As soon as the challenge was given, the three traditional judges appeared.

“Let’s have a good clean contest,” said Wyatt Earp.

“No weaves or wigs,” warned Vercingetorix.

“Let the best mustache win!” announced Louis Blériot.

Tesla and Bismarck glared at each other, mustaches bristling with power. Lightning crackled through Tesla’s, while Bismarck’s well-regimented hairs marched in step. Thunder rolled across the sky and soldiers on both sides stared, transfixed with awe, at the two fantastic examples of manly facial hair.

Bismarck and Tesla seemed to be at an impasse. Even in the expert eyes of the judges, their mustaches were evenly matched.

“Hitler will fall!” said Tesla through gritted teeth. “Tyranny must be opposed!”

“I cannot let you triumph!” countered Bismarck. “I must defend my master, and Germany!”

“I must know,” gasped Tesla, “Why do you let a man with such a terrible mustache rule your beloved homeland?”

Bismarck gasped. He had no answer. His mustache drooped.

“The winner is Tesla!”