The lack of a beard is only temporary. Give me two weeks, and we'll be back to some measure of hairiness. I trim my beard with an electric razor, and when I put on the beard-trimmer attachment, I can adjust the length of the trim: 1 is the shortest setting; 5 is the longest.
I'd been trimming my beard roughly every three weeks, and when I tried to trim my beard this morning, the trimmer had been accidentally set to 1 (because I'm senile), so when I took that first swipe at my face with the razor, I gouged out a lot of beard. With no way to repair such damage, I went Fuck it and shaved the whole thing off.
But as sure as the Easter Bunny will rise again and redeem us by shitting out its nuclear ass-eggs on that special Sunday, my beard will return. In two weeks, it'll be about halfway grown. In another two weeks, I'll be back to sacking British warships with a laser-guided parrot on my shoulder and a long, wooden dildo strapped firmly to my knee joint. Not because I'll be missing my lower leg, but because it'll look cool.
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