Hardly Working: Winter Beard

By

Owen Parsons

          EXT. BATHROOM

          KEVIN & JOSH stand somberly outside the bathroom door. ANU
          approaches.

                              ANU
                    What's going on?

                              KEVIN
                    Owen's in there shaving his winter
                    beard. We're giving him some space.

                              ANU
                    This is the women's restroo-

                              JOSH
                    Shhhh.

          INT. BATHROOM

          OWEN stares at himself in the mirror, a trimmer in his hand.
          This is an emotional, Old Yeller-style moment.

                              OWEN
                    Well, buddy. We had a great season.
                    But it's getting warm outside, and
                    well... it's time to say goodbye.

          He holds up his trimmer. Tense moment as it approaches the
          beard hair. He nervously drops it at the last second.

                              OWEN
                    I can last a few more months. It'll
                    be a mite itchy come August, but-

          CU on Owen's reflection in the mirror - his BEARD grows a
          superimposed mouth and starts talking with a wise,
          world-weary voice. Emotional music plays.

                              BEARD
                    It's okay, Owen. Don't be afraid.

                              OWEN
                    Who's afraid? I'm not afraid.

                              BEARD
                    We knew this day would come. It's a
                    winter beard's lot in life.

                              OWEN
                    Don't you dare say that to me.
                    Don't you dare be the brave one.

                              BEARD
                    I'm not some young September
                    stubble any more. No sir, Phillip
                    C. Beard's been around this face
                    once or twice by now, and he knows
                    that when the warm breeze of May
                    wafts across your whiskers, it's
                    time to journey on.

                              OWEN
                    You're name's Phillip?

                              BEARD/PHILLIP
                    Heh. Guess there's still a lot we
                    don't know about each other.

                              OWEN
                         (tearfully)
                    I don't how to live without you.

          Owen hangs his head, resting his hand on the counter. A HAND
          SHAPED EXTENSION OF BEARD rests atop his, comforting him.

                              PHILLIP
                    You'll remember. Hurry on, now.

          Owen braces himself, then jabs his beard with the trimmer.

                              PHILLIP
                    AGH!

                              OWEN
                    PHILLIP!

          He drops to one knee, a big patch missing from his beard.
          Phillip now speaks up to him from a clump of hair in his
          hand. Heavenly music plays.

                              PHILLIP
                    I see... the light of Providence.
                    All the beards that came before me.

          A bunch of SPECTRAL BEARDS appear and float around them.
          Close-up as he names them.

                              PHILLIP
                    Winter 2010. Winter 2009. And who
                    could forget, Lil' Scraggles, '08.
                    Your time was too short, my friend.

          Close on Lil' Scraggles, a thin beard with an earnest, Tiny
          Tim voice.

                              LIL' SCRAGGLES
                    It may have been an early spring,
                    but I'd not trade my time here for
                    all the mustache wax in Belgium.

          Owen spies a small floating tuft of hair.

                              OWEN
                    Who are you?

                              COLLEGE BEARD
                    I'm the chin beard you grew
                    sophomore year! Remember arguing
                    with your girlfriend that I made
                    you look so metal?

                              OWEN
                         (embarrassed)
                    Ugh. Now I do.

                              PHILLIP
                         (coughing)
                    Finish the job, Owen. Send me to
                    the Mountaintop of Eternal Autumn,
                    where beards roam wild and free.

          FADE TO: Inserts of disembodied beards floating through a
          Valhalla-style beard paradise.

                              PHILLIP (V.O.)
                    Where the flannel flag flies above
                    peaks that have never known summer.
                    Where untamed beards dip deep into
                    thick, savory stews without fear of
                    judgment. Send me there, to rustle
                    among my whiskery ancestors.

          Owen tearfully raises the trimmer to his face.

                              PHILLIP
                    Wait! My last wish...

                              OWEN
                    Anything, old friend. What is it?

                              PHILLIP
                    The last wish of all beards...

          Owen nods.

                              PHILLIP
                    Shave me... into a goofy mustache.

          End.

          POST-HUH:

          Bagpipe music plays as a portrait of Owen's beard hangs in
          memorium. Owen, in a goofy mustache, salutes it.