Hello, may I have a moment?
I have something very important to ask you.
What is it?
It’s an intimate question. Awkward, even. I need you... to wax my buttcrack.
I know it’s asking a lot. I know we’re not that close, I know that —
Why? Why would you ask me this? Now of all times? As I’m about to leave for the day…
It itches… tremendously. It’s itching right now. Terribly. It hurts. And I think it’s because of the tiny prickles. It feels like I have an army of small hedgehogs or perhaps ants inserted between my ass cheeks, all the time, continuously marching up and down and tickling away. It’s agony.
Do you know where those hairs might have come from?
They came from when you shaved my buttcrack.
They came from when I shaved your buttcrack. Last week. Yes.
We had a very similar conversation right before it happened. Do you remember what I said?
And what was that?
It was something to the effect of, “If I do this, it will be the only time I ever go near that part of you for as long as I live.”
So why are you asking me this?
Because I’m your friend and I’m in constant pain.
We are not friends. You consider an itchy buttcrack to be constant pain?
You’ve clearly never had one. Trying to scratch it… it’s like my very spinal column lights up…
I’m not waxing your buttcrack. Do you have any idea how insane that is? I was just down there last week with an electric razor, spreading your ass cheeks apart so I could get in properly. “Deeper, deeper,” you kept saying.
You did a fantastic job.
(sharply) You’re right, I don’t know the agony of an itchy post-shaven buttcrack, but I do know the agony of seeing my male employer cupping his balls and groaning with what he said was relief as an electric razor buzzed and I scraped layer after layer of small black pubes out his slimy buttcrack. Can you imagine the “agony” of that? Can you imagine the smell?
Not only can I imagine it, I have to live with it.
I had to wear nose plugs. I wasn’t able to take them off, not even when we were done. I could still smell it. For days. In fact, I was only able to forget it just now before you came in.
I am eternally grateful for what you have done, and the relief I experienced was unlike anything I’d experienced before. The few days it lasted were among my best on this world. But now… I can’t even sit down. I’ve been standing since I got up this morning. The asscrack hairs have returned. They are killing me.
You realize that if we hadn’t shaved anything, you wouldn’t be in this situation at all.
Not true. On the contrary, I had to shave. If you’ll recall our conversation, I was in a similar distress. It was itching then, too. I’d washed with every soap imaginable. I had tried everything. This is the only way. I’m sure of it. We must wax.
I’m going to do you one better. We’re going to buy you an ass scratcher. Or rather, you are going to buy yourself an ass scratcher because you’re the boss and therefore you’re the one with the money.
(shakes head) A temporary fix.
Just listen to me — an ass-scratcher, one that you can slide easily and discreetly between your butt cheeks and one that produces the relief you seek with only a few smooth, simple movements of the arm. Perhaps they even make ones that are designed specifically for buttcracks.
Is this the best I can hope for out of my best employee? An ass scratcher?
It beats getting my fingers anywhere near your asscrack ever again. I wore three pairs of gloves and it still didn’t help.
You realize waxing is not nearly as intimate as shaving, yes? You merely smear the wax in, apply the paper, and rip. Your fingers go nowhere near my buttcrack. The little wooden wax-applier does that. And we won’t have to do this again for months if ever.
The very description just made me throw up in my mouth a little.
The itchiness is increasing in intensity even as we stand here. You are my only hope. You are my only salvation.
And what exactly are you prepared to offer me for this salvation?
I will pay you a full year’s salary. For this one task. Which will take perhaps three minutes, tops. And I hear it’s tremendously painful. For the person being waxed, that is. My asscrack is an especially sensitive part of my body —
Please never say the words ‘my asscrack’ and ‘sensitive’ in the same sentence ever again, please.
But you’ll produce a painful sensation that very well may cause me to scream. And in my pain you may find a grim satisfaction.
None of this is helping your case, sir.
A full year’s salary. To be paid in full upon the morrow.
Ok, fine, two year’s salary. That is how important it is to me that this get solved. Today and here and now.
… three year’s salary.
…Plus, the next six months off. Paid. And after that, a yearly month’s vacation to be taken, at a moment’s notice, whenever I want. That’s all in addition to the 50% bonus I’ll require the moment this task is performed.
Damn you. Fine.
Have you collected the hot wax and necessary materials?
I wouldn’t have bothered asking you if I didn’t. And mark my words, if I were physically capable of doing a thorough job on my own, I can assure you I’d have never asked.
…let’s just get this over with.
Thank you, Roger.
My name is Jerry, sir.
I apologize. You’re doing God’s work here.