Just Some Guy With A Mustache Novels & Stories

“I might not be older than you, but I know what I’m saying!” I turn at the sound of his composed frustration — and almost gag. Such an awful sight: that tangled beard, that ridiculous mustache. “How dare you say you’re not older than us?” I snap. “I’m sorry, I’m very young—look!” He grabs at his face, and with a single tug, the mustache comes off. Our eyes widen. He’s actually very young. “See? I’m a soft child at heart,” he says with a sheepish grin.

It's not someone you know,' Celeste warned me. But even so, I had no other option. I held onto the doorknob, twisting it open, and I saw a man who had long, black hair. The way that he instantly smiled the moment he saw me made me shiver down my spine. His face was also covered with his thick mustache and beard, so it was quite difficult for me to examine his facial features. I wasn't even sure if that was real hair or if it was only artificial. "What do you want from me?" I asked the strange dude in front of me, but I received no answer.

The least I can do is wear some fancy drawls under my clothes for a day or two. Patty straightened and decided to be a good sport. “All right, I'll do it for you.” Jackie smiled at her victory. “Good. You’ll love them.” Patty shrugged. “Excuse me,” a man said. Patty and Jackie looked up at a black man in a three-piece suit. He wasn't wearing a tie. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and full lips. His afro was short and square shaped. He had a sexy smile.

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 masked guy started to make a noise in pain when Juliana again sprayed that pepper spray in his eyes. His strength on Juliana's hand weakend, Juliana quickly pulled her hand away and took that mask off from his face. Patting his eyes, he was groaning in pain. Juliana smirked and said, " Finally, caught you, Mr stalker". But time stopped for a moment when Juliana saw his face. He looked very handsome. Juliana took out her water bottle and while extending her hand holding bottle, she said, "Here, take it".

Jogging up the stairs, barely noticing the dirty staricase. "Where do you thi k you are going?" The voice of a man stops me, as I get to her door. Turning to faced the person, I am met with a man that looks to be in his mid-thirties. He stares me down, a cigarette between his lips as he gives me a look of pure disgust. "You deaf? I asked what the hell you are doing here." He repeats, grabbing his pants as it sags, falling down his waist. His skin is literred with sores, his lips chapped and dark, his hair, balding in different spots, his eyes, yellowish, his pot belly barely hidden by his tatterred shirt.

I feel at ease a little knowing I have Alex with me. "Alex," a chubby-cheeked man with a ginormous moustache called. Alex's face became rigid and stiff immediately and he muttered, "Mallam Tanko."

My tentative speculation and blissful hopes are interrupted by the sound of a man yelling. “How can they give such an order?!” The screaming man is young and handsome, quite like a fox. He’s probably in his twenties or early thirties. He’s tall and lean, with an elegant and remarkably muscular build. He has an unshaven beard on his chin as well as kind eyes. He holds his head high while another flustered fellow trips over himself to hold him back.

“Sleeping Beauty wakes.” I grunted and reached for the pot on the marble bar. “Don’t start.” “Oh, I’m starting,” she said, finally glancing up. “Mystery Maserati guy? Tall, built like a Greek god, tattoos, jawline that could cut glass? Yeah, we’re talking about him.” I poured my coffee. “He was just helping me.” Jess smirked. “Men who ‘just help’ don’t give you their personal card. Or look at you like that.”

I scoffed as she grabbed her bag and walked out. Slumping deeper into the couch, I couldn't help the thoughts swirling in my head—how, and what, I could do to have William. Just then, I felt a hand on my thigh. "Hey, beautiful." The thick voice made me turn to face a man. He had a moustache, small tattoos scattered across his face, bright red hair, and teeth that flashed at me like a warning sign. "How are—" I didn't let him finish before yanking his hand off my leg.