
Let me explain.
A couple months back it sounded like a fun idea. I got cast in a small role as a cop in a local play. I suggested to the director that I grow a moustache. She loved it. I loved it. We all thought the world of the idea.
Now I look like "The Uncle That Hugs A Little Too Long."
It gets worse.
This morning I visited the doc for allergy issues, and thinking efficiently I decided it was about time to finally get my Massachusetts license (I've only been carrying my old Texas license illegally for about 18 months).
It wasn't until the clerk said, "Okay, sir, just stand against the blue backdrop, and I'll take your picture."
A cold terror seized me starting with my neck hair and eating it's way deep like active acid into the very pit of my dry, petrified heart. My hand crept to my upper lip and I think I might have uttered a semi-audible, airy shriek.
So now this horrible countenance stains my government issued ID, even though the moustache, like a guest that once was welcome but now only causes discomfort and loathing, will finally return Saturday night to the bowels of hell from whence it came.