Bob Belcher Mustache Novels & Stories

From his round face to the silver handlebar mustache on his face. The other man that has a ferious scowl but has yet to speak, looks Just like the duke. Tall thin with black hair and a funny franz Josef style mustache. I expected him to be pail and scary but what i see is Tan and inviting. funny how messed up humans actually got this stuff.

I mumble. “Miss Natasha Bennett,” someone calls my name before I sit on the couch. I get my ass up in the middle of the air and follow her inside. In front of the entry door, a bald man is sitting on a rolling chair, facing the wall, like a villain in a movie. He turns towards me in a dramatic manner, which almost makes me burst into laughter, but I manage to control myself. His entire face is covered in a thick beard and mustache, hiding his lips.

I looked at him wearing my bitch face, He looked like a womanizer. "Wants some drink?" he asked, he also sat next to me. I rolled my eyes at him. "Not interested." I said, he laughed because of what I said. I was so bored. he's smiling at me, he has thick eyebrows, long eyelashes, a pointed nose, and his eyes is not blue and it's not normal gray either, it's Sterling Gray.pinkish lips his face is perfect, I'm jealous. He chuckled, oh god! Why did you make such a handsome creature!? I looked at him head to toe. He's wearing a pants and a plain black t-shirt. He looked so simple but at the same time expensive. But he really has a womanizer look.

I asked, making her confused for a moment, before pulling out an empty paper and a pen. "Give me a clear detail of this man." I loved art and I could create things on paper. It was a talent I had enhanced since childhood. "A six foot five guy, has a weird mustache and a goatee for a beard, he is dark, usually on a buzz cut, and is heavily built." While trying to make sense of the description, an image flashed through my brain. That was it! Quickly and made a drawing of the picture I had seen on that fateful day of the man, while Elena watched in curiosity.

The smile is quickly wiped off of my face when I hear his next words. "Now that I have your attention, who would like to work for their spot" he ask grinning widely. I can't even hide my grimace at the look on his face. His eyes are small brown and beady. His nose is so large that it nearly takes up half his face at many angles. His lips look thin and cracked as he smiles cascading the yellowness of the few teeth that he still owns. Add that with all the gel in his thinning hair and he calls himself a winner. He believes that because his suit and shoes are expensive that any of us would be lucky to partake in time with him.

Was it really her? Gosh, she was so beautiful. Perhaps even more beautiful than some Hollywood stars! The fat man cheered happily at the result. He was one of the most famous makeup artists in Los Angeles. He has made up hundreds, or even thousands, of people. However, when he saw this result, he was still very surprised. Beverley was absolutely gorgeous! “Wow! You look so pretty, honey.” “Don’t call me honey!” hissed Beverley in annoyance. “Alright. Come on, take off your bathrobe. You must wear this wedding dress.”

Bob told her as she neatened the comforter from its creases. She frowned and glanced over at him; he looked a lot like his father. His hair was silvery and sleek; it reached around his shoulders, and he had it neatly tucked around his ear. It showed off his narrow features; he had a scruffy face, which was unlike Marlon who kept his face neatly shaved. It gave Bob a masculine look. His eyes were pools of blue with dark lashes. She could tell that the ladies around town probably fell head over heels for him whenever he walked by. But Kamala wasn’t one to be flattered by good looks.

he asked and I nodded this time, I moved my gaze to him, and it was then I noticed he looked pale and his face was covered with beard, alpha Bellini was not the type that loves hairs, he likes to keep his face clean from hair, he was always neatly shaved but his appearance scared me, just maybe he is going through something. “is everything alright with you?” I asked him and he smirked, something he hardly did, although it was easy to laugh in front of me, I was used to his chuckling and the sound it made if it was genuine but the sound, I heard now was nothing close to genuine, it was clouded with concealed pain.

The next day... Bob stood in front of a club in a rumpled business suit. He'd removed a few buttons of his shirt, and loosened his slanted print checkered tie, making him seem like an alcoholic employee in search for where to get their heads off after a long day at work. He wore an unkempt brown wig that covered the upper part of his face and placed rough brown fake beards around his chin and mouth to match. As he approached the club, Bob laid eyes on several men and women with their gazes focused on either their drinks or searching through the crowd that streamed into the club as they leaned on the walls, hanging around.

I whispered through my teeth, squeezing his hand in my fist. "Chill babe, I've got this" he shushed me. We approached the counter, my eyes glared at the mid-aged bald man, accessing him. He was fair in complexion, approximately six feet tall with big belly protruding on the counter. He wore a grey moustache, matching his grey scanty hair at both sides of his head. He quickly picked up his black baseball cap on the counter and fixed it on his head, flaunting the little hair he had, out of the cap.