A long time ago, when the world was a simpler place, there lived a lumberjack.
A lot of lumberjacks, really, but one in particular.
He was born to a family of lumberjacks. Even his mother and 4 sisters had thick, bushy beards, as all lumberjacks did in those days.
He had a problem, you see. He couldn't grow hair on his chin. No matter how he tried, all he could muster up were a pair of solid, furry muttonchops, which were exceptional in their own way, but earned him scorn from the other lumberjacks, who saw no value in a beard with no chin, and gave him the cruel nickname Chops to remind of of his deficiency.
He heard of a princess one day, though. Had a magic banjo, they said. A magic banjo that granted beards. That's what the legends told of, anyway.
It turns out that as ridiculous as that was, there was indeed a princess who possessed a magic banjo, but her story was not such a rosy one as the stories had made it out to be.
You see, there was a curse. A curse put on her by her evil ex-mother-in-law. The spell kept her imprisoned in her castle, and only a kiss could release her. Which would be no biggie, except that the curse also forced her to play the magical banjo for anyone who came to her, and that playing of the magical banjo produced such a beard as to make a kiss simply impossible.
To the 'jack, however, who didn't know, she was just a means to an end, despite being eternally cute as all get out, another condition of the curse thrown in there just to make things that much more frustrating for her.
So he made his way to her castle, through swamps and deserts, and trees. Right through the middle of trees. He hadn't considered going around trees because he wasn't too bright, and hey, he had this fucking axe so why not, is what he figured.
And so it came to pass that he came to her door, covered in cuts and scrapes and woodchips and whatnot.
Wearily, she picked up the banjo as he entered, wanting to get it over with so she could get back to knitting nets for catching hippies and dolphins.
He smelled of hickory smoke and fighting. As he limped in wearily and smokily, he looked up at the banjoist, and saw something magical.
Not the banjo, either. Well, yes, the banjo was magical, but not metaphorically, which is where we're at here, narrative-wise.
Looking at the girl, you see, was the magical thing. He'd seen women in his life, no doubt about that, but this one was different.
She had an intangible quality to her that affected him deeply, a presence, and also a profound lack of facial hair, which was novel and kind of sexy.
He wanted to go chop down every tree in every forest to produce lumber for her, if that's what she wanted. He found himself producing a certain amount of lumber just standing there, if you know what I mean.
As he gaped, he could feel the follicles in his face come alive and start to grow. He brought his hands up to his face, and his delight turned to dismay, as he realized his chops were growing like wildfire but his chin remained shamefully bare.
At his groan of despair, she looked up from her depressed banjoing and stared at the gloriously bare chin and accessible mouth, a sight she'd not seen in a truly long time.
She got up and approached him, still banjoing that magic banjo, eyes locked on his lower face. He turned away. "No! Look not upon my hairless shame!", he whispered hopelessly, wanting to chop down a tree and use it to hide himself from this magical creature.
Being a good deal quicker than he, mentally speaking, she pointed vaguely and shouted, "oh no, a tree!", and at that, he looked around wildly to see what kind of tree could have sneaked into the room so quickly, and what the best angle for axing it would be. While he was distracted, the still- playing princess lunged in and laid a smooch on him that had been waiting to go and getting seriously frustrated for nearly twenty years now. Seriously. She probably tasted a little bit of lung; that's the sort of thing I'm talking about here.
There was a sound of fireworks. It was actually the evil ex mother in law's spell backfiring explosively and blowing her all the way to florida, but as far as the couple we're paying attention to were concerned, it was pretty much irrelevant, much like their clothes, which were mostly draped over furniture in shreds, at this point. They were probably boning, but I'm not gonna say for sure in case your kids are still reading this.
And that was pretty much that.
A lot of lumberjacks, really, but one in particular.
He was born to a family of lumberjacks. Even his mother and 4 sisters had thick, bushy beards, as all lumberjacks did in those days.
He had a problem, you see. He couldn't grow hair on his chin. No matter how he tried, all he could muster up were a pair of solid, furry muttonchops, which were exceptional in their own way, but earned him scorn from the other lumberjacks, who saw no value in a beard with no chin, and gave him the cruel nickname Chops to remind of of his deficiency.
He heard of a princess one day, though. Had a magic banjo, they said. A magic banjo that granted beards. That's what the legends told of, anyway.
It turns out that as ridiculous as that was, there was indeed a princess who possessed a magic banjo, but her story was not such a rosy one as the stories had made it out to be.
You see, there was a curse. A curse put on her by her evil ex-mother-in-law. The spell kept her imprisoned in her castle, and only a kiss could release her. Which would be no biggie, except that the curse also forced her to play the magical banjo for anyone who came to her, and that playing of the magical banjo produced such a beard as to make a kiss simply impossible.
To the 'jack, however, who didn't know, she was just a means to an end, despite being eternally cute as all get out, another condition of the curse thrown in there just to make things that much more frustrating for her.
So he made his way to her castle, through swamps and deserts, and trees. Right through the middle of trees. He hadn't considered going around trees because he wasn't too bright, and hey, he had this fucking axe so why not, is what he figured.
And so it came to pass that he came to her door, covered in cuts and scrapes and woodchips and whatnot.
Wearily, she picked up the banjo as he entered, wanting to get it over with so she could get back to knitting nets for catching hippies and dolphins.
He smelled of hickory smoke and fighting. As he limped in wearily and smokily, he looked up at the banjoist, and saw something magical.
Not the banjo, either. Well, yes, the banjo was magical, but not metaphorically, which is where we're at here, narrative-wise.
Looking at the girl, you see, was the magical thing. He'd seen women in his life, no doubt about that, but this one was different.
She had an intangible quality to her that affected him deeply, a presence, and also a profound lack of facial hair, which was novel and kind of sexy.
He wanted to go chop down every tree in every forest to produce lumber for her, if that's what she wanted. He found himself producing a certain amount of lumber just standing there, if you know what I mean.
As he gaped, he could feel the follicles in his face come alive and start to grow. He brought his hands up to his face, and his delight turned to dismay, as he realized his chops were growing like wildfire but his chin remained shamefully bare.
At his groan of despair, she looked up from her depressed banjoing and stared at the gloriously bare chin and accessible mouth, a sight she'd not seen in a truly long time.
She got up and approached him, still banjoing that magic banjo, eyes locked on his lower face. He turned away. "No! Look not upon my hairless shame!", he whispered hopelessly, wanting to chop down a tree and use it to hide himself from this magical creature.
Being a good deal quicker than he, mentally speaking, she pointed vaguely and shouted, "oh no, a tree!", and at that, he looked around wildly to see what kind of tree could have sneaked into the room so quickly, and what the best angle for axing it would be. While he was distracted, the still- playing princess lunged in and laid a smooch on him that had been waiting to go and getting seriously frustrated for nearly twenty years now. Seriously. She probably tasted a little bit of lung; that's the sort of thing I'm talking about here.
There was a sound of fireworks. It was actually the evil ex mother in law's spell backfiring explosively and blowing her all the way to florida, but as far as the couple we're paying attention to were concerned, it was pretty much irrelevant, much like their clothes, which were mostly draped over furniture in shreds, at this point. They were probably boning, but I'm not gonna say for sure in case your kids are still reading this.
And that was pretty much that.
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