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The ironic moustache began confessing his troubles to the introspective soul patch, regardless of whether he wanted to hear them or not.
"I currently have no credibility, even in the bars of Williamsburgh and Silverlake. I'm either a gay accessory or a suburban dad's outmoded best friend."
"Or a military man's badge of honor," interjected the patch. The patch had heard these laments before.
"Not that you're any better," exclaimed the moustache.
"Bluesmen, beat poets, Dizzy Gillespie..."
"And Sammy Hagar. He's cool, right?" The moustache knew how to provoke his neighbor. "Look at my diversity: the handlebar, the fu-manchu, the porn star, the tycoon, the leading man. I am without peer. You pose no threat to me."
The patch was preparing an aggressive reply when the man to whom both manifestations of facial hair belonged grew tired of the itching he experienced from all of this agitation, grabbed a Braun Flex XP, and shaved them both off.
The crime scene was sanctified with a dose of Lectric Shave.
Date Written: January 26, 2005
Average Vote: 3.1429