Lost in Greg's Beard

All was quiet in the Musick household save for a mechanical hum emanating from the attic. A keen observer watching from the across street might have noticed jet black clumps of material gently tumbling out of the chimney onto fresh, powdery snow.

A fine dusting adorned the brow of a snowman next door. "Is 'he snowman is growin Barnet Fair?" quoth the cockney lad next door. Indeed the snowman had grown a full chin-curtain by late afternoon. Neighbors stared at the endless stream emanating from the Viscount's chimney.

Flashback to yesterday. The Viscount peers nervously over his shoulder before turning down an alley, sure that he hasn't been followed. He's always uncomfortable with this, but he's addicted. In his pocket, an antique pistol, he hates to put it at risk, but the situation is dire.

One nervous finger on the trigger in his pocket, the Viscount completed the transaction. He acquired the rapid beard growth serum, but at what cost?

Four dollars.

Fifty cents shy of a beard wax, might as well get blotto instead.

Dejected, he stumbled into the closest watering hole and ordered his go-to hot buttered rum. The bartender glanced over, but quickly recoiled in horror. Greg reached up and felt hair quickly sprouting from his forehead, nose, and every other bare patch of skin on his face.

"Nonono again!" Greg rushed for the door, surrounded by the terrified looks of all those who laid eyes on him. Somebody must have spiced his first rum with beard growth serum. "Waitaminute is it full moon too?! Alright, i think i know who can help me" and Young Adam came to mind

Like Young MC and Young Thug, Young Adam was a rapper who chose his name as a nod to the youth of the streets. “Look, I can’t help you, Greg. I don’t know anything about beards. Try Sam. He’s got crazy hair. Oh, and call me Lil’ Adam now. Young Adam was already taken on Tik Tok.”

But Lil' Adam had a big heart. Despite his nefarious reputation for being a bad boy, he also was a regular volunteer at The Foundation for Lil' Finger Painters of America (FLFPA). His passion for finger painting was strong, only surpassed by his passion for a forbidden lover...

They were brought together one fateful day, when they reached for the same smock. The paint may have been tempera but nothing could temper his feelings for her. He said hello then tried to segued into asking her to paint with him. This was no paint by numbers... it was true love.

"Speaking of tempera" he said with the smooth confidence of a fully bearded Greg, "I have a half-finished adult coloring book waiting for me at home, would you care to join me"? She did, and they created beautiful pre-drawn art together. The first of many for years to come.