Rocco Tenaglia, contributor
Savage Henry recently went international; as such, contributors were asked to go overseas and collect hard-hitting news stories for a new section in the mag called “Oh No We SHIT Int.” The mag flew me out to Amsterdam first class so that I could do a piece on underground sex dungeons, but what I ended up discovering was much more disturbing. In one of the more secret establishments, I ran into a rather decrepit old man, who enjoyed cleaning up the floors. That man was Adolf Hitler.
As I was attempting to glean information about his unlikely survival, his hobbies, and his new facial hair, the controversial 128-year-old former politician told me I had a “lovely rump” before he slowly reached his hand toward my rear end and attempted to squeeze, shrieking out in pain. “To even touch it is a sincere honor,” he said, through tears.
While he was clearly moved by the experience, I was in a prison of torment. There I was, talking to someone who shattered the world’s oldest person record by six years, and all he could do was talk about my butt.
I backhanded the old man and he died instantly. I killed Hitler and they had a parade for me and gave me a million dollars, which I donated to a reputable charity, because Savage Henry already pays me enough money.