Minichan

My friend recently made a mistake in his life, and I offer his story to you, that you may learn from my error.
It all started, as many things do, with him having trouble dumping. These are in his words. I tried to clean it up some.

No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my butt-hair had grown
to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my cheeks. 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 some paper 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 butt of hair. Occasionally, I would
have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, 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 baby. Finally, I wiped the razor
one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My cheeks were 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 cheeks 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 turd-molecules lingering around my brown starfish.
When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky brown/sweat combination. As I made my way back
to my dorm, it started to itch. It 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 again, 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 crack 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 cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own turds
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 at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for this
hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my cheeks. 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 whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said "Fresh" and it had dice in the
mirror. If anything I could tell that this cab was rare but I thought "Nah, forget it, go home to Bel-Air!" I pulled up to
a house about 7 or 8 and I yelled to the cabbie "Yo Homes, smell you later!" I looked at my kingdom, I was finally there,
to sit on my throne, as the king of Bel-Air.

Friends: DON'T SHAVE YOUR BUTT HAIR!

@previous (B)

> My friend recently made a mistake in his life, and I offer his story to you, that you may learn from my error.
> It all started, as many things do, with him having trouble dumping. These are in his words. I tried to clean it up some.
>
> No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my butt-hair had grown
> to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my cheeks. 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 some paper 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 butt of hair. Occasionally, I would
> have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, 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 baby. Finally, I wiped the razor
> one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My cheeks were 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 cheeks 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 turd-molecules lingering around my brown starfish.
> When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky brown/sweat combination. As I made my way back
> to my dorm, it started to itch. It 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 again, 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 crack 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 cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own turds
> 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 at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for this
> hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my cheeks. 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 whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said "Fresh" and it had dice in the
> mirror. If anything I could tell that this cab was rare but I thought "Nah, forget it, go home to Bel-Air!" I pulled up to
> a house about 7 or 8 and I yelled to the cabbie "Yo Homes, smell you later!" I looked at my kingdom, I was finally there,
> to sit on my throne, as the king of Bel-Air.
>
> Friends: DON'T SHAVE YOUR BUTT HAIR!

You stole that from reddit

@previous (m0 !50rTWCcYek)
What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.

@OP
Tried to but I couldn't stay twisted like that for long enough.

@previous (D)
I don't understand why you'd need to twist to do it. Do you have stumps for arms?

@previous (A)
well you face forward, then you have to turn your top half around so you can see your butt

it was like playing an embarrassing game of twister with a safety razor

@previous (D)
You don't need to see it to shave it.

@previous (A)
But then what if I miss a spot? I'd look stupid.