A FUTURE OF RAZOR BLADES

Today I am going to shave off my beard, but not in a reckless, casual way. I am going to shave it off completely, and carefully, but in stages, allowing for a moment to pause and say “This is what I look like as an old President, with mutton chops” and then “this is what I look like with a fu manchu” and then “this is what I look like as a cowboy, with a handlebar mustache” and then “this is what I would look like if I were Charlie Chaplin, shaving at a stranger’s mirror and saying ‘My God, what have I done? My career is ruined!’ until I don’t look like Charlie Chaplin at all.” Finally: “This is what I would look like in the witness protection program, wearing a lime suit with three buttons, a false pair of glasses,  holding a book in my hands that I really haven’t read, a snappy blonde by my side who I have never met, hailing a taxi to New Mexico, my face bracing and clean from a smart smack of Aqua Velva with nothing to look forward to but the future and its perfect, smooth face.