My Open Letter to the Brad’s Beard

Just a quick forward. I want to express myself appropriately and constructively during my time of impending grief, so I am writing a letter to the Brad's beard to share my feelings. I would also recommend you run this song in the background while you read this, to ensure a better reading experience. Thanks.

Dear, the Brad's beard,

Hi, my name is Iceman. I'm a friend of Brad's from work. You see me every day. I see you every day. If humans could have relationships with dead cells growing out of follicles, we would have a friendship.

You were there from the beginning. When I first took the 97 Rock tour as a student, to when I started my internship working in the same office with the Brad. Now, I'm the night guy, and I can honestly say you were there for it all. I vividly remember every time I have ever said something stupid, and could see you shrug on Brad's face. The way you would bounce when I said something funny to make Brad laugh. I'm just not ready to let go.

Don't think I'm weird. I know you're alive. Why else would Brad go through the trouble of feeding you cupcake frosting? I like cupcake frosting and I'm real. Therefore, Brad's beard, you are also real.

What am I going to do when you're gone and I don't remember what Brad looks like anymore? How am I going to know it's him when we're at the same concert? There's more involved here than just you and Brad. This affects everyone.

Brad's beard, you instilled in me the confidence to keep working hard. If Brad could grow a beard that massive, then I could check off growing one myself from my bucket list and put more energy into doing my job.

I hope you read this before the razor ensures your demise, because I want you to think of me when you hit the floor. You were a good friend to me. I'm just afraid that I won't have that kind of friendship with the next beard he grows. I don't like change.

Be strong, Brad's beard. The end is near, but so is a new beginning for you, transplanted on the face of some hipster.