Benny was your typical Viking. Strong, tall and courageous, he was the ideal viking in every way, except for one.

See, Benny couldn’t grow a beard. For all his 30 winters on Earth, he still had just as smooth a face as the day he was born.

This bothered Benny, because when he was out pillaging, nobody took him seriously.

Who is scared of a baby faced warrior that looks like he’s 16?

The final straw for Benny just happened at the last raid. His opponent laughed at him and asked the Vikings to send him a man instead of a boy.

Well, Benny might have slain that warrior for his crass comment, but his confidence was beginning to fade.

So that night, during the rioting, looting and pillaging, Benny got very, very drunk on mead and wandered out into a field.

“Odin!” he yelled. “Why have you forsaken me? Why have you cursed me with this face?”

Benny was surprised to hear an answer back.

“Benny! I have not forsaken you, why do you say such things?”

“Odin, how can I be a feared warrior when I cannot grow a beard? My opponents laugh at me and call me a child! I just wish to grow a beard like yours, one such that all will know me to be a man!”

“Very well,” Odin replied. “As you’ve been a good Viking, I will help you grow your beard… BUT!!!! If you ever cut or shave, I will turn you into an urn!”

“Odin, I would never do that,” Benny replied. “All I’ve wanted my life is to serve you and look like a man!”

“So be it,” Odin said. “But you have been warned.”

Benny passed out into a drunken sleep to awake the next morning.When he awoke, he thought it all a dream until he rubbed his face and where once was smooth skin like a baby’s bottom was now stubble.

“Yes Odin! Thank you! I will not forget our deal!” cried Benny.

By the end of the day, Benny had a respectable shadow on his face.

At the end of the week, Benny’s beard had come in.

At the end of two weeks, Benny’s beard had continued to grow and was now down to his chest.

His life was good, he had the respect of his fellow Vikings, his opponents feared him, and Benny had never been happier.

However, his beard continued to grow at an astonishing rate. At the end of the third week, it had grown to his waist.

His fellow Vikings were muttering about black magic behind his back.

At the end of the month, it was down to his knees, and in order to go into battle, he had to tie it around himself like a belt.

At the end of two months, he could no longer move without the assistance of a wheel barrow to carry his beard in front of him, he could not go into battle, and he his fellow Vikings were sure he was cursed.

Benny was despondent. He began to think to himself about how busy Odin must be. How Odin couldn’t possibly remember the agreement they had. How Odin must have forgotten him, for how else would his beard have continued to grow so much.

Benny couldn’t take it anymore. He took his belt knife, grabbed his long beard and just as soon as his blade parted the first hair on his face…

Poof!!! Benny was turned into an urn.

The moral of this story is: A Benny shaved is a Benny urned.