No-Mo

Hoooold uuuuup!!

The elevator doors juddered to a stop as a hand jammed itself between them before they closed.

Reluctantly, like the pallid buttocks on a fasting monk's arse they parted open.

Thought I was a goner there!

Yelped the man in the suit who had so rudely interrupted my ascent to greatness.

I stared at him as he entered the lift with me and mashed the button for his floor.

It might have been the fact that I had had only one coffee so far this morning but something felt decidedly odd. This guy... I couldn't put my finger on it but something was definitely off with him.

I spread my feet wide in a ready stance just in case the dude turned feral and I had to kill him and wear his skin to pass as one of his people when making my escape.

The guy turned to me and grinned.

It's fucking cold outside, isn't it?

He slapped his hands together and stamped his feet as if we were shit actors in an even shitter theatre production.

I opened my mouth to reply and then I noticed it.

There was something terribly wrong with this man's face. Just below the nose there was an awful black smear about an inch thick.

I shuddered as if the Good Lady had offered to make Paneer again.

Eh, there's... Erm, you know?

I said as politely as I could gesticulating at his upper lip.

What? What is it?

Smeardo felt at his face in puzzlement.

I pointed a little more precisely to the thing inhabiting his top lip.

Something on your lip. Looks like you have been drinking shit?

I said, my face curling up in disapproval at the idea of Smeardo and all his friends having a 6 guys 1 cup party.

Ha! My moustache!! Is that what you mean!! My moustache, awesome isn't it? Movember, don't you know?

He gushed excitedly at me whilst stroking the aberration on his top lip.

Movember.

I said flatly.

Yeah, man. You know!? Movember, growing a moustache for...

I cut off his whiny rambling with a decisive chop off my hand.

I know what fucking Movember is but it's 2019, why are you still fucking doing it?

I demanded.

The lift doors opened and we both got out. Smeardo turned and faced me disbelievingly as if I had tried to sell him a jar of home-made jam.

It's for charity, it's really cool. Over the month of November, you...

He began.

Pfft. As I said, it's 2019. Behave yourself.

I stomped off to find myself another coffee.

Just cos you can't grow one!

Smeardo yelled at my retreating back.

Hmmph. Don't see what that's got to do with it...