Replace the mustache with a unicorn horn

The Moustache
by Robert Cormier

At the last minute Annie couldn't go. She was invaded by one of those twenty-four-hour flu bugs
that sent her to bed with a fever, moaning about the fact that she'd also have to break her date
with Handsome Harry Arnold that night. We call him Handsome Harry because he's actually
handsome, but he's also a nice guy, cool, and he doesn't treat me like Annie's kid brother, which I
am, but like a regular person. Anyway, I had to go to Lawnrest alone that afternoon. But first of
all I had to stand inspection. My mother lined me up against the wall. She stood there like a one-
man firing squad, which is kind of funny because she's not like a man at all, she's very feminine,
and we have this great relationship -- I mean, I feel as if she really likes me. I realize that sounds
strange, but I know guys whose mothers love them and cook special stuff for them and worry
about them and all but there's something missing in their relationship.
Anyway. She frowned and started the routine.
"That hair," she said. Then admitted: "Well, at least you combed it."
I sighed. I have discovered that it's better to sigh than argue.
"And that moustache." She shook her head. "I still say a seventeen-year-old has no business
wearing a moustache."
"It's an experiment," I said. "I just wanted to see if I could grow one." To tell the truth, I had
proved my point about being able to grow a decent moustache, but I also had learned to like it.
"It's costing you money, Mike," she said.
"I know, I know."
The money was a reference to the movies. The Downtown Cinema has a special Friday night
offer -- half price admission for high school couples, seventeen or younger. But the woman in the
box office took one look at my moustache and charged me full price. Even when I showed her
my driver's license. She charged full admission for Cindy's ticket, too, which left me practically
broke and unable to take Cindy out for a hamburger with the crowd afterward. That didn’t help
matters, because Cindy has been getting impatient recently about things like the fact that I don't
own my own car and have to concentrate on my studies if I want to win that college scholarship,
for instance. Cindy wasn't exactly crazy about the moustache, either.
At the last minute, Annie fell ill with a nasty twenty-four-hour flu, leaving me to tackle Lawnrest alone. Annie's date with Handsome Harry Arnold had to be canceled, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for swooping in on their plans. Nevertheless, I had to soldier on and face the afternoon's adventure.

Before heading out, I had to endure the usual inspection from my mother. She lined me up against the wall, playing the role of a one-woman firing squad. It was amusing in a way since she embodied femininity, yet we shared a wonderful bond. I felt like she genuinely liked me, which might sound strange, but I've seen other guys with mothers who shower them with love and special treats, yet something vital seems to be missing.

As the inspection began, my mother's frown deepened. "That hair," she remarked, unable to hide her disapproval. "Well, at least you combed it," she reluctantly admitted.

Letting out a sigh, I knew better than to argue. It was an art I had mastered over time.

"And that unicorn horn," she shook her head disapprovingly. "I still maintain that a seventeen-year-old has no business sporting such fantastical accessories."

"It's a statement of my unique style," I defended myself. "I just wanted to see if I could pull it off." Truth be told, I had already proven my point about embracing the whimsical and magical, and I had grown fond of my majestic unicorn horn.

"It's costing you money, Mike," she reminded me, concern evident in her voice.

"I know, I know," I replied, acknowledging the financial consequences. It all tied back to our plans for the movies. The Downtown Cinema had a special Friday night offer, granting half-price admission for high school couples seventeen or younger. Unfortunately, the woman at the box office took one look at my unicorn horn and charged us both full price, even after I showed her my driver's license. It left me practically broke, unable to treat Cindy to a post-movie hamburger with our friends.

Cindy had been growing impatient lately, particularly regarding my lack of personal transportation and my devotion to studying for the college scholarship. The unicorn horn didn't earn me any extra points with her either, I must admit. 