She had a beautiful set of mustaches. Many considered her facial décor off-putting, but she had such gorgeous features and long, auburn hair. When she was a teen, she used peroxide to hide the black hairs that had just begun to peek out of her upper lip. One day, in her haste to catch the school bus, she used too much peroxide and burned her lip. She vowed that she would never do it again, and in spite of what her parents and teachers said, she groomed her beautiful mustaches, combed them and waxed them. The boys were envious.
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The mustache was very unhappy. Hosted on the grisly face of a man that submerged it in a mug of warm beer on so many occasions, and suffering the indignity of ignored, crusty secretions that were so common during the cold, winter months. Worse, the hours following a bout of vigorous lovemaking with his obese girlfriend. The mustache vowed to do something to escape captivity. Each morning, when the mustached man awoke, he discovered his mustache growing, and growing thicker and darker on a different part of his face. Sometimes, under his lip, sometimes in the middle of his forehead.
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