To His Royal Stache-ness,
I have mounted an army in your name and in the name of the great mustache Gods (Ron Jeremy, Frank Zappa, Salvador Dali, Burt Reynolds, Tom Selleck, any State Trooper), shall they forever reign. Albeit but short and composed of few whiskers now, it is the start of a great army my leige. This upper lip shall be our training ground. We shall announce our station in life; to woo women and carefully catch and freeze winter snot; with a loud and boisterous "Am I Manly Now?"
His Royal Stache-ness' Whisker in Charge,
The First Hair
Progress seems slow and labored. The landscape though is changing and changing not so drastically, one nano-meter per day. Soon there will be a forest of whiskers at attention ready to serve His Royal Stache-ness with their ability to scare weak women and attract the strong ones. It is the way of Darwin. Manly Mustaches mean Manly Phalluses. For now I bid you adieu. And happy stache growing.
His Royal Stache-ness' Whisker in Charge,
The First Hair
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