A man with a gorgeous, wizardly beard enters a barber shop. He has tears in his eyes.

Beard: Hi, sniff, I need a shave!

Barber: I can see that, Gandalf.

Beard: Yeah? I love the wizard look, but…

Barber: I can trim the sides; you’ll have a really clean look, my man. Come sit in the chair.

Beard: No, no, I can’t do that; I… you see… well, my wife!

Barber: The chair is comfortable; just sit.

Beard: No, my wife, you see?

Barber: What about her?

Beard: This beard, I love it. I love my beard—so rich, so full, so masculine. Pull on it; it is real! It is a real beard!

Barber: Come sit; I’ll just trim a little here and there and give you a clean look.

Beard: No, no, I can’t do that; my wife, you see. My wife!

Barber: Look, jerk, I didn’t open this shop to listen to men talk about their wives!

Beard: Let me explain: this beard catches everything!

Barber: I’ll trim a little; it will be lovely.

Beard: Oatmeal, soup, bread crumbs.

Barber: I understand.

Beard: Even my wife’s libido!

Barber: Your beard catches your wife’s libido?

Beard: Yes, so I have to do something. I have to… cut it off!

Barber: Hush, hush, don’t cry.

Beard: I hate crying in front of another man, but who else will understand me!

Barber: Hush, shh, it will be OK. Just sit in the effing chair man.

Beard, blubbering: I just want to live my life and be happy and feel like a man and there are all these pressures on me and I don’t know what to do or where to go! I hate my job and, and, and now I have to cut off my beard!

Barber: You have two options.

Beard: I know: shave or practice chastity.

Barber: Your options are, one, get a new wife.

Beard: Okay.

Barber: Or, two, trim the edges so the beard doesn’t catch so much.

Beard: But it catches the libido.

Barber: Exactly: the beard catches a lot of stuff—even the libido.

Beard: You suggest merely a trim around the edges?

Barber: Yes, in my experience, a trim around the edges releases the feminine libido.

Beard: Just a trim? And the libido will… flow?

Barber: Flow, fly, waltz, parade, I don’t know what your wife’s libido does, man.

Beard: Huh, now that you mention it… I don’t know.

Barber: Well, the feminine libido flees before soup droplets, crumbs of yesterday’s tea time, toothpaste from last night, or oatmeal from this morning. We will trim around the edges and send you home afterward to see what you catch—and what you don’t catch. Wink, wink.

Beard: Okay.

Barber: Come sit in the chair.

Beard: Okay. But…

Barber: Just sit; it won’t hurt you.

Beard: Okay, but I want to feel like a man after.

The bearded man sits in the chair.

The end.