Hitlers Toothbrush

Hitler’s Toothbrush



It was 1945 when the most hated man in the world leaned over the balcony over The Eagles Nest to admire his handiwork. He had torn Germany to pieces with his insidious propaganda, and fuelled the hatred for millions of Germans towards a group of people that incurred a terrible price for his selfish whims. Death, mayhem, torture, economic collapse, was this to be scrawled on the blood-smeared rock that marked his fucking tomb? Nein. The Allied forces were slowly drawing closer and the massive plumes of smoke that signaled yet another defeated regiment of the Nazi army grew in size, until the cloud of war threatened to engulf all of Austria.



‘Nein, not like this’, thought the uni-testicular midget with the Charlie Chaplin mustache. Nein! Hitler passed a gloved hand over his desperately receding hairline, slicking the oily quaff back into its tight shape. He walked to the entrance of the veranda, touched a button on the intercom and spoke, ‘Goebbels, GOEBBELS! Make your way to my private chambers NOW!’ Wherever Goebbels was, he would be sure to be by the door of Hitler’s private room before Die Furher (in German: tiny pedophile) was there. Hitler goose-stepped down a series of winding stairs, pulled the nose on a bust of Julius Cesar and waited in disdain as the door to his secret corridor slid open. Fifteen cockroaches scurried by the biggest cockroach of them all, not even pausing to wiggle their antennas on him. 



The great cocksucker approached his door with a wry smile on his misbegotten visage. Goebbels, another chief turd in his army waited by the door, unwittingly partnered to a madman and his absurd ideologies. ‘Good, good I am very pleased that you are here. This is the end for us. We have a day, maybe hours left before those goddamn Jew-loving sympathisers make their way into my fortress.’ Goebbels spoke, ‘I…’

‘SHUT THE FUCK UP GOEBBELS’ moaned the interrupting little cunt, ‘and get inside my room.’



Pointing to his bathroom, ‘Inside there is my favorite possession, a toothbrush made from the finger of a great Rabbi. I watched in glee as it was snapped off his lifeless body only moments after he was shot. I then instructed Eva to boil it, remove the flesh and bless the bone with Nazi magic.’

‘What so…’

‘If you say one more word Goebbels, I will ask the guards to remove your cock!’ snapped the gangly emperor of nothing. ‘You are my chief Supernatural advisor. Now, clearly there is plenty that we have fucked up, and fucked up royally, but chanting ancient Jew bones is our greatest accomplishment. I want to live on forever.’ Hitler raced as fast as his stumpy little one-balled body could carry him to the bathroom and snatched up the Jew-finger Toothbrush, ‘Inside this toothbrush!’



Goebbels stared at the dirty ebony toothbrush. It was very crude in design, with intricate carvings that ran down the side. It was unquestionably a finger bone, with tiny horsehairs glued into the tip. ‘If I may speak Mein Furher…’

’You may.’

’ Thank you; so you wish for me to magically take your spirit and place it inside a toothbrush?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay that shouldn’t be much of an issue. I will need for you to kill yourself though.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘The faster the better, once you die, I can place your soul inside any vessel; all it would take is a simple enchantment but the host body must die so that it can live on in the new receptacle.’

‘Alright then. Now listen closely, once I kill myself I want you to take the toothbrush and use it nightly. It is my hope that my soul will then instill itself into you, creating a new Hitler. Before you die Goebbels, I want you to pass it onto your children. I will live eternal this way. Goodbye, old friend.’

Hitler pulled out a glimmering luger, encased in gold with diamond inlay. A skull with tiny swastika eyes was etched into the base of the luger and smiled as the goddamn hugest fuckface the world has ever seen placed the cylinder to his forehead, squeezed the trigger and did the planet the biggest favour he could ever do. Hitler sprayed what little brain matter he had against the wall. Tiny pieces of skull pelted Goebbels in the chin and the body of a madman lay dead on the ground, a smoking hole in his head marked the end of his life.

Goebbels had no time to waste. He quickly ran with the toothbrush in hand, out of the secret bedroom, up the dusty stairs, past fifteen cockroaches, onto the veranda and threw the toothbrush as far as he could. The Jew-finger toothbrush sailed past a fir tree and landed in a pond. Goebbels smiled as it sank to the bottom. He pulled out a cigar, took a long draw and breathed out.

‘Fucking idiot.’

The clouds were clearing up and the sun peeked through the reminder of the foggy mess. It was going to be a glorious day.