Bob Belcher Mustache Novels & Stories

He tore off the fake mustache on his face immediately. He called Howard and said, “That fake mustache must be a defective product. I’m having an allergic reaction to it!”

He said it with as much gravity as he could muster, since Xavier appreciated a certain formality. In return, Xavier nodded stiffly. It was hard to extend the amenities when Lippy was at the height of a performance. Dish Boggett was sitting at one of the tables with Lorena, hoping to persuade her to give him a poke on credit. Though Dish was barely twenty-two, he wore a walrus mustache that made him look years older than he was, and much more solemn. In color the mustache was stuck between yellow and brown—kind of prairie-dog-colored, Augustus thought. He

No one paid any attention to Conner. From his new vantage point, he had a better look at the preparations for the next bit to be filmed. He recognized the tall, athletic figure of Bart Braverman, a.k.a. Detective John Hustle, huddled together with a much shorter, gray-haired man. Braverman was a good-looking guy in his late twenties, with long, neatly shaggy golden hair that hung over the collar of his dark brown blazer, which he wore over a light T-shirt, sort of retro Miami Vice look. No one on either side of the law would ever mistake Braverman for a cop, and Conner was reminded of Alexa Cline’s comment about his own appearance. He smiled to himself—maybe he should go into acting.

Melissa must remind him of the past. "I'm a wee short on supplies, but I'm no monster." He stepped aside, inviting them in. This man seemed to be in his early 30s. He had a short, stubble beard that was well-kept and large muscles were visible through his white t-shirt. His face was slightly wrinkled yet he still managed to look young. He was tall, yet relaxed as he gazed at them with curiosity.

Is this the man Bianca was talking about earlier? He was wearing a black t-shirt that fit his body well, allowing anyone to see his athletic body that was not overdone. His hair was short, with messy bangs covering his forehead. From a distance, I could catch his eyes, which were lined with thick dark lashes. His jaw looked solid with a slight shadow from his newly grown sideburns. His lips were thin and slightly curved upwards, like a restrained smile. His skin was tanned like it had been in the sun a lot, but it still looked smooth and well-groomed.

Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that his last name is Gray. What she found most attractive was his shiny light brown hair, he was carrying a classic Taper haircut which complimented the mustache and beard; he had brushed the quiff upwards to give him the celebrity look. His lips were attractively pink, and given the amount of melanin he had for a white guy. He wasn’t the usual pale white male, he was a bit dim but not of color either; he was just somewhere in between.

We were all impressed and he took charge of the group right away. Bart was tall with a muscular build. He had a ruggedly handsome face. He had dark brown hair cut in a high and tight military style. He had a full, but neatly trimmed goatee and moustache, and also a couple days growth on the rest of his beard. He had a gruff demeanor and his voice was deep and gravelly. He had on a black short sleeved button-down shirt over a white v-neck t-shirt, tight blue jeans and black boots. The v-neck of his t-shirt exposed a chest covered in thick dark brown hair. I quickly looked away when he caught me checking him out.

said another man. Bella turned her head to look at the other men in the room. Two men were sitting on the couch. One of them had dark hair, fair skin, and a sharp nose like a kindergartener's slide. He looked very stiff and cold, while the other man had brown hair and a warmer look. The three men there were very handsome; Bella admitted that. Especially with their posture, which is more beautiful than the model's. Ah, she forgot; the youngest is an actor. But which one?

As in, he is a millennial with a capital M. I thought they were going extinct soon. He looked... twenty-eight? Twenty-nine? Somewhere around there. Old enough to have back pain. Old enough to complain about my generation. Old enough to call TikTok "that app." His black hair was tied into a low bun, making the sharp angles of his face impossible to ignore. Thick brows. A straight nose. A jawline so sharp it could probably cut glass. A neatly trimmed beard framed his face, making him look less like a businessman and more like the final boss in a video game.