by Richard
Okay, first. Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m not talking about that bush, I’m talking about the horrible growth that had come to dominate my face as part of my Halloween costume. By the end, it was getting to be far too much trouble.
I would try to eat, for instance, a cheeseburger. When I opened my mouth to fit the burger in, the mustache hairs were so long they would get caught between my upper lip and the food. So, when I bit down, I got a mouthful of mustache hairs and a lot of pain as the hairs were pulled out.
Not cool, dude.
So, yeah, I was ready for it to go. As soon as I got back from walking Speed Racer around on that rainy night, I went straight to the bathroom and got out the trimmer. I tried to cut it short since I don’t like the bare-faced look. I look like a liar. Or a 12-year-old boy who’s been playing with matches and burned off all his hair.
When it got a look at it, I realized it just wasn’t going to work and whacked that bush off clean. Still, I thought it was a pretty good likeness. I signed four autographs and had three pictures taken.
Separated at birth, no.
Even better, my wife (known to me as She Who Likes. . . no, never mind. This is a family website), who had cut off marital relations as the mustache grew, realized the error of her ways as soon as I shaved.
Good times. Good times.
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