And it came on the tenth day, as a dream in the night. Our hero was defeated, shaven to the smooth skin of a baby, cut down before his time. But upon awakening, the hero found himself whole and untouched, filled with a new purpose. Oh, and itching like crazy. Therefore the Beard found itself buoyed by the thought of not just victory, but a day devoted to celebration and hairy merriment:
Others might not understand, but those kind of people drink soy milk lattes and wear designer non-prescription glasses. One day you and I will face the world together, every day. Until that day there will be one day, The Day, the day of days, El Dia Del Mustache.
And the hero was uncertain. Would he be worthy of this new challenge?