Comedy · Short Stories

The Mustached Tyrant (Part Three)

Pasty clocks in at work and begins stocking the shelves of canned goods. He hears fellow employees talking about that Mr. Mustache will be there today. He also hears them use curse words to call Mustache , such as “fucker”, “assface”, and “mighty dickhead.” As he’s finishing up the box of canned green beans, Freckles walks through the aisle towards him.

“Pasty…” she said in a seducing tone.

“Girl, are you trying to seduce me while I’m on the clock?”

She laughs at him and nudges his shoulder.

“Maybe–I got an interview,” she said.


“At the bank near the bridge. Have you heard anything yet?”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Well, maybe, I’ll land this gig with the bank, then you’ll hear something back and, maybe, we’ll get outta of here. And our new jobs won’t conflict with our schedules.”

“Hopefully…” he said.

Freckles kisses him on the cheek and Pasty’s face burns brighter than the lit end of a cigarette.

“We’ve been together for over five months and you still get red in the face. I love it. I gotta go clock in, so have fun with your beans.”

Mr. Mustache pulls into the rainy parking lot with a smile on his face. He drives a huge black van with tinted windows and rims that are black. He grips the steering wheel and laughs hysterically. 

“Today, oh, today, I will make someone’s life miserable,” he said. “I get so turned on by the thought of pushing someone to the edge.”

He looks to the parking space beside him and there’s a woman in her car staring at him, scared. His menacing look goes away and his eyes grow big as his creepiness has been seen. The woman mumbles and Mustache reads her lips.

“What in the fuck is wrong with you?”

Mustache exits his vehicle and walks timidly towards the entrance to Shop-A-Lot-Mart. He walks a few feet and turns to see if he’s out of the woman’s sight. He is clear from her view and his evil demeanor returns. He walks through the sliding glass doors, with rain drops covering his glimmering, bald head with a grin as he sees the whole store in front of him. At the same moment, everyone that works at that store, feels that something has changed. The cashiers are the first workers to spot Mustache, because they are closest to the entrance. Linda, an older black woman, looks at him, while he enjoys the hate in his workers’ eyes. 

“Look at this fucker,” she said. “Thinking he’s all big and bad. Shit…I’ll bust him up the side of his head.”

The customer that she’s checking out, looks at her and laughs. The customer turns and looks at Mustache.

“Wow…he’s ugly,” the customer said.

“Shit, you’re preaching to the whole crowd, honey,” she said.

Freckles is a cashier herself and she waits for the moment when Mustache is going to look her way. She’s not afraid to look into that man’s eyes. Mustache looks in the direction of where Freckles is at. The deep blue eyes of Freckles matches up with the dead gray eyes of Mustache. For a minute, all of the cashiers watched the Wild West showdown between some of the sharpest eyes in the city. One set of eyes is beautiful, while the other set is soulless.

“Damn, look at that stare down,” said Linda. “A tumbleweed might roll across the floor here in a minute.”

Mustache blinks and frowns as he loses the match. Freckles smiles and goes back to focus on her customer. Mustache looks towards the grocery section, as he knows that Pasty will be there. 

“She thinks that she’s something,” said Mustache. “Let’s see how she likes if I mess with her boyfriend and push them to their breaking point.”

Mustache makes his way to the grocery department and looks through the various aisles until he finds Pasty. He sees Pasty in the canned goods aisle and heads towards him. Meanwhile, Freckles sees Mustache go down the aisle and her happy side fades away as now she’s concerned.

“Hello there, Derek,” said Mustache.

“….Satan?” said Pasty.

Mustache glares at Pasty, while Pasty smiles. Today is going to be a war. 


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