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?
And the hair, it came forth as though carried on a wave. And the chin was covered, and the cheeks, and the bits just under the ears, and the neck almost down to the chest. But alas, the upper lip stayed bereft, as least as far as anyone might tell. And the prophet spake again thusly:
On the whole, you should expect to start seeing telling results within a week, and some sort of “beard” thing within two. And no, there is no way to speed this up. Don’t go buying products advertising otherwise.
And the family rejoiced, and the friends were sore afraid.
And so it was predicted in the Book of All Things that the world shall see something new, a thing it may have imagined but was loath to request. Thus the prophet wrote:
Lo it shall be seen in the shortest month, the hairiest month. And all shall tremble in its admittedly-tiny wake. And have a gala beer party afterwards.
And there was much rejoicing.