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Mumbo stood in front of a highly polished bronze sheet, looking in his reflection. He’d never regretted becoming a vampire, but the lack of a reflection in silver mirrors irritated him. He’d found ways around it in his centuries of living, but it still irked him. Bronze had a tendency to wash him out.
As he’d suspected, there was still no growth on his upper lip, his former grand Mustache completely missing. There was no hair their whatsoever, and he sighed, albeit clumsily at the sight. Vampires weren’t the best with expressive noises due to their lack of breathing. It came out sounding more like a cough.
If you had asked Mumbo what he would miss most about being human before he’d been turned, he would have said food. Yet now he found it was his moustache he missed so much. It had been such an iconic part of his identity, a feared motif from his time as an assassin. But without it, who was he?
Over time, the importance of the symbolism had disappeared, and guests no longer noticed the twiring golden staches in his crest. Over the past decade, Mumbo had been trying to grow a new moustache to bring it back, but not a single hair had grown nor budged.
Mumbo knew hair could grow, even as a vampire. He’d had his fair share of long-haired phases and even buzz cuts over his centuries.
So why would his facial hair refuse to grow?
Mumbo ran a pale hand through his silky black hair and readjusted his glasses, even though he no longer needed them. He wanted to regain his symbolism – but how?
Clearly, everything he’d tried hadn’t worked so far. Magical potions from the far north, tonics from the Goldsmith kingdom. He’d even gone to his good friend Tango, who had only laughed at him. Apparently he was too busy to help, having a new fledgling to care for.
Mumbo had liked Tango’s boyfriend, but not while he took the attention away from him. His moustache was a problem, thank you very much, and he wanted it to be real. It was far less worrisome about someone using it for leverage if it was real, and it also would be easier to keep constant.
But alas, he had no success and even some of the fake alternatives he’d tried hadn’t worked. He needed this stache so he could go back to his assassin days, missing the thrill of wandering the nights as he had before. Sure, the moustache wasn’t essential per say, but he wanted it. No matter what it took and who laughed at him.
So, Mumbo was all alone with his issue and stuck at a crossroad. He really wanted his iconic symbol back but it seemed essentially impossible. He supposed he could keep trying but would it get them anywhere? He did not think so.
So instead, Mumbo moved away from the bronze shield he’d been admiring his disappointing reflection in and went back to his own room. A retinue of servants had clearly come in and cleaned up, as there wasn’t Redstone components all over the floor. Mumbo ignored this development however, wandering over to an unassuming wooden box on his nightstand.
He carefully lifted the lid to reveal a perfectly shaped black moustache, twirled just slightly at the ends.
It was magnificent.
Next to it was a magical no-slip stick solution. A witch up in the far North had recommended it – Gemini something.
Apply 2-3 drops on desired location. Add desired object and press down firmly.
He opened the lid and gently put the clear substance on his upper lip, before grabbing his new ornament. With the palm of his hand, he pressed down, and grinned when he felt it stick. He quickly fixed his face to ensure it fixed properly, however. With a little more pressure applied, Mumbo let go and smiled when it stuck completely. He rushed back to his bronze mirror to see his reflection.
Mumbo reached his location and stood proudly as he saw how chobblesome he looked. His new moustache proudly presented itself and reminded him of the old days.
MumboJumbo, the moustached assassin was back!
He bared his fangs in the mirror, to see if he looked intimidating enough, and it almost scared him. But could you imagine, the MumboJumbo, scared of his reflection – never!
He was riding the high of his newly reinstated appearance when he accidentally bumped into one of the servants, a macaw who seemed to be balancing many sheets, stacked far above their head. There vibrant red wings flapped in distress as they glared down at the offensive sheets from his position above them on the ground.
“Hey, watch where you’re go-” The macaw started speaking angrily until he seemed to realise who he was talking to. He quickly tucked his wings in, including the ones on his head a dipped into a short bow. “ Apologies, my lord, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Forgive me, I didn’t recognise you immediately.”
Mumbo was chuffed to bits at how well his new moustache was already working – there was a reason he had used it for so long all those years ago. Stars, he missed those nights, roaming through the streets, swinging from window to window.
And, it wasn’t like he was going to blame this servant for being angry – it was Mumbo who hadn’t noticed. Sure, other vampire lords would kill for less, but Mumbo had restraint.
“No, it’s quite alright. Sorry for interrupting your work.” Mumbo replied formally, before stepping past the servant to allow them to regain their composure. They were quite handsome, with short sandy hair and those gorgeous bright red wings. Mumbo would have to remember them.
“What’s your name?” He asked politely, and while they hesitated initially, the man answered eventually.
“Grian, my lord.” He continued to keep his head bowed down.
Grian, huh? What a fitting name for a bright bird. Mumbo hummed in affirmation, and before the man could protest he grabbed his hand and kissed it formally.
“Pleasure to meet you Grian, I apologise for interrupting your day.” He left with one final dramatic bow. From down the hallway he could hear the servant spluttering and his heartbeat elevate. Mumbo hoped he would see the man again.
All that mattered for now though was that he had his moustache.