Here me now, O' mortal men. For I have a story to tell.
Way back, in the long long ago and forgotten time. A mighty axe was forged from the strongest of metals by elders of a long forgotten craft. This axe was bestowed with heavenly light and the strength of a hundred warriors trained since birth to wield deadly accuracy and a dancers precision. It was then buried beneath a stone and forgotten. Forgotten by all. But not the watchers. The watchers kept close eyes guarding this sacred axe until the day the chosen one would be ready to trim the hair of the gods bestowed upon his face. Such a man came forth finally and was given this axe. That man. Was Chuck Norris.<br /><br />The trimmings of his beard fell to the earth dividing continents, shaping lands. Those trimmings were collected and blessed by priest with names lost to the winds when they devoted themselves to the fine art of caring for, nurturing and crafting those hairs into the brushes you now see before you. These brushes are not for mere mortal men, but they are here. Now. Available for just that. I do not know how, or more specifically whom these were delivered from. I only know that we weak and foolish mortals were not meant to handle. No. Gaze upon these instruments of true masculinity and pure heart.<br /><br />For those who come across this brush and become a beholder of it. Know that forever you will be held under the watchful eye of the one. The chosen one whom gave of his fine hairs to create this.<br /><br />Each pass of these powerful unbroken hairs over your face begins to shape and transform your skin from that of a born man, to that of a near god. Tiny hands reach from each bristle to delicately lace your hairs in their embrace and sing a delicate lullaby only the ears of a newborn could hear. The hairs on your face will tense, tremble and give way to the overwhelming siren like song sung across each follicle. It will straighten any curled hair into that of divine measure. Some will try to escape your face. These are bits of your soul too afraid to be touched by something so pure and powerful. But fear not for they will eventually fall from your face.<br /><br />To know the feel of this brush, is to feel the touch of a hand. The hand of a god. The very god whom gave his fine hair to create this.
Rating: 5 stars