Saturday's Storyteller: "Cousin Anubis needed a shave."

by Belinda Roddie

Cousin Anubis needed a shave. He really, really did. Because when his beard starting collecting cobwebs, dragging its tail all along the floor, and spooking the dog because it thought it was a creature from the depths of despair, we all knew that it was imminent.

The only problem was that he refused to shave. Ever. He loved his long, rippling beard. He marveled at the colossal strands, tucking them into his pajamas before he went to bed. He washed his beard, combed his beard, buffed his beard, dyed his beard, and even ironed his beard. But all he would do was trim the split ends and the stray whiskers erupting from all corners of his mouth. He never shaved it.

My cousin Iris had tried everything to get Anubis to shave. She had tried coaxing, encouragement, threats, punishments, even trying to sneak into his room at night with scissors. She was never successful. Anubis's beard was like a ninja; it hid in the darkness and sprang out to defend itself whenever someone approached it. Seriously, it was like it had a life of its own, like it was a silver-black cobra lashing out with bristly fangs and hairy scales. His daughter never liked sitting next to him, when all of the crumbs from his bread and butter collected in the folds like dirt in cloth. His son preferred not to ever talk about it.

I, on the other hand, was a strategic little bastard who hated the beard so much that I dreamed about vanquishing like a knight throwing a spear into a furry dragon's face. And so it was decided one night, when Anubis was in the cellar and couldn't hear us, that I would find a way to shave his beard.

We were all finishing dinner, but Anubis had not been hungry, and he had thrown a small hissy when his daughter complained about a spider crawling in his beard. He particularly didn't like her paranoia that it would lay eggs and one day, he'd wait up with thousands of little spiders all over him. So I took the opportunity to lay out my master plan.

"You can't try the cutting it at night," Cousin Iris warned. "I tried that. It doesn't work."

"Yeah," Anubis's son added, "and he's even banned razors in the house. I have to go to my friend's place to shave. My friend's place! Do you have any idea how much it bothers his family to have me go over there every morning?"

"Plus I'm pubescent!" cried his daughter. "I need to shave my legs! I'm like an ape!"

"Now, now, everyone," I cooed, "everything is going to be perfectly fine. After all, you're looking at the man who made your uncle wear glasses, your aunt stop drinking, and your older cousin to take out the trash at exactly eight o'clock every evening. He always asks me to tell the gnomes. So I'm sure I can carry this out."

"But Anubis isn't Olaf," pointed out Iris. "He's not stupid enough to believe in gnomes."

"Don't give him that much credit, Mom," said her son.

I was using a napkin to write down my plan in pencil, a simple step by step outline. I passed it around the table and they all seemed willing to let me try it. We cleared the dishes and acted very innocent when Anubis came back inside, a little drunk and still very cantankerous. But tonight, he would have no idea what hit him.

We played a card game, took our baths, and all said good night. But while the others slept, I prepared. I threw on a large black robe, covering my face in a white sheet, and brandished a bedpost that had been broken off and stranded in my room. I walked with a deep sway, making ghoulish noises, and waited outside Cousin Anubis's room until he came out all groggy.

"What?" he grumbled. "What could possibly be the matter at this time of night?"

"Anuuuuuuubis."

He stared at me. Rubbing his eyes, he did a glorious doubletake. "Who are you?"

"Anuuuuuuubis."

His eyes bulged. "I demand to know who you are!"

"You must listen to me very carefully, for I am a prophet from the futuuuuuure."

"...Iris, is that you?"

I shook my head and pointed at him with a purposely crooked finger. He actually started to shake.

"Okay, okay. If you're from the future, then what am I going to have for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Oh." I tilted my head to the side. "Um. Bread and butter?"

I had nailed it. Anubis was quite frightened now. "Dear spirits, it's true!"

"Anuuuuuubis."

"What?!"

"If you wish to avoid a gruesome fate," I warned in my deep, rattling voice, "you must heed my woooooords!"

"What is my fate?" he squeaked.

"It haaaaaaaas..." I thought for a moment. "...to do with caaaaaats!"

"Nooooo!" he flattened himself against the wall. "Not the cats! Whatever shall I do?"

"It will involve a trip to the stooooore...where yooooou will buy a razooooor!"

Oh, now he was showing skepticism. He raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what?"

"ANUUUUUUBIS."

"STOP DOING THAT!"

"Get the razoooooor!" I repeated.

Did he fly for it. Only he actually didn't have to go to the store; he had actually hidden all of the razors and even cans of shaving of cream under the stairwell. He held a can and blade up to me, trembling.

"Goooooood," I bellowed. "Now shaaaaaave!"

"But - "

"ANUUUUUUUU - "

"OKAY, OKAY!"

And so he did. He cut himself rather badly, too. And when he came downstairs the next moment, no beard in sight, we all smiled and ate like nothing happened. Though now the next thing we had to deal with was a memorial of his beard as it hung from the doorway like a trophy.

I think that spider really did make it its nest.

This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.