The Man With the Moustache

Miraculous indeed, you must have done some very good deed to be one with the heavens and an accomplice with the devil. Your fountains are flowing galore and you couldn’t be asking for more when he heard a strange knock on the door. He had just fished supper and wiping off his bearded face when he found a grain of corn in his bushy moustache he picked up from the lawn. His smoking pipe hanged from the side of his mouth and the casserole dish with scented fish reminds him of the flavor he once had in bed. He stared at it for a while to release the painful sacrifice as the memory seeped underneath his tobacco stained tongue and prompted him to chew his bristled gum. I watched him from my window with a state of the art binoculars as he paced back and forth from his kitchen table picking food from his front teeth. He walked towards the refrigerator and pulled out an ice cold can of beer and opened it. He spills some in the air and gives cheers to himself. I watched him slouched into the chair as if nothing was there, he pulled a stool beneath his feet and fell asleep. The lights went and the ambulance came with a shout. The paramedics’ cut the front of his shirt and spread him on the ground they try to resuscitate him but he left them quickly with a sudden grin. The resuscitation had done in him; they strapped his body to a stretcher and cover him with a white sheet and the next thing I know he was placed in jeep with the ambulance rolling before him, and the sound slowly fade in the deep. I woke up wondering if I was here or there. I pinched my body to see if I was alive and I found the binoculars at my side and the man’s window still half open on the other side and the neighbors gathered in front of his door. What on earth could have happened? Rumor had it that he was poisoned; the corn in his moustache was the living evidence to prove how the man was dead. Corn and rotten fish head baked in a casserole. Gossip swells around the town how the man’s wealth increased and how he was throwing money in the street; he won the lottery ten times and they robbed him seven times. They crowded his door and followed him wherever he goes; he wasn’t at ease and he could hardly get fresh breeze and so the diet of rotten fish head, salted pork and mayonnaise cream accompanied with hamburger casserole catapult him to the beautiful shore and the man with the moustaches was no more.