An Open Letter to Zac Efron’s Beard
Dear Zac Efron’s Beard (his actual beard, not his newest girlfriend):
I’ve missed you.
While I’ll inevitably go to see That Awkward Moment specifically to see Zac’s perfect, naked ass in motion on a 50×70-foot screen, it’s me who’s been left feeling naked during his press tour promoting the film. Sure, Zac Efron is literally incapable of being unattractive, but I couldn’t help but to feel that something was missing every time I’d see him in an interview or on a red carpet looking like this:
It was you.
Granted, your presence isn’t necessary to make me want to bury my face in his ass, but you are still important. Imagine, if you will, what it would have been like if Rosa Parks had never taken a stand on December 1, 1955 or Jon Hamm didn’t let his enormous, freeballing dong have the autonomy to show itself anytime a swift gust of wind whipped across his pelvic area. You deserve your freedom, just as African-Americans and huge cocks warrant theirs!
Like an angel needs its wings, Tara Reid needs her morning vodka tonic, and Russell Brand needs shampoo, I need you. You’ve taken cherub, twinky Zac Efron from boy to man, from High School Musical to rehab, and potential Chris Hansen intervention to full-blown (legal) sex symbol. You’ve given joy to millions, like a flocculent Gandhi. Your radiance is surpassed perhaps by only that of the Aurora Borealis, your virility by John Wayne, and your wonder by the fact Courtney Stodden has a career.
That being said, I’d like to also formally issue a public forewarning that if you do decide to present yourself again, and I happen to run into you and Zac on the street, I cannot be held accountable if I lose control of my senses, rip my clothes off, and attempt to make out with him.