Cuchulainn had plans to grow a magnificent beard, but after twenty days he only had slight sideburns and a goatee. He scowled at the mirror, hating his youth. No one took him seriously as a warrior until he broke their bones, He wanted to look striking. Maybe people would be more terrified if he had a brutal scar on his face. Unfortunately for that he would need to lose a fight or disfigure himself.
Life was unfair! Here he was, an undefeated champion with the face of a virgin boy. He may as well have exiled himself from society, he was so confused with shame. Yes, he would never set foot in public again, he would live alone like a mad beardless king. But why live at all? Suicide was more appealing, He would drink poison for breakfast. Yes.
A small spider crawled up the wall above the mirror. Cuchulainn let it onto his hand. He would set it free as his last good deed before he killed himself. He went out and let it go in the garden, where he met the housekeeper.
“Your beard’s looking great!” she said.
Although she turned down his offers to impregnate her, Cuchulainn decided to go on living.