“It’s not the beard on the outside that counts, it’s the beard on the inside.”

Protagonist: J. H. Woolian (James Hubert Woolian), male, five foot ten and one half inches, thirty-two years old, medium build but compact and strong. James has chestnut colored hair with traces of white, especially by his ears, probably from the stress of his job and his upbringing. He has an epic beard, one that is almost long enough to cover his neck. It contains no traces of white hair, shines with great luster, and is uncommonly soft and smooth for beard hair. It also needs no trimming and stays at the same length. He has deep, knowing, light brown shining almost gold-like colored eyes that hide his underlying kindness beneath.

                James is a police detective for Santa Barbara, California and has been for almost six years. At age twenty-six, he was the youngest officer ever to achieve detective rank. This is because of his strong work ethic, high level of ingenuity and street smarts, and academic drive. He is generally very gruff in nature and seemingly hard to get along with, but has a kind streak that slips out very occasionally.

                 Despite having already been born with a great sense of wonderment and academic pursuit James developed his extremely strong work ethic and gruffness almost solely from his father, who instilled it in him through constant and varying forms of both verbal and physical challenge. His mother died during childbirth, a sore point never addressed between him and his father. James’s father would constantly ridicule him about not being man enough to accomplish this task, or not being man enough to accomplish that task, however trivial. On one such occasion, which would spark a massive turning point in James’ life, his father ridiculed him for not being man enough to grow a beard. He was ten years old at the time. At this insult, James was infuriated and determined to prove his father wrong. He retired to his tree house (of which his father had made him build from scratch, against his will,) and went to work with his “My First Chemistry Kit.” Upon creating a concoction containing almost every chemical in the set, James applied it to his face, but to no result. Not until he stepped into the beam of sunlight that was magnified through his extra large “My First Nature Exploration Kit,” magnifying glass propped up in the window, did any effect take place. The super concentrated rays of light reacted with the chemicals, instantly producing the epic beard he has today. James soon found out that such a beard was no laughing matter but a great responsibility. He would come to learn he could manipulate its shape at will and if shaven, upon direct contact with sunlight it would re-grow to its original state in a matter of seconds. After such an event, his father still continued to push and never encourage or show signs of genuine respect. He even went to lengths to build a small mine in the backyard for James’ to work in, just so he could, “Toil hard and learn the meaning of true labor and what it takes for a real man to earn his beard.” At age fifteen, James won the coveted “There Will Never Be a Greater Beard in All of Time Award,” from the World Beard and Moustache Championships, without even entering. After finding his father still unimpressed he packed a bag with a few essential possessions; a picture of his mother, his “One Hundred and One Beard Styles for the Modern Man,” book for manipulation reference, a pocket knife, and other assorted academic tomes. He left home on that warm summer evening of July 12, 1961 with the determination to become a policeman, for if he couldn’t gain the respect of his father, he would gain the respect of everyone else. With the parting words of “Mom would’ve loved my beard,” he was never to return but always to regret the statement.

James gained knowledge of the streets where he worked a number of jobs, including bouncer for a shady bar called Louie’s Booze Pit, Hasidic Jewish shtofener hat model, and Four Seasons Hotel omelet chef, before being old enough to enter the police academy, and as we know, continue on to make detective.

Antagonist: Lance Clayton, male, six feet one inches, thirty years old, feathered blonde hair, fit build. He has a strong jaw line, cut in a manner that could be considered “classically handsome.” His face is ludicrously smooth and always unshaven. His eyes are a piercing blue that hold an intimidating façade of kindness and sincerity but contain none of such qualities underneath. He speaks with a smoothness to rival his face and is fluent in French, Icelandic, Spanish, and Hebrew, all of which were learned exclusively to impress a woman. He is the son of a senator and owns and runs an import/export business (of shaky moral ground) out of Santa Barbara.

                Lance grew up, one could say, with a silver spoon in his mouth. Of course, one would be wrong, because the silver was platinum and lined with diamonds, but it’s easy to see the mistake. His mother cared mostly for her status and thus instilled in Lance an innate impulse that all women are this way. His father felt it necessary to praise Lance in any given scenario, developing in him from an early age a grand ego and a misguided sense of entitlement. Through the occasions when he felt not properly commended, he soon learned that via manipulation one could gain all the praise, and more importantly anything else, they could ever want. In this way he continued to sharpen his social and manipulative skills, as well as his intellect and would always rise to the top of the ranks in any institution he was involved with. The earliest such occasion of this can be seen in the first grade, when by lunchtime of the first day of school he had not only amassed the largest crayon collection of any student, but successfully convinced the teacher that recess should be extended by fifteen minutes that day, and three additional minutes each day after, if the continued health of the students were to remain her top priority.

                At age sixteen, upon receiving non-manipulated attention from most of the girls in his class, Lance became aware of his own physical beauty. He became especially entranced by his face and facial structure and found that he could not help but consistently run his hands across it with marvel. When he first began to show signs of stubble, a phase that any young man might embrace with eager wonder, he was horrified and appalled. He proceeded to convince his father to send him to Switzerland to undergo a costly and experimental procedure to have his face essentially “sealed,” in a state of fuzz-free silkiness. Thus for the rest of his life he is unable to grow a beard and in actual fact has the smoothest face on the planet. It became so unnaturally smooth that he discovered it could essentially deflect objects that would normally cause damage to a regular face. This discovery was brought on during a high school baseball game in which the pitcher of the opposing team lost control and beamed the ball directly at Lance’s face while he was at bat. The ball proceeded to simply be redirected, continuing its original motion as well as being mistaken for a struck foul ball.

               After high school, Lance went abroad for many years and used his superior intellect and social charms to gain invaluable business contacts, most of which were situated in the crime world. He found criminals were some of the easiest to manipulate and had no moral dilemma with his involvement in crime, for it was just another way to get what you wanted. From here on he returned to his hometown, Santa Barbara, and established his new “import/export,” business. Import illegal goods, such as exotic weapons, and incredibly exotic animals, and export money. By his nature, he continued to increase his social status, gaining the trust of most of city hall and the respect of the police department. Only a certain bearded super cop remains unimpressed and suspicious.