Chapter 1537 – The Moustache Song

The newborn chal each sported a moustache made of fine, long hairs that drooped down from either side of their faces, just above their mouths. They weren’t particularly thick, just a few whiskers on either side, but Theresant was quick to notice that the specimen before her had several small fibres stuck to its moustache.

This was unacceptable.

She didn’t know anything about grooming molluscs, or facial hair, but it was clearly unacceptable to have the hatchlings sliding about the place while unclean! Not wanting to jump to conclusions, she slowly and carefully hunted about the space, looking for more of the chal, and noted the state of their cleanliness.

Her sisters were, of course, mindful of the issue. The young snails had sparklingly clean shells, and their bodies appeared to be in wonderful condition, washed and sponged down at regular intervals. So why were the moustaches universally in need of cleaning?

“It’s because they appear to be very sensitive about their moustaches,” one of the Tenders on duty told her softly. “Any time we try to interfere with them, even extremely gently, they withdraw into their shells. It’s been troubling us.”

It didn’t make any sense. They were born with these fine facial hairs, but refused to let them be cleaned? Theresant was troubled. It seemed they would need to consult with an expert.

And so the human, Isaac, was summoned, along with his partner, Cavalant.

“I don’t know!” Isaac declared, wild-eyed. “Just because I have a moustache doesn’t mean I know how a snail wants to clean theirs!”

“Any insight you give us will be valuable,” Theresant insisted. “I refuse to believe it is optimal for the hatchlings to be moving about with filthy hairs on their faces.”

Isaac reached up and stroked his own, admittedly magnificent moustache. Oiled and waxed to perfection, it was his pride and joy. He had developed a full thirty-minute routine aimed at caring for the skin of his upper lip and ensuring the fullness and lustre of his facial hair was never less than optimal.

“Well, the upper lip of a human can be quite sensitive, particularly near the nose. I imagine the… skin? Do snails have skin?”

“Yes, they have a fleshy outer layer which would qualify as ‘skin’.”

“R-right. So perhaps the area above their mouths is just very sensitive, like mine.”

“Then how do we clean them?” Theresant muttered, exasperated.

“Well… if you can’t pull a comb or something like it, through the hair, then perhaps soaking the hair? Or cleaning it while it floats?”

“We will have to try something… thank you for your time.”

A bewildered Isaac was ushered back to his duty while a team of Brood Tenders gathered together, determined to brainstorm a solution to the dire problem they faced. For long hours, they toiled over a series of diagrams and thinking tools. Fishbone diagrams. Word clouds. Mind Maps.

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After all of their efforts, one among them finally struck onto a potential solution.

“Sisters!” she declared. “Perhaps we are looking at this problem from the wrong angle. This may not be a problem at all, but an opportunity.”

Positive thinking, this was the sort of thing the Brood Tenders thrived on.

“Elaborate,” Theresant said.