Troy: Gone Rum VI - Of Facial Hair and the Lack Thereof

"This, my friend, is a pint," said Paris pleasantly as Hector approached the table.

"Now where have I heard that before?" asked Hector. "Oh yes, the Fellowship of the Ring, wasn't it? But anyway, you've got it all wrong!"

"How so?" asked Paris curiously as he sipped some ale from his "pint." Suddenly, Hector whipped a twenty-five gallon mug out from under the table and slammed it down with a mighty crash. Paris choked on his ale, and his eyes grew as large as round pop-tarts.

"Now this," said Hector proudly, "is a pint."

"Where- where did you get that?" stammered Paris in utter disbelief.

"You'd have better luck asking me about the meaning of life," stated Hector.

"What's the meaning of li-" began Paris.

"Never mind!" snapped Hector. "As I was saying, this is a pint!"

"Ok," said Paris. "But is this the standard or European system of measurement?"

"You shouldn't concern yourself with these trivial matters, Paris!" said Hector. "But, if you must know, it's the Trojan standard!"

"Is there a Trojan standard of measurement?"

"There is now," said Hector. "But, Paris, in case you were wondering, this conversation does have a point."

"It does?"

"It does."

"What is it?"

"Well," began Hector, "I want you to drink all of the ale in this pint."

"Why?" asked Paris, a gleam of curiosity in his brown eyes.

"Because," said Hector convincingly, sauntering around the table. He sidled up to Paris and laid a hand on his shoulder. Paris glanced over at the hand and asked:

"Why?"

"Because."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Why?"

"Because," said Hector again, grappling for words. "Because…it's my birthday…and we need to celebrate!"

"Is it really?" asked Paris, not convinced. "How old are you, then?"

"Uh…well," began Hector. "Well, I…uh…31, ok?"

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Paris consolingly. "Is that why you've been so depressed lately? Because you're so well advanced in years?"

"Um…well…yes!" spluttered Hector, confused. "That's exactly why! How could you tell?"
"Oh," said Paris, feeling very smug, "I have my own subtle little ways. Oh, I get it. If I drink this, it will cheer you up, because it'll make you feel like people are celebrating. Is that it?"

"That's it!" squealed Hector in mock enthusiasm. "Please, Paris! It would make me feel ever so much better!"

"Very well," said Paris, trying to look bothered. "If it will make you feel better." Paris scooted the gargantuan flagon towards himself.

"To my big brother, Hector," said Paris. With great effort, he hoisted the mug up and quaffed the entire contents at one draught. Hector's eyes bulged out, while his mouth fell almost to the floor.

"How- how did you do that?" he sputtered.

"Hiccup!" said Paris. "You, hiccup, should know by now, hiccup!" Remember that one time at the dinner table when, hiccup, I swallowed, like, all of the food at once? You know, back when you were on that 'exterminator' gig?"

"Oh, yes," said Hector. "I neglected to remember your odd capability of engulfing large quantities of edibles at one time."

"And don't, hiccup, you forget it again!" said Paris proudly. He hiccupped several more times loudly, then said:

"Hiccup, Paris out!" He pitched backwards to the tile floor and remained that way for quite a while.

"Phew," said Hector. "All right, everyone. You can come out now!" Priam crawled out of the gaping mouth of a large striped tiger skin in the middle of the room, Helen scrambled down from the ceiling chandelier, Tecton fought his way out of the closet, and Lysander crawled out from behind the ornate chaise lounge. Hector glanced at all present and grinned wickedly.

"I don't think he even suspected!" he chuckled.

"Well," said Helen hastily, "let's get on with it, before he wakes up!"

"Not to worry," said Hector. "Paris is out for at least two days!"

Two days later, Paris awoke from his drunken sleep and squinted around at his surroundings. He realized that he was sitting in a mud puddle, next to a single palm tree, on a deserted island, which was less than ¼ sq. acre large, out in the middle of the Aegean Sea!

"AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" screamed Paris in distress. After he looked around a bit, he discovered a note, which read:

"You can use the coconuts from the palm tree for food. We'll be back to pick you up in three weeks! Ha ha. Have fun!"

"Grrrr…" growled Paris irately. "That Hector deceived me!" Then, he began to sob uncontrollably.

"I don't have my nail file, my lip balm, my facial cleanser, my black-head strips, my exfoliating lotion, my mirror, my face and body wax, my razor…" Here he gasped. "My razor!" He began to sob even more. "Why, without my razor, I…I…I'll grow facial hair!" He buried his face in the mud and began to mourn.

Three weeks later:

"I'm so excited to see the new Paris!" exulted Helen. "It's been terrible being married to someone more girly than myself. If he can't shave, he'll have to grow facial hair!"

"Yes," agreed Hector. "I just hope that he hasn't gone insane. You know how afraid he was of growing facial hair."

"I know," said Helen.

Presently, the ship drew near the location of the island. The first they could see of it was the silhouette of a palm tree. Next to it was the dark outline of Paris jumping up and down for joy. When they reached him, they got their first glimpse of 'the new Paris' as they called him. Well, aside from being rather emaciated and uncommonly grubby, there wasn't much of a difference. However, Hector and Helen did notice a bit of peach fuzz on his chin.

"It was a good effort," said Paris, laughing, "but you'll have to leave me here a bit longer than that if you want me to grow adequate facial hair! It grows rather slowly. Wait…where are you going? You can't just leave me here again! Pleeeeaaasse noooo!"

"We'll be back in a year or so!" Hector shouted back.

"Yeah, yeah, great!" mumbled Paris cantankerously.

During the course of that year, Paris/Gilligan decided to make himself a new friend. So he plucked a coconut and carved a face in it with a rock. He dubbed it "Reebok" and he talked to it all the time. In fact, Paris grew so attached to Reebok that he began to think of him as a real person. Reebok "helped" Paris with his day-to-day "work". This included sleeping, looking for ships, sleeping, looking for ships, sleeping, trying to fish (but failing), sleeping, chopping down the only coconut palm tree with a sharp rock so he could try to make a fire (which he couldn't), sleeping, pacing, sleeping, trying to keep clean while pacing, sleeping, looking for ships, digging for gold, looking for fish (which he couldn't find any because they were all in the water), trying to use the water as a mirror (which didn't quite work either), looking for food, pacing, and sleeping. Reebok helped Paris a great deal during all of these arduous tasks. He provided moral support. But since Paris/Gilligan wasn't very bright, he had destroyed his only source of food (the coconut palm tree). When he realized this, he put the best face on it that he could. Little by little, he ate the tree: leaves, trunk, and all. And it sustained him for quite some time. But when Gilligan, I mean Paris, ran out of tree, he become conscious of the fact that there was no other food left on the island but himself and Reebok. Now, Paris loved Reebok dearly, but when push came to shove, he loved himself more. So he ate Reebok.

A few days later, Hector and Helen returned to the island. What they found surprised and astonished them. They found Paris (who, by then, had a sufficient amount of facial hair) cradling the two halves of a cracked coconut shell with a face on it, sobbing:

"I'm a murderer!" Hector was ashamed of his brother's behavior, especially in front of Helen. But he decided to humor Paris, all the same.

"What, Paris?" asked Hector. "Who did you murder?"

"Reebok!" cried Paris plaintively.

"Who's Reebok?" asked Helen. Paris held up the shells, earning a dissatisfied eye rolling from Hector. He bent over and snatched them from Paris. Then, Hector hurled them down and ground them into the sand with his heel. They all heard the telltale cracking of Reebok's shell and Paris began crying even harder:

"Reebok! Reebok!" Then, they transported Paris back to Troy and gave him a nice, warm, bath. But he was strictly forbidden from shaving his facial hair (he could trim it from time to time, however) on pain of being sent back to the island to see the remains of Reebok. Paris complied willingly. And so everyone lived happily ever after, though sometimes at night, Helen would hear Paris moaning about his murdered friend…the coconut.

Finis