NaMoGroMo

I look, if I may say so, boss. Like a TV cop from the seventies.

Seriously, this thing provides its own swagger. Can a face even swagger?

How could a face swagger?

How could my face swagger?

No idea, but let’s face it, face, you fucking swagger.

It’s the perfect accompaniment to a face that already brings so much to the table, adding maturity and masculinity to my already considerable supply of charm.

And I love it.

I know I say this every year, but this time I mean it. When Movember comes to an end, I’m keeping the ‘Stache.

Moustache

From a prompt from the excellent 100 Word Stories podcast, found here:

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2011/10/09/weekly-challenge-285-mustache/


Moustache
By Christopher Munroe

Five days into growing a moustache I looked like a pedophile. I’ll own that.

The percentage of people who actually suit one, after all, is frighteningly small. Still, I commit to what I do, so the ‘stache was staying.

Until you got me drunk, waited for me to pass out and shaved it.

The next day, I faced my still-moustachioed friends, clean-shaven.

Humiliated.

You thought I’d forgive this betrayal.

I’ll never forgive. Nor will I forget.

I’ll always remember, the fifth of Movember. The moustaches, treason and plot. I see no good reason moustaches and treason should ever be forgot.