Chumsly “Buckets” Worthington
b. December 26, 1800 – Placentia, Newfoundland
d. August 14, 1887 – Banff, British Columbia
Every day in our world, a species sits on the brink of extinction. Rarely, if ever, can they be saved once they reach that fateful precipice. Only once in history have the actions of a sole man prevented an entire species from being eradicated, let alone the species he himself single-handedly hunted to such a point. Such is the case of Chumsly “Buckets” Worthington, a fascinating story of bearded greatness.
Chumsly Dale Worthington was born to upper middle-class parents in the fishing village of Placentia, Newfoundland, Canada. His father, Beamish Worthington, profited as a prominent local fisherman, and master of the long-line. His hauls supported the family and afforded them a rather luxurious life, albeit a life without him for prolonged periods of time.
Chumsly’s mother, Grace, worked as a local beautician of sorts. She specialized in hand made beauty products and candles, crafted from fish and mammal by-products she acquired from Beamish. She then sold the oils, soaps, gels and powders at exorbitant costs to the oft pasty Newfoundland women. She herself possessed a great beauty, a beauty left unloved while Beamish sought his aquatic prize. Known as the “Placentia Piece,” Grace sought the love of every fisherman, trader, merchant and boot-shine on the island. While Beamish remained oblivious to his wife’s loose hips, Chumsly noted every instance, and boiled with an internal fire of “my mom is a filthy whore” anger.
Chumsly possessed characteristics of both parents that defined him as a man. He was without question a handsome yet vain man, a trait his mother undoubtedly bestowed him. He loved his good looks, as well as fishing and hunting, two exercises at which he excelled thanks to a innate, paternal skill. Yet Chumsly’s father gifted him two traits; a thick, full beard being the second. His true love centered around this treasured, sculpted beard, his life dedicated to its glory. To achieve the best look and style, Chumsly sought the best pomp gel, spending hours testing and trying putties and the like. He was truly devoted to his follicle pursuits, a devotion that shaped his future.
Worthington garnered attention and significant wages for his prowess as a gamesman during the days, however he soon made his fortune and fame at night in underground beard competitions. Before his second competition in the nascent sport, Chumsly sat at a bar in Cape Cod, drinking rye whiskey and pondering his look d’jour. When in walked a black man with a fascinating beard in the shape of a crocodile, almost lifelike in its curves and shape. Awe-struck, Chumsly immediately approached the man and inquired about his story and style techniques.
The man told of a life as a sailor from small, landlocked African country, all while exhibiting a noticeable tick when speaking. He admitted quite frankly that he achieved that level of sculptability from whale blubber, to which Chumsly snapped, “Oh I’ve tried that.” However the man clarified it is specifically that of the narwhal, a horned beast of the arctic deep. Chumsly noted the secret, bought the man a drink, offered a smoke outside, and subsequently beat the sailor to death in a laughing, victorious rage.
Chumsly immediately commenced his pursuit of the elusive narwhal, a creature dispersed around the arctic that feeds on small crustaceans and fish. Being familiar with whale hunting and cold water techniques in general, he quickly mastered his own brutal and efficient technique for hunting them that involved floating barrels, skate meat and pressure-sensing harpoon launchers. Once employed, Chumsly’s technique allowed him complete domination over the species, so much so that he constantly had an excess of the whale’s oozing profitable fat, ready for conversion into the beard pomp gel.
Chumsly started processing the narwhal blubber and selling it as “Ol’ Bucket Face Putty,” a product meant for maximum facial hair styling. He applied the Ol’ Bucket Face Putty when competing with his beard, a now wondrous effort that dominated every show and contest he entered. “Buckets,” as he came to be known, garnered worldwide notoriety as his beard’s fame grew.
The nascent best beard contests he first entered grew around his prowess as champ, shaping into massive competitions. Worthington became the John L Sullivan of his craft, insofar as the sport grew because of him to enormous proportions, but corrupted and ruined him in the end. Every lumberjack, long-liner, fireman and stevedore with a wisp of facial hair worth a damn wanted to be “Buckets.” Thus, Ol’ Bucket Face Putty flew off the store shelves, and demand grew to where it eventually became unsupportable.
Chumsly hunted the narwhal to brink of extinction in an attempt to satiate the world’s lust for his face putty, leaving merely three of the whales remaining, a male and two females, as he set off for his final hunt. On his final voyage to bag the lone survivors, a miraculous thing happened to the narwhal. The man who ravaged the species with the proficiency and brutality of a German porn, was about to succumb to the perils of his excess. Unbeknownst to Chumsly, the blubber of the narwhal has long-term psychoactive effects on the human brain. After years of exposure, dementia and severe mood swings ravage the user, or in this case, abuser.
As Chumsly cornered the horned beasts, fear filled their beady little eyes and squirts of feces tinged the water as they shat themselves just knowing the end drew near. However, as Worthington prepped his trap, something sparked in his now chemically altered brain. He more or less went nuts, his mind re-wired by years of narwhal blubber exposure. He saw the fear in the narwhalian eyes, the beauty of their ivory horns, and decided he must save them, not hurt them. Anger at himself bubbled within, a rage worse than the “my mom is a filthy whore” anger that fueled his vanity and murderous excess. He realized he must repopulate the species, and save them from the fate his hand hath wrought.
Unfortunately, one small issue stood in the way of Chumsly’s path to redemption and the narwhal’s chance at survival… the male narwhal was gay. Chumsly dolled up the two females as best he could, used his best narwhal call, and even released rhino horn and other pheromones into the sea. Nothing worked. The male narwhal rebuffed the females every advance, every shake of their slutty narwhal behinds.
Chumsly realized what he must do. He draped himself in male narwhal hide, donned a horn, and dove into the frothy waters. He skillfully masturbated the male, who thought he had just received the sea’s greatest fin-job from a closeted narwhal named Chad. Buckets then inseminated the the females, propagating the species for another generation. He continued this act for the next 40 years, generation after inbred generation, long past the point of necessity.
Chumsly’s devotion to the narwhal extended beyond his cross-mammalian sexual deviance, and into vengeful retribution. He hunted narwhal poachers, despite his past shared life, and killed them with a narwhal horn dagger. He left their severed heads on ice, as such was common practice of poachers after their slaughters. He also started a foundation to continue narwhal preservation after his passing, as well as a narwhal themed park in Newfoundland named “Narwhally’s World.”
Worthington’s dedication to the narwhal ceased only upon his death, at age 86, while tracking a known poacher in Banff, British Columbia, Canada. The unscrupulous poacher and long-time beard contest rival, Sylvan Guarniere, caught wind of Chumsly’s pursuit and lured him into a trap using a narwhal distress call. Once the poacher and his vile friends apprehended Chumsly, they bound him, forced him to watch as they curled with narwhal fetuses, and subsequently beat him to death with the clubs often used on narwhals, seals and other soft loveable sea creatures. Authorities found Chumsly Worthington’s body with his beard removed and a narwhal horn protruding from the rectum, with the location of the former never determined.