TEN: The Double Digits of Terror!

"It doesn't even look like you," I say to Marc following my taking the picture on the right. I hand him the camera and he jumps.

"Sweet Jesus! Who is that?!" he exclaims. The blue haired friend with crazy boots, who came with Marc to my house this afternoon, just laughs. Devlin latches on to his beard. He is not afraid of it. The six month old child stares at the bushy beard in wonder. It's as if he's trying to understand the beard. What is its purpose? Can I eat it?

Marc tells me that some people at his work scoff at his beard. In a mocking tone, Marc recalls past jibs at his beard's expense, "Ya gotta maintain, man. Ya gotta keep up your look. You're just dirty," and so on. "Please," says the bearded wonder, "what in your life is as awesome as my beard? hmmm? NOTHING. And WHAT, pray tell, do you have to keep up appearances for? You hate your lives. You hate your WIVES. You hate your jobs. I have an awesome beard. I think we know who the winner is here... ME."

I laugh. Devlin gives his Uncle Marc's beard a good tug. "Yes, it's real," he seems to confirm.

The house grows quiet for a moment. The dogs have accepted the strange blue haired girl for the moment. Marc takes a deep breath. He launches into a story of a video game tournament he was in recently. Super Smash Brothers or something. Anyway, at some point he has to go up against a young girl who has brought along her even younger sister. The gaming action was intense and Marc's beard was sweating profusely. Then, without warning, the young girl won her match. She would now be going up against Marc in the next round. Her little sister walks up to Marc and asks him how old he is. "What does that have to do with anything," Marc replies while ringing out his beard.

"You have a beard."
"Sooo..."
"You're going to win."

Marc took this in while the little sister ran off to take care of the young girl who had apparently gone to vomit and cry upon learning that she'll be playing Marc soon.






Amen, brother. Amen.