Undercover
The very handsome boyfriend was sporting quite the facial shrubbery the other day. He has a tendency to five o'clock shadows, but this was some serious beardage.
"You look like a pirate," I told him.
The next day he emerged freshly shaven from the bathroom to ask me if he was bleeding. He always asks me this after he shaves. Sometimes I'm just sitting on the couch, reading, and he'll half-shout, "Am I bleeding?" It's very good thing I don't tend toward panic.
He was not bleeding. I told him so. Then I said, "Guess you're not a pirate anymore."
"Maybe," he said, "I'm an undercover pirate."
I had no response for that. Except, wow. Undercover pirate. That is quite a concept.