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This philosophical question was posed to me inconveniently as I stood inside of a party store this week.  I had need of being there: balloons must be procured, and soon.  But what kind of balloons?  That spawned a whole new discussion wherein the 15-year-old girl chomping chewing gum bubbles at my face tried to sweet talk me into choosing mylar instead of latex.  “All the cool kids do mylar you know.”  I did not know and desperately tossed twelve pearlized royal blue latex balloon bodies at her and fled to a side aisle that contained a display dedicated to moustaches.

Pro-tip to the world: don’t go on a rant about how disgusting actual 3D hair is to an adult male who then shuffles his feet, hides his scruffy face, and makes some low-toned mutter of “but I’m wearing a moustache right now….”  (Super Secret Liz Pro-tip to just the men: I am sorry but if your facial hair looks like continental drift then perhaps you should procure a shaver.)  [Extra Super Ultra Secret Pro-Tip to Just Liz: And the list on why we are still single adds a new member to its jam-packed loins.]

But I digress.  So there before me was a shiny amazing display all about moustaches and I immediately felt my world was not complete unless somehow I too had a moustache.  As luck would have it, temporary finger tattoos could be had for only $1.  ONE DOLLAR?!  I couldn’t afford NOT to have these things because it occurred to me that these “finger” tattoos were merely a suggestive suggestion as to where such a concoction could be placed.  These things could go ANYWHERE.  Like over a moustache with another moustache like a secret agent hiding out in the lush facial forest of Endor, and then suddenly there are Ewoks!  But it’s ok because the Imperials need to be destroyed.  And OMG there is a Death Star hovering like a scoop of ice cream floating in the sky on a cushion of air like Ms. Pac-Man as she chomps her way through a maze.  Or more importantly a balloon hovering in the sky with other balloons.  Except one of the balloons is a double agent and silently it snipes the other balloons until only one remains.

And upon its bulging belly will sport a moustache: the villain.

The End.