Noah Jackson Fucking Dies

The sound of my next-door neighbour mowing his lawn fills the suburb. The sun hits my back as me and dad stare at the mountain of alcohol that is now covering my kitchen island from our shopping trip. We stare at this liquid gold, our arms folded. Fuzz rubs his chin and closes his eyes.

FUZZ: "Noah..."

"Yes, cunt?"

FUZZ: "Where is Savage?"

I think for a moment.

"Canada?"

FUZZ: "And where are we with hundreds of dollars worth of alcohol."

"... In my house which is not in Canada."

FUZZ: "Correct, now bear with me here, how are we going to get all this to Savage which is in Canada?"

I place my hands on my hips looking down.

"... Ah, beans."

FUZZ: "We fucked up. We fucked up pretty bad here."

"It'll be fine." I grab a can of White Claw from the pile and begin to drink. "Canadians seem pretty laid back, I'm sure we can ship all this across the border."

Fuzz walks around the pile in deep thought.

FUZZ: "Not this much. We need to lighten the load, you haven't got a wine cellar or some shit have you?"

"Do I look like the kind of cunt that has a wine cellar?"

Fuzz huffs scratching his chin. He then looks to me, the can of White Claw pressed against my lip, he smirks and points at me.

FUZZ: "You're going to drink half of everything here."

I almost spit out the beer and splutter out a response.

"You fucking what, cunt?"

Dad comes over to me and wraps an arm over my shoulder, throwing an arm past the huge amount of grog like he's Mufasa showing me everything the light touches is ours.

FUZZ: "Think about it, we need to lighten this pile, you have a match where you need to get wasted. This will build your tolerance and you'll have fun while doing it."

I turn to Dad with a smile and take a good long sip of White Claw.

"Are you proposing what I think you're proposing, cunt?"

Fuzz nods his head and we go into a super-secret Sick Cunt handshake.

MONTAGE, CUNT!
MONTAGE, CUNT!

---

---

Now in my workout gear of a Vita tee and blue booty shorts, Fuzz stands behind me and gives me a nod as I place both my hands on top of a keg and Dad holds my shins as I do an impressive keg stand and put the tap in my mouth, letting the beer flow into my mouth. Fuzz yells encouragement but the sweet tones of 'Push it to the Limit' blasting from the sound system drown him out, I then go full 'LAD' and begin to do push-ups while drinking. Blood rushes to my head as I continue the most sickest of exercises. It's about the time my arms begin to give and I start to lose consciousness when Dad lowers me down from the keg. My time back on my feet is brief as the dizziness sets in and I fall to the ground, Dad asks if I'm okay and I give him a thumbs-up, a drunken smirk curling up on my face. Dad gives me a supportive nod and we go to round 2.

Bicep curls with a can of Victoria Bitter in each hand, each can hitting my lip as I sip the sweet Aussie nectar. After both cans are tanked, I drop to my chest and begin doing push-ups, Fuzz sliding shot after shot of Fireball with the efficiency of a true sick cunt. As I go down, I grip the shot glass between my teeth and suck out the cinnamon liqueur with the force of a vacuum cleaner. Shot after shot, push-up after push-up, even switching to single-handed because cunt I'm fucking amazing. Starting to feel a fair bit slaughtered though, I end the push-ups at 23 300 after I fall face-first onto a shot glass and fuck up my eye pretty bad, got a big ol' ring-shaped bruise round the cunt now.

ROUND 3! Endurance! In my small gym room, I fall against the large mirror and smash the cunt to pieces but laugh it off because I am blitzed, cunt. Fuck seven years bad luck, too sick for that shit. Dad guides me towards the treadmill and helps me step on it. I stand wobbling and give a hiccup as Dad hits start and the treadmill begins to move at a slow pace; I almost slide right off the cunt but me legs start to work and I move on the cunt looking like a toddler whose bones are made out of jelly. When I find a decent balance, Fuzz grabs a funnel and a hose, a slight hint of regret in his eyes as my glassed over face stares blankly back at him. Dad hand me the end of the hose which I take and hold steadily at chest height as I continue my stride. Fuzz looks to me and pushes my arm up to my face until I suckle on the hose, he then begins to pour... Something down the funnel... It's at this point when regret kicks in for both of us but we're in too deep now, this is either ending with me no longer getting drunk or with me redecorating the house with my vom. Fuzz empties the bottle and tosses it aside before raising the funnel up and the alcohol pours into my maw. With his spare hand, he repeatedly taps a button on the treadmill to speed the cunt up and my stride turns into a hearty jog.

Guess how long I last?

That's right, cunts, not fucking long at all and I faceplant the treadmill and come off with some fucking speed and crash against the wall behind me. Fuzz comes quickly to my aid as the room spins.

ROUND 4! CRYING! I'm at the emotional point now, don't know what day or time it is, the only thing I know is drinking and pain. I'm not sure how I ended up in the bathtub, the only thing I know is that I feel safe. Fuzz sits on the toilet and keeps an eye on me, he hasn't got his pants down and taking a shit or anything, we're not that close. As I blubber out the most incoherent drivel I've ever said, I finally realise how Big D feels. Crying like a bitch while someone watches you make a twat of yourself. Fuzz finally has enough of my shit and turns the shower on, ruining my work out gear! The cold water hits and I flail around in the tub letting out a high-pitch scream, he thankfully turns the water off as he looks down at me breathing heavily in a panic.

FUZZ: "You sobered up a little?"

I think long and hard on my response.

"... I love you, me, Dad!"

Fuzz sighs with an eye roll and grabs my collar to help me out of the bath. He gives a yawn and stretches his arms as we leave the bathroom, I stumble behind him knocking into every wall, some of which I didn't even know existed, and bounce off the light switch where the hall goes pitch black. I let out a chuckle and a spooky ghost 'oooOOooo' as Fuzz huffs.

FUZZ: "Noah, knock it off, man."

"Why you being such a grumpy cunt, cunt?"

Fuzz struggles to find the light switch as I stumble around in the dark like the world's worst murderer.

FUZZ: "Because this whole plan was a wash. I think hanging around with you is killing off brain cells."

"Don't be rude!"

I feel my heel hit nothing but air and stumble forward a little as the lights come back on. I throw my hands high into the air with a 'yay' as Fuzz squints looking back to me.

FUZZ: "Noah, get away from the stairs you're gonna break your neck or some shit."

I give him a dismissive wave as I blow a raspberry.

"I don't need a baby gate, DAD! I'm sick, chill, cunt!"

... Why the fuck do I speak sometimes?

As if it were fucking fate, I fall back after ending my sentence and crash against the steps and bounce of each as my body turns and twists on each impact off the carpeted stairs. A lie in a heap like a broken slinky at the bottom. I see Fuzz, a blur at the tops of the steps, like a blackened shadow against the harsh light. I barely hear him over the ringing in my skull.

FUZZ: "FUCK! Noah! Are you okay?"

...

"Noah!"



. . .




"Noah?"


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It's bright.








Too bright.








I see a light.








I walk towards it.








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"Ah, fuck me, cunt! A fucking roo!"

"Yes, Noah, I am indeed a roo."

"Never seen a kangaroo in real life before. Bigger than I thought you'd be."

"Noah, do you know how cooked this is, cunt?"

"Fair fucked I would say, am I dead, cunt?"

"Yes."

"That is so not sick."

"Hm."

The roo stays the same distance away as I seemingly float endlessly towards the clouds and bright sun.

"... Are you God?"

"No, Noah. I am the Guardian of Aussie Valhalla."

"Ripper!"

"Too right, mate. You lived your life the true way of Straya, you stayed forever a sick cunt and died in true Aussie fashion."

"... That's sick and all but don't think I'm ready to die. What about Vita? What about Dad?"

"Don't worry, cunt, Paul Hogan is here for you now!"



"G'day, Noah me old cobbler."

"Holy shit! Crocodile Dundee! You died!?"

He laughs.

"Course not, Noah, I can never truly die, you know that."

"That is what they taught us in Sunday School."

"Join us, Noah. Here there is no pain, only sickness. Tim Tams as far as the eye can see, Vegemite with every meal and weekly showings of Crocodile Dundee, Two Hands and Chopper. This is your dream."

I fall silent as the roo and Paul Hogan look down at me. Crocodile Dundee's face turns from a smile to a quiet stoicism.

"He's not ready, Kangaroo of the Sky."

"Don't be a cunt, Paul, look at him! He's ready ain't you, Noah!"

"Erm... Don't think I am to be honest."

The roo sighs.

"Fair dinkum, cunt. Your loss."

"He'll join us one day but... Noah can't be the cunt who loses the TV title to Donovan Blackwater."

"Fucking too right, cunt!"

Paul gives a wink and I feel a strong weight to my body as I fall far and fast.


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My eyes slowly open up to see two paramedics tending me and Dad breathe a sigh of relief as my eyes focus on him in the back.

FUZZ: "Oh thank fuck!"

I crack a smile looking at him. One of the medics puts a torch to my eyes.

RUDE CUNT: "You seem fine for the most part, luckily you were limp when you fell. No broken bones."

OTHER CUNT: "Does it hurt when I touch here?"

"Nah, cunt."

OTHER CUNT: "Here?"

"No, cunt! Will you stop touching me!?"

I say in a raspy voice, I try and clear my throat but cough up some phlegm and reluctantly swallow it back down.

RUDE CUNT: "We're going to take you to the closest hospital, okay Noah? See if you have a concussion or anything."

"No wuckas... Can I talk to my Dad?"

The two medics looks to one another and back to me.

OTHER CUNT: "I don't think your dad is here, Noah."

Fuzz places a hand on his shoulder and interrupts.

FUZZ: "Yeah that's me it's a-it's a whole thing." Fuzz kneels down to me as the medic budges over. "How you feeling, Noah?"

"I called it."

I say weakly, Fuzz raises an eyebrow placing a hand on my shoulder.

FUZZ: "Called what?"

"Donovan's promo..." I crack a smile. "He talked to a brother, moped around and tried to draw intrigue where there is none, like a sad cunt."

Fuzz pats my shoulder with a grin.

FUZZ: "Yeah you did buddy."

We both share a quiet snicker before I throw up, fucking everywhere.

Never. Drinking. Again.

---

It's Friday night, Savage is tomorrow and I'm wearing a neck brace like a cunt. Oh well, nothing a can of VB can't solve.

"Blackwater is a predictable cuck."

"He's a boring fucking piece of shit who would rather waste everyone's time than just be a fucking wrestler for fucking once. I know I made the point in the past that I don't care about titles, but here I am with one and I refuse to be a lacklustre fuckhead like Big D or Duke or Blackwater and just be like, I'm too cool for this mediocre prize. Nah, fuck that, it's a title! It deserves SOME fucking respect, right? A lot of people are never going to hold this cunt! This thing fell into my lap but fuck it, I'm going to roll with it. I'm not going to give it up or half-ass this shit because I refuse to be those lazy, docile cunts before me because I'm better, I'm fucking sick! And I find it hilarious, fucking hilarious that Donnie, the fucking prick, spends his day not talking about the shit he's being paid to do."

"He's meant to be a wrestler!"

"How many times did he mention me?"

"Once."

"How many times did he mention this match?"

"Once."

"After mentioning this, did he go on about how he will try and win this match?"

"Did he fuck, cunts."

"His cunt brother is trying to get me over if anything! So fine, Donnie, you don't want to talk to me, I don't want to talk to you. I'll play your school game silent treatment bullshit. Not like you ever had a chance of winning this fucking thing, you look like the type of cunt who gets tipsy looking at some Wine Gums... Do you cunts have Wine Gums?" I have a sneaky peak at my phone and google that shit and mutter what's said under my breath as I read. "Similar in taste and chewiness to a candy available in the U.S. called Jujubes. ... Jujubes!? The fuck? And you Yanks say we name shit weird. Whatever, Donnie looks like the kinda cunt who gets drunk on Jujubes... The whole bit's ruined now! Thanks, America! You cunt!"

"I can hold my own, I died briefly sure, but I did aces before that slip-up. Fucking no lightweight here, cuntaroo! So, if Blackwater wants to tug himself off while screaming for daddy and finding his family across the states like he's one of the Dudley Boyz then let the cunt. I got a new t-shirt I wanna plug!"

"Have you ever wanted to be a member of the Sick Cunts ™ but know that deep in your heart you will never achieve the depths of sickness that we emit?"

"Are you a manchild who likes 90s cartoons and when cunts steal their logos for sick redesigns?"

"Do you want to cover your fat hairy body so Cheeto dust doesn't get entwined into your chest hair?"

"Well, cunt have I got the perfect shirt for you!"

I show off this sexy cunt.



"It's the Rugrats inspired Sick Cunt t-shirt I got made for no fucking reason whatsoever!"

"I have been trying for fucking AGES on how I can link Rugrats to us and apart from the very rude joke that me and Fuzz are babies, which is not true nor funny, I can't really think of a good reason... We both liked the show growing up? Fuck it, guess that's the reason. We liked the show so this cunt was born. Comes in one colour but is available in up to XXXXL! Because I have seen some of you cunts and fuck me, you big guys take up like 4 seats in the arena! It's impressive. One of these cunts can fill up more space than Blackwater's entire fanbase!"

"FUCK!"

"Said I wasn't gonna talk about him... Shit!"

"Well, fuck you, Donovan! You even ruined my ad for this sick t-shirt which will be available soon on the XWF store unless Vinnie Lane dicks me over or just forgets to get shit done."

"Buy my shirt!"

"Buy my cereal."

"Smash that like button, ring that bell and hit subscribe."

"And don't forget to PUSH NOAH!"

"Sickest Television Champion in the world, out."