by Balls Malone
In the olden days of the Bavarian Alps, folk would whisper of the Anusrasiertleckenman.
As the story goes, on the vernal equinox if you slept out of doors or in a barn or shed, the Anusrasiertleckenman would visit you.
Wearing only undersized lederhosen, the Anusrasiertleckenman appeared in the form of a small, rotund man, perfectly hairless but for his marvelously swirled handlebar mustache.
Now, if as you went to sleep, you left beside you a pitcher of fresh cream and a bowl of newly churned butter, the Anusrasiertleckenman would strip you naked, massage your body and his with the cream and butter provided, and then shave your anus skillfully with a razor-sharp hatchet. Only when your anus was perfectly smooth would the Anusrasiertleckenman lick the rest of the cream and butter from inside it.
However, woe to those who might fall asleep out of doors or in a barn on the vernal equinox without providing the Anusrasiertleckenman his dairy offering. For this offense, or for providing cream and butter not of the utmost freshness, the Anusrasiertleckenman would exact a fearsome toll with his hatchet: adding the offender’s anus to the collection he would tote around in a sack made from a troll’s scrotum.
What an exquisite torture it must have been, to feel that blade’s edge in your anus, wondering the whole time if your cream was fresh enough to prevent your hole’s extraction! Thrilling!
These days, cultural anthropologists who can be persuaded to speak of the Anusrasiertleckenman tend to regard him as a cautionary folk tale emphasizing the importance of hygiene standards in dairy production. Of course, the hatchet ass shaving and rim job stuff is just Germans being German.
Muse Vassal 