Wax fobs in hand, Gajandra approached the Ban-Ban tree where the Scatoman was reputed to hang out.

"O Scatoman!" called Gajandra, "It is I, Gajandra, Son of the Sri Pootooh Shamans, come to tell you a little story, great beast."

The ground quaked and swelled and a great aperture opened up, from it arising the mountainous horror of the Scatoman, who had terrorized the Kingdom for many months.

"Who dares disturb my sleep?" called out the Scatoman, through his anus-like mouth. The hideous creature stood twelve men high, appearing more like a hodgepodge of various intestinal organs with two thick lumpy legs than like a living beast.

It was covered with seeping anuses of all types, and, if not for the 10% of Elizabeth Montgomery, would surely have seemed quite ugly.

"I have a story for you!"

The Scatoman looked down at the tiny young man below, and dollops of fæces slipped from its anus-like eyes down onto its anus-esque chest.

"What."

"Uhh, did you see that Soul Food movie?"

"No."

"Oh, well that Vanessa Williams, she fine, huh?"

"Yes?"

"Okay, so .... what are you wearing?"

"What? Clothing and coverings are for mortal men! I drape myself in the Abominable Crap of Ages! The public sewer is my Macy's. Poo-Poo is my Banana Replublic™."

"Yeah, that's right... Okay, so, um, the lead singer of Salt -N-Pepa—she fine, huh?"

The great beast thought for a minute, then scratched its anus-analogous head with one of its great, anusian hands.

"Yeah," he agreed, "So? Why shouldn't I just squash you right here and now like anybody else who would dare to speak to me?"

"Oh, uh, cause, ... that Salt-N-Pepa girl, she gimme a message to deliver to you."

The Great Beast eyed Gajandra sceptically. "Yeah?"

"Yes, she said, if you want a piece 'o dat, you kin come 'n getit, but first you gotta prove you is creature enough to handle her."

The great beast raised an anus-adjacent fist to flatten the annoying human into silence, but then, tentatively, paused. "How?" shouted the Scatoman. "How can I prove such a fact to the Harpy?"

"She said you must mimic sex for her in a way greater than any sexmimickry that the Moon Goddess has ever requested!"

"Mimic... sex?"

"Yes, you know—masturbate."

"AAARRRRRAAAAGGHHHHHHHHH," cried the Scatoman, "You have come to taunt me! I cannot mahz-tur-bate! Can you not see that I am all Butt-hole!? I have no penis!"

"Oh."

"I shall KILL you for your IMPUDENCE!!"

The Scatoman reached down to smash Gajandra.

"But wait, O Great Scatoman! She knows. She knows!"

The beast paused.

"She knows??"

"Yes, she knows that, despite all your Glorious.. Beastiality, you have no penis. She requires not that you insert yourself in a makeshift receptacle, but rather, that you merely mimic sex. With all your great treasury of anuses, surely you can find a way!"

Gajandra added, in his best affected adolescent parlance, "She's got really nice... ‘tee-taes,’ I hear."

"Yes. Yes, that's it! I will hurl myself upon the Great Obelisk of Chaeops. Surely the entry of that giant spire through any one of my many apertures would count as sexmimicry!"

And with that, the Great Beast bounded through the nearby village, killing most of the villagers in his haste, to the outskirts of town, where stood the Great Obelisk of Chaeops.

As advised, Gajandra quickly inserted the wax fobs into his princely ear canals.

"For YOU, bitch," cried the scatological atrocity, as it ran and jumped and sprang tens of men high into the air and fell down toward the obelisk. Like a Great Tomato on a Great Spit, the obelisk impaled the Scatoman, entering through his Main Anus and exiting through one of the vestigial ani near his eyebrows.

"AIIEEEEEE!" cried the living abomination, "I DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!," in a death shriek whose volume deafened and then slayed thousands of villagers in dozens of nearby villages.

"Well done, Master," said Jutu, who had been waiting near the Obelisk. Jutu removed the wax fobs from his ears.

"Jutu! You startled me. Look you! The Scatoman is DEAD!"

"Yes Master, impaled by his own foolish lust!"

"But at what cost?" asked Gajandra, gazing with utter disgust at the horrific sight. "Surely this unholy scene will only grow more terrible over the coming weeks, as the many metric tonnes of tissue transmute through the advanced stages of decay, bringing debilitating stench and disease! Shall we order the nearby villagers to gather a disposal detail to bury these tonnes of abominable remains?"

"That is wise, Master," replied Jutu, "but I'm afraid there aren't enough survivors to undertake such a task."

"So many were slain as the beast carried out its own destruction; was this really a good thing to do?" asked the great pre-Vedic hero.

Jutu paused for a moment. "Yes," he replied, "Chances are, more villagers were saved than perished, and the survivors will surely be grateful to you for your selfless heroic deed."

Gajandra placed his wax fobs back into their pouch and pocketed them as the two headed back toward their encampment.

As they crossed over the closest hill, Jutu was heard to voice the mysterious phrase, "More or less."