Bearded Skywalker

Today, Young Skywalker looking into the mirror, I noticed. Nothing unusual, this is. Sometimes kissing the mirror, I catch him. But looking even more than usual he was today. “Young Skywalker, wish to be alone with yourself, do you?” “Huh?’ “Looking into the mirror even more than usual you are today. Looking at what, are you?” “Oh, nah, I’m just checkin’ out my fly beard. Yo, check it.” Down he leaned so that see it I could. “Of what beard do you speak?” I asked. “What? You trippin’. Look, G, it right here on my face.” “See it I do not.” “Yo, it right here. You blind or sumthin’? Shuh.” Pointing to his face he was. Still see it I could not, so my magnifying glass I got out. “Oh, yes, see it now I can,” I said. A couple of stray peach fuzz hairs I did see. Very faint and very short they were. “It about time you noticed, G! I ain’t shaved in two months! Couple more days, I be lookin’ like Master Jinn, yo.” “Um, Young Skywalker, you know, grow hair some men can not. Nothing wrong with that there is. Still manly they can be…” “Yeah, like Mace-Dawg. He ain’t grow no hair! I’m sure glad I ain’t like ‘at! I gots chest hair and everything, yo.” “Really? Chest hair you have?” “Yeah, G! Check it!” His robe he opened just enough so that see his chest I could. “Where, your chest hair is?” Having trouble seeing this too, I was. “Dang, you is blind! It right there, yo!” Pointing at something small, he was. “Young Skywalker, a stray eyelash that is, I think.” “What? Nah, that ain’t…” with his finger he picked it off, “Ah nah, ah no! Ah, Mustafar, no!” Maybe why so much time he spends on the hair on top of his head, that is. All the hair he has, it must be.