I wrote and doodled this in the course of one English Literature lecture. I think it is time well spent. Original hand drawn art work will be auctioned off tomorrow morning out of a bucket.
There once was a man named Jasper. He was old and had the most remarkable moustache. It stuck out the side of his face for up to four feet! Here is a picture.
He’d often use it to fend off would be predators, like the common urban hawk. Here is a picture.
The moustache was occasionally a hindrance. For example, he had once had a wife. One day she had decided for some reason to slide down the banister, here is a picture.
Unfortunately she was brutally impaled on Jasper’s moustache and she died in terrible agony. To show a picture of this traumatic event would simply be insensitive…
Here is a picture.
With his wife’s blood on his moustache, both literally and metaphorically… though not really metaphorically, Jasper fell into deep despair. He took to drink, class A drugs and regularly frequented prostitutes.
Here is a picture.
Following a night of particularly erotic excess Jasper found himself set upon by an adversary far worse than the common urban hawk. No not your garden variety jaguar, nor your savage city mole. He was attacked by the most fearsome of enemies: A vicious gang of poverty stricken, politically disenfranchised youths. Jasper had read about them in the Daily Mail and knew there was no reasoning with such brutes. His only choice was to beat them to the point of near death. Here is a picture.
He found the violence quite invigorating. So in order to forget about his dead wife who was still lying somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, he decided to become a masked vigilante. He would clean the streets of crime, he’d spit in the face of corruption, he’d give a stern warning to litterers and also keep an eye on anyone who loitered for suspicious lengths of time outside the post office.
From that day forward… he would become.
JASPER — no
The Man (or woman) With An Excessively Large Moustache!