beardless

I just shaved off my entire glorious beard. First i attacked it unawares with scissors, and it writhed and flailed, but i persisted until i had tamed it down to a manageable length. It was then so humiliated that it allowed me, not without groaning softly, to slice it down to miniscule nubs with a disposable razor, and i finished the job by pressing firmly against my skin and mowing off the stubborn tufts that remained. For memory's sake, i kept thick sideburns. With these sideburns curly at the top, i look like a balding elf. Not far from the truth! When i am old and entirely bald, i wish to be seen as elfin, capable of darting between dark spots and leaping out suddenly upon innocent children, maybe even my grandchildren. They will be frightened of me and will refuse to visit me in the mental hospital when they come of age.
I played ping pong with the Mongolian, Battur, today. He is quite good, and we had some dashing rounds of slamming and returning. When we played serious games, i began to hear his Mongolian war-cries, which he later assured me were imitated shouts of either Chinese, Korean, or Japanese athletes on television, he could not remember which. I soon began to imitate them as well, and a jovial time we had, mocking these athletes and giggling girlishly. But the games we played were as serious as Chingis Khan's ruthless conquering of China. Yuuki, my old conversation teacher, and Danny, the religious Christian Anglo girl from Zambia, were playing as well, though not nearly as ferociously. Afterwards, Danny, Yuuki, and i went out to the fake diner, "Gasto", and enjoyed some hot drinks over some petty small talk involving animal rights and how it all relates to man's relationship with God. Of course, i brought all of it up and i was basically lecturing poor Danny, who simply sat politely and listened, offering a comment every once in a while, but mostly showing me a face of passively anxious uneasiness. My insistence that i can argue anything knows no bounds.
I shaved of the beard because i was sick of it, it was not new and fun anymore, and i missed my own face. Now i need not worry about shaving it off later, or getting questioned in a small room in the airport about my relationship with Allah, or having to worry about "trimming" it to appease my superior at work. Apparently, i began to look like a forest hermit, or worse, a ravenous Western barbarian desperate for spices to trade in Eastern Europe who will consume any Japanese who get in his way. Like the old days. They are safe, because i have all the spices i need. For now.