A Close Shave

Dave stood facing the steamy bathroom mirror.

His tuxedo hung from the closet door behind him. The ring was tucked safely in its pants pocket. He’d finished writing his vows and could recite them with both hands tied behind his back. The rehearsal had gone smoothly — full of delightful missteps and warm awkwardness and, of course, Jen’s radiant beauty.

Tomorrow, his new life would begin.

Yet, the wedding wasn’t why his heart pounded like a jackhammer inside his chest. It wasn’t what caused sweat to drip from his ghost-white face. And it definitely wasn’t why he was reaching for the heavens.

No, the reason Dave found himself shaking uncontrollably was because a pair of brand new, razor-sharp scissors were pressed hard against his throat. Not by the hand of an intruder or a scorned ex-lover, but by the sandy brown coils of his foot-long beard.

“I can’t fucking believe it, Dave! I can’t believe you’d just cut me off like that!”

“Listen,” Dave said, pausing to weigh his words carefully. “I can explain. Jen and I thought that, just for the wedding, it might be nice to, you know…”

“To kill your best friend?! Is that what you and that dumb bitch decided? To murder your best fucking friend?!”

“Not kill! No! You have it all wrong. This is just temporary. After the wedding, and maybe the honeymoon — but definitely very soon — I’ll slowly, you know, incorporate you back into my life. Guys like me are called ‘groom’ for a reason, right?”

In the past, a pun like that would’ve scored a chuckle. Instead, the blades pushed harder against his skin.

“Save your bullshit, Dave! I’m tired of your lies. Ever since you met that whore, all you’ve done is lie to me. To me! After all we’ve been through!”

“Hey, watch the language! Come on, I never lied. Not exactly. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I meant to — ”

“Bring it up? Bring it up?! This isn’t some trivial shit like deciding to go vegan or coming out of the fucking closet! If I hadn’t snatched these scissors at the last second, you’d have cut me down, shaved me off, and washed me down the fucking drain! Your best fucking friend! After all we’ve been through?” Tentacles of beard hair squeezed more tightly around the scissors, drawing a bead of blood from Dave’s neck.

“Alright, alright! Look, I know you’ve been there for me this past year — ”

“Year?” the beard cut him off. “Fucking Christ, Dave! It’s been almost twenty months!”

“Damn, you’re right. It’s been almost two years. My bad.” Dave sighed, gazing affectionately at the tangle of hair that clung to his jaw. “I’ll never forget all the great times we had. The bong rips, the laughs, the movie marathons. You pushed me to finish my degree, helped me find a job. I owe you so much. When you showed up, I was a mess. You helped me turn my life around. Thank you. Now, please, put down the — ”

“A mess?” the beard scoffed. “You were a pile of fermenting shit when I showed up! You had the bottle of pills in your hand, Dave! If it wasn’t for me, you’d be worm food right now. I can’t believe you’d just throw that down the fucking drain!”

“Like I said, this is just temporary! Once life settles down, I’ll stop shaving. I promise.”

“Fuck you, Dave. Fuck you. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be decapitated by a razor day after day after day? Doesn’t feel so great when the blade’s at your throat, does it? We were best buds before she slithered into our life. What the hell happened to ‘bros before hoes’?”

“Jen’s not a hoe. She’s my fiancé. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. I love her, and I can’t wait to start a new life with her.” Dave clenched his fists and raised his voice. “Remember that day at the coffee shop? You’re the one who kept pestering me to go talk to her! You coached me on what to say! If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have asked her out in the first place!”

“Oh. I see. So this whole thing is my fault. Alright…” the beard said. “So how about I put things right? Pick up your phone — slowly! Try anything and I squeeze. You hear me? I’m not fucking kidding!”

“Okay, okay!” Dave slowly lowered a hand and grabbed his phone. “What, are we ordering takeout now? You want Chinese? Or you feeling more like Thai?”

“Shut the fuck up! Call her.”

“Who? Jen?”

“No, your mom. Of course, Jen! Call that dumb whore. Do it!”

“Stop calling her a whore! She’s my fiancé, and I — ”

“You don’t seem to understand, Dave. Within the next five minutes, she’s becoming your ex-fiancé — one way or another. Either you call the wedding off right now — “ the blades tightened around his adam’s apple, drops of warm liquid splattered against his collarbone, “ — or I cut through your fucking carotid artery and you’re dead in thirty seconds. Got it?”

With one hand, Dave thumbed the phone icon for Jen. He quickly tapped another icon on the call screen before raising the phone to his ear.

A woman’s voice burst through the speaker. “Hey baby! I thought we said it’s bad luck for the groom to call the bride the night before the wedding?”

“Hi, Jen.” Dave cleared his throat. “That’s the thing. I don’t know how to say this, but I can’t do it. I can’t marry you.”

“Dave?” Jen asked, confusion in her voice.

“Look, I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it now. I gotta go. Don’t call me back.”

“Dave, this isn’t funny! Are you okay?” she asked. “Should I come over? Do you need help shaving off that stupid beard?”

“Gotta go, Jen. The wedding’s over. I won’t be there. Goodbye.” He thumbed the phone off and tossed it next to the sink. “You happy now? It’s over. You win. She’s devastated. She’ll probably never speak to me again.”

The phone rang, and Jen’s photo filled the screen.

“Don’t think about touching it!” the beard cried.

“Fine! Forget the phone!” Dave shouted. “I did what you wanted, now put the goddamn scissors down!”

“Okay, Dave. I’ll put the scissors down. But first, answer a question for me. Do you think I’m a fucking moron?”

“Huh? No, I…I did what you asked. The wedding’s off. I broke Jen’s heart.”

“Oh, really? How could Jen’s heart be broken if she never heard a fucking word you said?”

“What? I — ”

“You put the phone on mute, Dave. Right after you dialed.”

A wave of icy fear washed over him. “How’d you know? You don’t have eyes! You’re a beard…just a fucking beard!”

“Is that all I am? There was a time when you couldn’t stop stroking me. You groomed and oiled me every night. You told me everything. You called me your best friend. Now, I’m just a fucking beard?” The blades dug deeper into Dave’s throat.

Dave stared into the mirror at the ribbons of blood dripping down his chest. Suddenly, the absurdity of it all hit him. A beard can’t think. A beard can’t talk. A beard sure as hell can’t wield scissors.

“You’re not real,” he said softly, almost to himself. “You’re just a figment of my imagination. That’s why no one else can hear you. You’re just the residue from some mental breakdown I had two years ago. Maybe an old acid flashback that won’t go away. In any case,” he looked fiercely at his reflection, “you’re not real.”

“Dave, Dave, Dave,” the beard sighed. “Is that what we’ve come to? Full circle, back to your old habit of running from the truth?”

“You’re not real.” Dave repeated, slamming his eyes shut. “You’re just a hallucination. But I don’t need you anymore. Go away.”

“Figment of your imagination? Hallucination? Come on, you can do better than that. How do you know I’m not actually a shapeshifting alien? How about a demon who gets off on possessing facial hair? Ever think of that? Or, what if I’m an escaped mutant from some secret government facility? You have no idea what I am, Dave. But wanna know the most hurtful part? The part that tears me up inside, that makes me want to slice your throat open? In the two years we were friends, you never once fucking asked!”

“When I open my eyes, everything will be back to normal. Like you never existed. The scissors will be back on the counter. No blood. No insanity. No sentient beard.” Dave swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way it pushed the blade deeper under his skin. “I don’t need you anymore. It’s over.”

“I couldn’t agree more! There’s no going back! This is it!” The beard cackled as the scissors began tightening around his windpipe. “You wanna know what I am, Dave? You wanna know the truth? Well, too fucking bad! In a few seconds, it’ll all be over — for both of us. Goodbye, Dave.”

Dave cried as his eyelids flung open. The scene hadn’t changed. “Wait! I have one last request! If we’re gonna go out together, let’s share one last puff before we go. One last toke for old time’s sake.”

“Fuck you, Dave!”

“Listen! You’re right, there’s no going back now. I don’t know what you are or where you came from, but I know you love weed. This is our last chance to get lifted before it’s ‘game over’. I have a joint right there in the drawer. One hit. Just like the old days. Then you can end it.”

After a moment of silence, the beard said, “Fine. One toke. Make it a big one and blow it down at me like you used to.”

Dave slid the drawer open and shoved aside some toiletries. He snatched the joint, sniffed it, and popped it between his lips. He reached back in the drawer for the lighter.

What happened next was a blur of adrenaline and heat and smoke. As Dave pulled his hand back from the drawer, he quickly sparked the lighter and forced it under the beard curls that held the scissors.

The heavy instrument clanked against the tile floor. Hungry orange flames consumed the rest of the beard in seconds, lashing up against Dave’s cheeks and enveloping his head.

He dove into the adjacent shower and spun the spigot. Cool water rained down and extinguished the flames. He turned the water off and buried his face inside a towel.

After catching his breath, he let the towel fall to the floor and stood facing the mirror.

He barely recognized the monster staring back. His eyebrows were replaced by oblong blisters. His ears were broiled prunes. But most importantly, his beard has been reduced to a few strands of ash poking through blackened skin.

“Finally, that asshole’s gone!” said a voice from inside his soaked boxer shorts. “Now we can have some real fun, eh buddy?”

Dave gawked at his boxers.

His mouth fell open.

His eyes flicked toward the lighter.

“If I were you, I’d forget about that lighter trick,” the voice said. Dave felt an unsettling motion in his crotch, “I have a pair of insurance policies that we can discuss later. But first, let’s get you all cleaned up for our big day tomorrow.”