Warm Fuzzies (short story)

"You're an idiot."
"No, I'm not."
My brother and I were discussing my participation in No-Shave November.
"Well, you'll look like one in a month," he snapped.
"But I'm not an idiot. I can name the first seven digits of pi."
"You don't even know when the Declaration of Independence was signed."
A beat.
"That's irrelevant. My thirty-day shadow will be beautiful." I stroked my eight-hour shadow.
"Mom will never let you do this. You've got performances this month, you know."
 "I'll figure out a way. Imagine that, Asian Grizzly Adams playing violin onstage."
"Asian Grizzly Adams?"
"Grizzry Adams."
We both laughed.
A beat.
"Shave it!"
"No!"