Shave Every Day And You’ll Always Look Keen

by Jeff Baker

“Mister Magruder.” The voice in the hallway was firm.

“Uh, yeah?” Lonnie said.

“At this school, you’re supposed to be clean-shaven. Even if you’re a senior.”

That was Mr. Eggelston, the Vice-Principal. He tried to run the school as if it was in an Archie comic book in the 1950s.

Lonnie sighed. He needed the graduation from the fancy prep school his folks were paying for to get into the college he wanted.

“It’s okay, Sir,” Lonnie said. “I have a razor.”

“It better be electric!” Mr. Eggleston’s voice followed Lonnie down the hall.

Lonnie sighed as he fished the electric razor out of his backpack. He rubbed his face. Yup. Looked like two days growth of beard, but he’d shaved that morning.

Damn the Moon, he thought.

He switched the razor on, glad he kept it charged for half the month. He pulled his face with his palm and started shaving, hoping that the hair wouldn’t grow back as he was using the razor.

Dark shreds of hair fell into the white sink. He was pretty pale in winter but not that pale. He muttered something as he shaved along his jawline and glanced in the mirror at the hair on his head. That was almost brown-ish, he mused. Wonder why?

Probably part of his heredity, he thought.

This was not a big problem, he mused. Just make sure to be home when the Moon was full and up so nobody noticed that he had a couple of weeks worth of facial hair in the full moonlight. The hair grew a little when the moon was waxing, especially close to full Moon.

Lonnie sighed, switched the razor off and stuck it back in his pocket. He splashed some water on his face and then stared at himself in the mirror. Not too bad-looking and his face had cleared up a couple of years ago.

Maybe that last was a result of the werewolf genes. He grinned. Eighteen years old as of last Saturday. Wow.

He rubbed his face again, glad that the only thing that happened was his hair grew. His arms itched a little. He sighed again. At least he could wear long sleeves in the winter. He remembered some girl he’d gone out with who’d been complaining about having to shave her legs.

Lady, he’d thought. You don’t know the half of it.

He grinned at the memory. What the hell.

He pulled off his jacket and shirt and the razor again and started to shave the hair off his furry arms.

—end—