As Mitchell Oswald brushed his teeth that morning, his mind began to wander. It wandered to a place he'd never allowed it to go, and after a few moments he realized that the sound of the foamy bristles massaging his off-white teeth in small circular motions had stopped. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, completely still, toothpaste bubbles dripping off his chin. He wasn't sure of a lot of things.

One such thing he wasn't sure of was when or how exactly he'd become the biggest asshole in the world.

He always tried to do what would generally be accepted by most people as the right thing -- within reason -- and he never wronged anyone on purpose. (Other than that one guy that one time, but the jerk had it coming to him, and the shoes weren't ruined, so it wasn't THAT big of a deal.) Sure, Mitchell didn't go out of his way to truly help anyone, but he figured not going out of his way to harm would even that out effectively.

A modest man of modest means, he certainly didn't seem like a natural choice for biggest asshole in the world.

Now, it seemed -- as he stared at himself in the foggy mirror, mouth hanging open slightly, toothbrush lazily hanging out, minty white foam and paste dripping everywhere -- that it was so obvious.

D.J. Kirkbride