The Great Moustache Hunt

Trying to turn himself into Colonel Mustard has not been an easy job for Grumpy. He can't find a suitable suit anywhere, and if he's not careful he's going to simply have to wrap himself in yellow card and pretend to be the actual game piece instead of the character.
It's ok, we haven't gone crazy, at least no more than usual. It's just that we're appearing as new characters at Naper Settlement's Halloween event next weekend and we're both as ridiculous as each other when it comes to the fine details.
Yesterday marked five days before dress rehearsal. I, of course, have an entire outfit including props. Grumpy has a monocle and a pipe.
"I wouldn't worry," I said, with the confidence of someone with a costume that wouldn't look out of place in a Broadway show. "The Settlement have said they'll provide you with a suit."
Grumpy was a little happier when he came in from work. The false handlebar moustache he'd ordered from a costume shop in Bolingbrook (a neighbouring town) was ready to be collected.
Although it may not be far, you cannot drive within an inch of downtown Naperville without running into construction. The journey took us about 45 minutes.
"Here you are," said the store owner. "One salt and pepper handle bar moustache."
Grumpy looked disappointed.
"It's a bit small," he said.
I held it up to his face. He looked more like Kaiser Wilhelm than Colonel Mustard.
"It's definitely supposed to be an English handlebar moustache," said the owner, now a little worried. Double checking, it was indeed the wrong thing. Since it had taken over a week to arrive, it was a little late to order another one.
Service is second to none in the mid West. Within seconds she was on to another store and located the object of our desires. Our little moustache was only 3" wide. The new one was 6", much better.
By now it was 6.20 p.m.
"The other store isn't far," she lied. "About five miles away."
Despite the fact we have a GPS, she spent ten minutes drawing an intricate map on the back of a business card, then we were off.
The other store turned out to be in Joliet, about 20 miles away. It looked like it was a disused warehouse made of corrugated iron. The owner looked suspiciously like the owner of the previous store.
She spent a further 20 minutes explaining how to affix said moustache, even though it only required a dab of spirit gum.
We probably drove about 50 miles in total to buy a moustache that cost $6.99. Next time I think Grumpy will just have to grow his own. If he starts on November 1st, it should be ready by next year's Halloween event.