"Yo, Sasquatch!"
The 'greeting' from a male voice to my right is accompanied by the guffaws and snickers of a few other males. I am standing in the shallow end of the neighborhood pool chatting with some friends. My friends look a little shocked and embarrassed by what we just heard.
I turn in the direction of the 'greeting' and see a young man in his late teens with two others about the same age standing on the pool's deck grinning cockily at me. All three are holding beers.
OK. He has insulted me, but I don't want to make a scene. Since I never have seen them before, I assume they are guests of the Fourth of July party another member is hosting at the pool. I figure the three are a little inebriated. I also am well aware that my back and shoulders could star in their own three part waxing series on YouTube, so I am not surprised they get noticed. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he intends nothing more than some good natured ribbing.
I give the guy a smile, and say, "Keep it down, will ya? If you blow my cover, all the Big Foot fanatics are going to swarm this place."
My friends laugh. His friends laugh. Awkward situation diffused, right?
Nope. He is not finished.
"Man, that glare is blinding," he says, looking at my dome and holding his hand up as if to shield his eyes. "You could transplant that (stuff) off your back to your head and still have enough left over back there to gross everyone out." He gives me a smug, challenging sneer.
That's it. I tried being nice. Since he wants to keep this up, the proverbial gloves now are off.
"Hey," I reply still smiling, "it took years for it to migrate down there, so I am not going to force it to repatriate at this late date... But," I continue as I cock an eyebrow, "since we are discussing places where hair doesn't grow, if YOU need a donor, I easily can spare more than enough from back there to make whatever you call that thing you're trying to grow on your face look like a real beard."
Oh, did I fail to mention he has a wispy bit of nothingness under his nose and some fine hairs in downy patches along his jawline and under his chin? The hairs are far too long to be excused as something that just happens when a guy forgets to shave for a day or so. His wimpy attempt at a beard is very obvious, unmistakably premature, and not at all impressive.
I continue to smile as my right hand does the pensive professor stroke down the length of my beard.
My friends laugh.
His friends REALLY crack up.
He, however, appears unable to take what he dishes out.
He glares and walks off, giving me a single finger salute and bestowing upon me a parting shot to go do something to myself that, as far as I know, is both physically and anatomically impossible. I just grin, and call to him that if he wants to go another round, I will be at the pool until 9:00.
Ok, maybe I should not have verbally hit him directly in his machismo, but I really wonder what he seriously thought was going to happen when he started up with that.