouldn't be trying to invent toothpaste anyway. You are fired."

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't this, and that is wonderful. Such a deft hand at shifting the argument, and that ending! I want to see more of Anna's quest for a job. She's got great prospects in mad science, if she can find a job opening

Yeah, she's a bit confused, but she's got the spirit.

Glad you liked it!

“Well, no, but it is…” the scientist gestures grandly over the splattered blue paste before him “…diet toothpaste.”

“Hm. Diet toothpaste?”

“Yes!” He sputters, unable to hide his anticipation through his hazmat helmet. “Big Chompers Original Toothpaste, now packed with explosive flavor guaranteed to curb the worst of your cravings.”

He nods thoughtfully to himself and crosses his arms across his chest, a Rolex the price of a single family home peeking out from his sleeve. “Tell me more.”

The scientist is momentarily stunned by his boss’s intrigue, but doesn’t hesitate to hustle his new invention. “Have you ever brushed your teeth, only to feel defeated knowing you’d have to brush them again after eating fattening, sugary foods?”

“The law of diminishing returns,” he waves his hand impatiently, “sure, go on.”

The scientist thrusts a tube of toothpaste into the air, “Beef stew! Filet mignon! Chicken hibachi!” He waves it around triumphantly. “Big Chompers Original Toothpaste, the same brand Americans have trusted for over 50 years, now here to help you get that body beach-party ready!”

The toothpaste explodes, releasing a puff of broccoli and cheese smell. Blue specks flecked across the man’s Rolex.

“Are there vegan options?”

“Absolutely.”

“We’ll put it through trial.”