[…]


Peter Davis

The Seven Deadly Mustaches


I. Mustache Pride—This is the worst of the mustaches.
From this mustache spring all the other mortal
mustaches. In this scenario, you imagine yourself
better than mustache, more important to the reality of
the situation (any and every situation) than mustache.
You might find yourself wondering how you go
unrecognized by the surrounding society, you may tell
your woman mustache that she’s stupid, you may not
listen to mustaches younger than you or mustaches
older than you, you may forget and believe forgetting
is okay. There are a variety of ways, a panoply, a
potpourri, a plethora, nice spread, much mustache,
blessed abundance, etcetera, lots of slots to slip
through to find yourself in this vending machine. One
must ask one’s mustache: what am I buying?

II. Mustache Envy—This mustache is more common than I
imagine. I am often confused by this one and believe
I’m mustaching pride or wrath or greed or lust or
sloth. Perhaps the density of this particular mustache
is overstated, but in regards to density I mean
thick-skulled and stupid, quite incapable of reasoning
into a taxi and taking it home… I mean, this envy
mustache is always masked.

III. Mustache Lust—Here’s where the mustache rub
becomes exceedingly difficult to comprehend. First off
there’s the biological necessity, the evolutionary
lifeboat, etcetera, this whole slippery sliding thigh
of mustache. So there’s a human mustache at work in
lust that perhaps is less likely in the mustache
kingdom, you know—there’s something phony here, and
yet there is wisdom as well, as well as mustache. We
are all aware of the mustache difficulty of mustache
and when I say “we are all,” I mean those of us who
mustache some and shave when necessary.

IV. Mustache Gluttony—Again, this is practical. One
needn’t abuse one’s knee joints, back, heart, kidneys,
mustache, etcetera. I suppose there’s a spiritual
component here regarding mustache consumption and what
that involves, physically, socially, metaphysically,
mustachely.

V. Mustache Wrath—The mustache is always tricky and
yet the mustache does have answers that make sense
from time to time. For instance, the mustache wrath is
just a blocked desire exposed from behind the pulpit
to be naked and embarrassing, not fit to look at most
likely. It’s a breeder. You know, loose and the like.
Always out Saturday nights a’whoring and getting
knocked up and spitting out, like, fourteen kids a
week. You don’t want her to be your ex-wife. You’ll
never get out from under that alimony. She’ll be
giving birth to your children for the rest of this
life and into a good portion of the mustache one.

VI. Mustache Sloth—It would be too easy to only say:
mustache. Too easy to imagine that the word “Too” is
an ideogram for the profile of a bed. And who knows,
like the others, pride mustache rules around here and
cooks bacon Saturday morning but spends the rest of
the day growing a mustache, surveying the damage of a
crumpled magazine, unfolding origami, collecting
mustache smells with a small net made of woven
mustaches, gerrymandering juxtapositions for light
fixtures, creaming various vegetables with a shadow
moose, shading in the eyes around the eyeball,
tumbling through gear for gear collecting, inventing
roller skates and remembering roller skates already
exist, inventing Christianity and remembering
Christianity already exists, sucking wind and
remembering that wind is real and can be sucked,
sucking real and remembering real can be wind, winding
suck and remembering real could/can be mustache.

VII. Mustache Greed—I have a sentence in which I can
elongate the word mustache, stretching it like taffy,
from one corner of the milky way and into some great
black hole or white dwarf, and of course, still I
mustache mustache…

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