Bronicles

It had been over a week since I had started growing a beard.

In that time it had gone from a few timid hairs to a masculine thing of fearsome beauty. I often found myself admiring it in the mirror. I looked like a savage. A wild woodsman. A druid of times past.

All of those things and more.

Its glossy lushness was forever attracting comment.

Today in work, one of the contractor guys, Wetty, who was working near me came over to my desk.

Hey, what's that?

He pointed at my rugged features.

I ran my fingers sensually through the hairy fog that wreathed my chin.

You mean my beard?

He grunted as if holding in a wet fart.

That's not a beard.

He appeared to be serious. I wondered if he was ok in the head.

I am afraid you are quite mistaken, Wetty, old chap. It is most certainly a beard.

It is not.

It is.

Mate, my little sister can grown a better beard than that.

I leaned back and stroked my majesty. (not a euphemism, that would hardly be professional, would it?)

Well, Wetty. Tell your sister she has my sympathies.

He scowled, apparently it seemed that only he had dibs on mocking his sister's wolf-like face.

Aye, very good. What's it in aid of anyway?

I gave out a soft whistle through my bristles.

In aid of? Need it be in aid of anything? I just decided to grow a beard. Us men can do that you know.

Wetty raised a hand self-consciously to his pale and naked face. Something which I, now a veritable Lord of the Beard, was beginning to find increasingly offensive in those men who shaved.

I could grow a better beard than that if I didn't shave for five minutes.

He sniffed defensively.

I ran my thumb along the shaggy wool that sprouted from my cheek.

Would you like to touch it?

I inquired.

What?! No way man, What?

Come on, get over here and give it stroke. You know you want to?

I tilted my magnificently haired cheek at him and teased him with my unhairy eyes.

He backed up a step.

You're not right.

I slowly got to my feet, Gandalf-like in my beardery.

Come on baby, touch it. Go on...

He made a face as if eating black pudding.

Eew. Beat it.

He turned and started walking away, muttering about men with beards.

Your mind says no but your body says yes!

I called after him.

He made a rude sign over his shoulder and disappeared round a corner.

I settled back in my chair and sighed.

It's not all easy for us handsome bearded men.