A fellow with a bigger and older beard than mine ( my beard is 1 this week!) is sitting at the counter of a café salting his coke a cola.
And thus my great American novel begins. But where do I go from here? Maybe the above is the beginning of my mediocre American short story.
The first sentence of this post is mostly true and maybe entirely so. I am not sure if his caramel colored drink was actually Coke. His salt and pepper (mostly salt) beard was huge. The teenage waitress, upon seeing him salt his soda, said, "You sure like your salt. I do too, but maybe not as much as you."
One more thing: I was planning a beard day party in honor of my hairy face but as you know, the road to hell is paved with party plans. In other words, just uttering, "Beard Day Party," was enough to satisfy that desire.