My normally unruly beard has become downright mutinous in the wake of my summer vacation from teaching. He has gained significant traction in the southern territories and threatens to overtake the border from chin to neck. It won’t be long before Beard and Chest Hair form an alliance.
Precautions have been taken. I’ve sent in a stealth team. If you look very closely in the southwest quadrant, you’ll see the Pony Tail Recon snaking their way over the shoulder mountains. Once enough intelligence has been gathered, a strike team will be sent in. Until then, pray for me.
Forgive my bare shoulders and the perfect view up my nostrils. If you want to blame someone for this intimate view of my beard, you can yell at Troy Blackford. He implanted these notions in my overheated brain with absolutely no forethought of the consequences, and now you’re forced to gaze upon these horrific photos. For shame Mr. Blackford. For shame.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the nut wrote a glowing review of my chapbook, Uprooted. The nerve!