 My Mustachio es Fabuloso by Mustachio Orlando, Syndicated Columnist
When ju tink of me, what comes to jor head? Could it be my sexy ojos? Could it be my sexy lips? Could it be da my curvy hamhocks?
Halo! It is Mustachio! When a million woman asks me such tings such as dese, in her mind she only desires for four or seven tings—for A., Mustachio to visit her dorsal region wit da filament on his able-bodied handlebars, and, sí, for Mustachio to say “Buenos días” to her purring feline. Honk, honk!
Mi respuesta to da hot chicks is always da similar. "Mustachio is going to kiss ju wit some sexy hairy lips. And den Mustachio will show ju his medium-sized peepee." And I don’t mean to pull jor arm, but dey gobbles it up. Literally! Dis leaves me to begin wit a tought. Mi—Mustachio’s—mustache es fabulous!
In da year 1969, da man walked on da moon. In 1976, man invented da Velcro. And in 1985, yo, Mustachio Orlando grew what da my good friend Burt Reynolds referred to as “da only true male pudendum.” What do dese quasi-similar tings have in common? Well, it’s not not getting jor tortoise waxed, dat’s for sure! Zing!
I do not mean to blow his own trompa here, but if da universe was filled wit mustachios it would be a boring place for me and da women I please en la noche. But since it isn’t and since dere is only one Mustachio, I tell ju bald-lipped atún-scratchers to be alarmed on da lookout. Mustachio won’t go flocking to jor novía. But jor bitch may come running to my cultivated Poncho Villa, eh?
Es like my Uncle Barba used to say: “Te asustas de las mujeres y te cobijas con la mortaja.” Dis means dat if ju aren’t afraid of defunct ladies, use hair on jor face as a shroud to smooch dem! Ba da bing! And hasta luego! |
