There was a time when Allister let his facial hair grow out so long that birds mistook it for a nest. On days when he was feeling the urge to shave, he would inevitably brush against a robin's egg with his fingers. How could he rob these unborn bird-children of their home? He himself had once almost been robbed of his home. (His entire house taken from under him as he slept; He woke and ran to the authorities to report the theft, citing aliens as possible suspects. Days later, his home was found when a responsible citizen reported a house looking suspiciously like Allister's behind a barn and under some leaves.)
He thought about trimming from time to time, but realized the longer the beard, the more homeless robins he could shelter. And, thus, began Allister's longest period of facial hair. His mustache grew and dipped way past his chin, obstructing his mouth. At that point, he began to nourish himself with only liquid sucked through a straw, so as not to leave little bits of food in his beard-for the bird's health mostly. Three times a day, he crumbled pieces of bread and crackers and sprinkled these throughout his facial hair, but felt that anything more could stunt the growth of the baby robins.
His beard grew upward high enough to rendezvous with his eyebrows. And rendezvous they did and more so even, pushing past his forehead and flooding into his scalp. Skin became hard to make out as his neck was engulfed, too. Allister never felt dirty. He was constantly cheerful, feeling as if all his hair was finally getting a chance to meet. In fact, with the robin population steadily increasing, he had two merry gatherings going on at all times right in front of his eyes.
Allister's life could not have been better. He never needed a coat in the winter and when the heat got unbarable in the summer, he would simply strip down to nothing and pretend he was a woodland creature.
All was well beyond measure. So, why did Allister eventually shave? This I do not really know. Some say it was bad for his back. Others that he had over thirty species of lice warring it out all over his body. And Allister? What did he think? No one ever thought to ask him.
He thought about trimming from time to time, but realized the longer the beard, the more homeless robins he could shelter. And, thus, began Allister's longest period of facial hair. His mustache grew and dipped way past his chin, obstructing his mouth. At that point, he began to nourish himself with only liquid sucked through a straw, so as not to leave little bits of food in his beard-for the bird's health mostly. Three times a day, he crumbled pieces of bread and crackers and sprinkled these throughout his facial hair, but felt that anything more could stunt the growth of the baby robins.
His beard grew upward high enough to rendezvous with his eyebrows. And rendezvous they did and more so even, pushing past his forehead and flooding into his scalp. Skin became hard to make out as his neck was engulfed, too. Allister never felt dirty. He was constantly cheerful, feeling as if all his hair was finally getting a chance to meet. In fact, with the robin population steadily increasing, he had two merry gatherings going on at all times right in front of his eyes.
Allister's life could not have been better. He never needed a coat in the winter and when the heat got unbarable in the summer, he would simply strip down to nothing and pretend he was a woodland creature.
All was well beyond measure. So, why did Allister eventually shave? This I do not really know. Some say it was bad for his back. Others that he had over thirty species of lice warring it out all over his body. And Allister? What did he think? No one ever thought to ask him.
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