Susy had always been a happy girl. This ended

Susy had always been a happy girl. This ended when she once heard about World War II and all its cruelties that took place. Especially one story about a...

mustache that had once been the height of fashion, but thanks to a certain Mr Hitler, it fell out of popularity for over a century. She pitied the mustache, and wanted to grow one

. Sadly lacking facial growth, she knit a good handlebar with a pair of circular needles and a garter stitch. She wore it in front of the mirror. Looking askance, she felt

as if it was missing something crucial - "hmm", she murmured to herself, "I could certainly get into any gentleman's club or no girls allowed treehouse with this 'stache, if only

I still had that wax my father always used to use." Memories of a shiny, uniformly cylindrical handlebar mustache flitted through her mind as she ruffled through her coat pocket

Her hand hit the bottom of the pocket. Nothing. Had she forgotten the note? She looked towards her eyelids, as many people do when they think hard. Was it back at

the hospital? "Oh damn," she muttered. She flopped down on the ground and dumped the contents of her purse. Among other odds and ends, three white capsules fell from the bag,

her friend, Octopurr. She began to wonder if someone had switched her pills with LSD capsules, but then remembered that it was actually the other way around, and got

a headstart on the hallucinatory rats chasing her up the wall. She realized this must be what they called "Trippin," and closed her eyes to block it out, but tripped over Octopurr