Checkmate

I was sitting, faffing with my phone when I felt the weight of the good lady's gaze sitting heavily on me.

I looked up. Indeed, she was looking at me through oddly narrowed eyes as if peering through a blizzard of arse feathers.

Can I help you?

I asked.

Hmmm.

Was her response.

I don't know about you but that doesn't rate as much of a response on the boom-o-meter.

She was still squinting at me, like I was a Toad and she was ferret wearing a bow-tie.

I decided to go on the offensive.

You see something you like babycakes?

I growled seductively, running a thumb from ear to chin through the magnificently beefy foilage on my face.

Her face lit up.

Ah! Yes!

I could almost hear the mechanical clicks and scrapes as things moved into place in her mind.

She cocked her head to one side.

Do you remember, a few weeks ago, we were joking about and I said something like 'ha, it's not as if you could grow a beard anyway,' remember that?

I stroked the dormant brown bear that now nestled on my chin thoughtfully.

Hmm, I don't think I remember that at all. Nope. Not in the slightest?

Oh but I do remember you evil bastard. I remember well the assault on the very bastion of my mannity. I remember and I also never forget. My vengeance will be long and terrible and most likely penis shaped...

No, doesn't ring any bells...

I murmured, nestling back in the armchair.

She made a face as if eating Kimchi made of feet skin.

Well. Perhaps you don't remember... You have proved me wrong though. You can most certainly, without the slightest doubt grow a beard.

There never was any doubt sweetcheeks.

I said loftily, activating my selfie camera and taking another belfie of the beard.

Well now you have proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt feel free to shave it off?

She beamed hopefully.

I cast an eye at her like a ping pong ball at a frat party.

Hmm.

I responded enigmatically, twiddling what might one day be a twiddlable moustache hair.

Perhaps.