When Helga woke up, she could not feel a change. The birds were not chirping differently; the traffic outside was the same, and her mother was making a smoothie. Looking over to her closet, Helga saw the shrine she built to Arnold. Nothing new there.

Helga dragged herself out of bed and looked into the mirror. Her mouth dropped; her widened bulged in surprise. There, staring back at her, was the reflection of a blonde Gandalf.

"Well, I guess the tonic worked," she said.

But it more than worked. It really worked. Helga didn't just have any beard; she had a magnificent beard. Lumberjacks would be jealous. The most harry man on earth could not compete. Her beard was a gigantic Sycamore tree of hair, hanging and swaying in slow-motion from Helga's chin. It was more magnificent than she ever dared to expect. She ran her fingers through it again and again, admiring the course fibers and knots she undid with her fingers. Beards often hold the crumbs of snacks and past meals. Usually, men can eat these crumbs later in the day, when they become hungry. Helga's beard could hold entire meals, much more than a few mere crumbs. Who knew she possessed such skill at beard growing? Bob might be jealous and feel threatened as head of the household if he saw it. Helga decided to not show him her new growth.

Then something strange happened. Unexpected. Helga heard a deep, rich noise, comparable to the most beautiful yet terrifying noises a young girl can hear. At first, it was barely audible, but then Helga understood it was a voice. "Helga…" It said. She heard it again. "Helga…" It was the beard.

"Beard! You can talk?" said Helga.

"Yes, Helga. It is I, Beard. All beards can talk, Helga. Why else would men grow them?" said Beard.

"I guess that makes sense."

"Only a real man can grow a beard, Helga. By the size of me, I'd say that you are more of a man than any before you, or yet to come."

"Cool."

School was not ordinary that day. How could it be? When Helga went into PS 118, all the children gathered around her to admire her facial hair.

"Wow Helga," said Pheobe. "I didn't know you were so good at growing beards."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Phebes," Helga replied. Now, Helga was the most popular girl in the school. Everyone wanted to touch her beard. Some girls asked how they could grow beards like Helga's. Others were trying to take pieces and hairs from her beard, thinking a few strands might grant them the power to grow their own beard.

"Did you use some dark magic to summon this beard?" one student asked.

"Helga, can I name my future children after you?" asked another.

"Helga, something looks different about you," another said.

But Helga didn't pay attention to any of them. She heard Beard's dark voice resounding in her head with promises of glory. "With me, Helga, you will become the greatest king Hillwood has ever seen." Helga smiled and laughed manically. No one seemed to care because bearded fellows can laugh whenever they please.

When Helga entered Mr. Simmon's classroom, the whole classroom erupted into an uproar. Stinky saw it and decided to become an artist; Harold lost weight, and Curly stopped being a freak. Everyone was inspired. Even Arnold.

Arnold approached the bearded girl, looking down, rubbing the back of his neck. He was clearly nervous. Did he have something to tell Helga? "Wow, Helga. Your beard makes you look like Osama Bin Laden. I've never thought of you like this, but I now think I have feelings about-" He was cut off by Mr. Simmons.

"Young lady," said the teacher. "I think you better show Principal Wartz what you brought to class with you. Your beard is very special and should be rewarded with honor and status."

"Our hour has come," said Beard.