I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to all
though tasteless, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as
many things do, with me having trouble pooping. No, I was not
constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of
technique.
It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were
constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. It
led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to
drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair
dwelling.
Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with
somepaper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required
careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear,
especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for
broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal
matter before the toilet paper reached its Can't-Be-Flushed threshold. I
was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be
a bright idea. "Hey, this is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why
don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out
like beer from a keg!" I said to myself. It is a statement that will go
down in history with a lot of other regretted statements. "How many
Indians could there be?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day
for a drive!" by JFK. "There! America On-line now has complete Usenet
access!" by some idiot system tech. Such was my anal shaving idea.
I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and
a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack
to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my ass of hair.
Occasionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair, which
I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the
between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn babe.
Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The
towel was covered with a pile of hair. My ass was smooth as ivory. I
smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.
Little did I know. I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like
everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in
existence. It was only after I had removed it
that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For
one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked
out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs
and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The
sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant
sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I
thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to
class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry. Unfortunately, it did dry,
but only after mingling with the microscopic poop -molecules lingering
around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were
stuck together with a slimy sticky poop/sweat combination. As I made my
way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt
like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting
to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed
back to the dorm. Unfortunately, this exertion caused me to sweat, and
when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth
against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my
pants, and attempted to dry my ass off by sticking it in front of a fan
and spreading my cheeks.
As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free
and filled the room. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl.
I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering poop/sweat went
into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving.
And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my ass cheeks spread and dripping,
with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell
of my own poop blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: "It
will be like this until the hair grows back. Weeks." Later on, trying to
deal as best I could, wiping my ass at every opportunity, I discovered
another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch
a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks.
Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed
together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down
between my cheeks like a lost gerbil. As if that wasn't enough, I am now
enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows,
when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your ass
having the texture of a brillo pad.
Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and
there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why
I shouldn't just jump out and
get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this
constant agony.
Friends-DON'T SHAVE YOUR ASS-HAIR!
