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Moustache Men

I started a fire last night in someone else's house. I wanted toast. It started off as smoking, but upon closer inspection, one side of bread was too close to the coils and a small flame developed, which quickly extinguished, but there was more smoke. It wouldn't have been so bad if we weren't forced to open the forbidden door to air the place out. We were warned by my friend who knew of the owners and of the door. He said it should not be opened since it set off an alarm in the Landlord's apartment, and signaled some kind of travesty. I would have endured the smoke, but sometimes doors, especially forbidden ones, need to be opened.

Narf (my friend) waved open and close the door to draw the smoke out. He had a look on his face which was mixed with excitement, anticipation and terror. The forbidden door opened onto a wooden deck. It was night out so I couldn't see much except for some trees. The landlord's house, since it was a duplex, was right next door, but I couldn't hear any alarm, except for the one I created in my mind which was like REE REE REE REE REE. As Narf swung open and close the door, I checked behind my shoulders for knife wielding psychopaths. None found.

The smoke cleared eventually, but it smelt like burnt toast, and all of us thought we were going to have strokes. The landlord and his wife came down. He had a thick Russian accent, and his english was poor, and he had a moustache. He knew Narf, and regarded him with unease, since Narf housed the spirit of an irresponsible 12 year old. I think he took a liking to me, however, and I imagine it had to do with my moustache. We were moustache brothers. And these days, outside the borders of India, and even Russia, moustache men are hard to find. It must be because of their tendency to smell like soup. This may prove to be a disadvantage to your significant other, but when all smells are filtered through your giant moustache, a balance is achieved. Sure, flowers smell like soup, but so also do butt cracks. Not that I go around sniffing butt cracks.

After having acknowledged our reciprocal facial hair, the landlord and his wife left, leaving me wallowing in shame for my unhealthy addiction to toast. Narf shared my feelings, because he is sympathetic, but he shared it through the detachment of the error not being his own, which is the best time to share, I think.

Burnings aside, after October comes November, or Movember: official moustache month. Let's join in fraternity and look like Flandererers, Stalin, and Tom Selleck. If you are a woman, go ahead and let your armpits run wild. It's European. You could pretend to be in Paris!

8 comments:

sybil law said...

I was going to copy and paste my favorite lines from this post, but there's just too many.
You are awesome.
But I'm not going to stop shaving my armpits.

Choirchick22 said...

Gotta agree with @sybil law. This is amazing. I totally am going to let my mustache grow, but only for the sake of my costume.

John Dantzer said...

sybil - Thanks! I am glad you are out there. But you should consider going au naturel, it would be like having two extra vaginas.

Choirchick- Halloween: Once a year. Movember: 30 days of glory. Think about it.

Choirchick22 said...

@Jorg. hmm. You do have a point there!

sybil law said...

Hmmm... that would still be difficult - I mean, not to be all TMI, but, you know... there's this thing called waxing...

John Dantzer said...

Oh right, forgot.

dogimo said...

I have a full on beard lately, but you know what? I don't think a beard remotely counts. A beard could be sheer laziness, or some statement of merely religious conformity. A mustache on the other hand is the shape and form of a decision you have made, for all to see.

Mine smells like butter a lot. I eat more corn on the cob than soup.

John Dantzer said...

A beard could be seen as pure laziness or religious conformity, unless it was styled into the shape of an animal. Please tell me your beard is shaped like a giraffe.

Butter beard?! LOL!