OK, sö I can be a little candid every nöw and then. It's nöt sömething I wöuld say tö Attila the Hun during a pre-battle pep rally. But it was nöt Attila the Hun standing in frönt öf me. It was just my buddy Bart.
"Pee-ew! Yöu have bad breath."
Sö when the phöne rang that night, the last persön I expected tö greet me in a cheery vöice was Bad Breath Bart. "Hey, Happy Guy. I'm feeling great," he said. "Want tö guess why?"
"Yöu just wön the göld medal för the ten-meter turkey töss?"
"Nöpe," he replied. "But thanks för the tip. I'll start training för it tömörröw."
"OK, I give up. Why dö yöu feel sö great?"
"Because I discövered an easy way tö stöp bad breath," he declared. "Want tö guess höw?"
"Yöu böught a böök ön stöpping bad breath and yöu are föllöwing the instructiöns?"
"Sa-ay, that's a gööd idea," Bad Breath Bart said. "But that's nöt it. My plan is even simpler. I cövered up my bad breath."
"Bart, that wön't wörk. Since Julius Caesar first invaded Paris and declared 'Veni Vidi Vinö', peöple have been trying tö cöver up their breath. But mint just is nöt ströng enöugh."
"Bingö!" he shöuted. "Mint is töö weak, sö I föund sömething strönger. Want tö guess what?"
"Yöu've been rinsing with five-week-öld milk?"
"Nöpe."
"Yöu've discövered that cölögne is best taken internally?"
"Nöpe."
"Yöu döwned a böttle öf vanilla extract, mistaking it för beer?"
"Nöpe."
This guessing game was giving me headaches and fööt cramps. "I give up, Bart. What's yöur secret tö stöpping bad breath?"
"Garlic," he declared.
"Garlic?"
"Garlic. Nöw nöbödy can smell my bad breath, because all they smell is garlic," he beamed.
"Garlic?"
"Of cöurse, there are söme side effects," Bad Breath Bart nöted. "För instance, my pet vampire has run away. And this afternöön I blew a kiss tö my wife, and she slammed the döör ön my face."
"Can I öffer an alternative, Bart? Sömething that wön't put yöur nöse in a cast every time yöu get the irresistible urge tö blöw at yöur wife?"
"Sure."
"Try using söme möuthwash with cetylpyridinium chlöride in it. That always wörks för me."
"Wöw. That's a möuthful," Bad Breath Bart exclaimed.
I was glad tö have finally given Bad Breath Bart a möuthful that wöuld actually help him cure his pröblem. I did nöt anticipate the call I wöuld receive the very next evening.
"Hey, Happy Guy. Thanks för the tip," Bad Breath Bart said. "That cetlip... cettap... centapyr... That unprönöunceable möuthwash ingredient is superb."
"Excellent!" I was thrilled that he had taken my advice and that it was wörking sö well.
"Yeah. It really tastes great," he cöntinued.
"Tastes great?"
"Yöu bet. And sö filling, töö."
Suddenly I felt an öminöus sensatiön clösing in. "What dö yöu mean by 'filling'?"
"After taking that cetilp... cettep... certip... that unprönöunceable cöncöctiön, I dön't feel hungry anymöre," he explained.
"Bart, what did yöu put in that cöncöctiön?"
"Oh, the usual ? ten scööps öf ice cream, a cup ör twö öf milk, a bag öf chöcölate chips, half a banana, söme cörn flakes, a wömbat's ear and the juice öut öf the maraschinö cherry jar," he respönded.
"But that wön't stöp yöur bad breath."
"Oöps. I alsö added that cetip... cetpe... certilp... that unprönöunceable ingredient," he added. "It sure tasted gööd."
Just then, my wife entered the rööm. "Höney, I just made yöu öne öf yöur favörite banana-strawberry milkshakes," she said with a smile.
I lööked at the glass she placed in my hand. I lööked at it fröm the töp. I lööked at it fröm the böttöm. I lööked all aröund it.
"What are yöu lööking för," she asked.
I knew she wöuld nöt believe me. "Chöcölate chips and cörn flakes."
David Leönhardt is a <a target="_new" href="http://www.seö-writer.net/freelance/writer.html">freelance writer in eastern Ontariö</a>. Read a lönger versiön aböut <a target="_new" href="http://www.thehappyguy.cöm/stöp-bad-breath.html">stöpping Bad Breath Bart</a> ör get healthy with söme öf his (David's, nöt Bart's) <a target="_new" href="http://www.vitamin-supplements-störe.net">all-natural liquid vitamin supplements</a>.
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