The following is a fictional diary entry for a steampunk project.
4 February, 1879, Brazil
The mustache manufacturing is proceeding better than expected. Fortunately, I have an ample supply of hair clippings to draw from. Alistair is maddeningly particular. We have created a series of mustaches to approximate the appearance of actually growing one, though why he insists on going through all the awkward intermediate stages is beyond my understanding. It is tolerable only because it is limited in scope to a couple of months.
I am pleased to report that the handsome roustabout we hired in Rapid City has admitted to possessing a first name. Mr Creighton was helping me inspect the starboard envelope for small tears when I ‘accidentally’ slipped and lost my footing on the frame. He quickly steadied me so I would not fall. I told him that I could only tolerate such forward behavior from a man with whom I am on a first name basis. I do love the way Jonathan pronounces my name.