Apartment hunting

Peppered mustache, if we're talking tan flakes instead of the black, sauntered us through like he rode in on a horse - Wranglers, boots, button-down shirt and twang - with a whitediamond on it's snout, bending at the knees to work the ache out. The Mustache Vanna Whited the branched rooms while snaking through the middle, barbed tongue darting in scheduled bursts. The perfect space by it's squinting, as it followed suit finding canned meat and beans in cabinets, genuine salutations left for the one who signed the right forms. Comfort shifts hips side to side from the weather and the mouth beneath repeats itself. Mustache's going to get paid tonight.