Noah Jackson Verbally Clubs a Pair of Baby Seals



"But before anything else, let's talk about the cunt in the room."



The sickest cunt in the multiverses sits before you, the unwashed cunt you are stroking your fourth of fifth chin with your cheetoh dusted fingers and awaiting the release of a sweet Noah Jackson promo to pull you from the monotonous bore that is your life, thankful that you found time between games of Minecraft PVP and Hentai compilations set to the music of Drowning Pool and managed to set your autism aside to sit quietly and appreciate the gift I give before you, a Noah Jackson promo. Allow me to allow you to live vicariously through me as I sit on a brand new chair, from IKEA nonetheless, watch as my perfect form sits comfortably on the double quilt, red cushion and my well-toned arms rest on the fine mahogany. Treat your stupid cunt self and pretend that for a brief moment, that you're as sick as me you morbidly obese drain on taxes. I take a sip from the can of VB besides me as movers retrieve my new furniture and place it in my fucking mansion.

Yes, cunts, a mansion.

Lane's a cunt but he pays well. I speak and I see the tears in your eyes as I open my glorious mouth, the stammer of your heart as you struggle to release that breath of awe from your lungs, waiting desperately to hear what I'm about to speak. Knowing! Fucking knowing cunts it will be wise and deep, finally giving a reason on why I 'lost' to that cunt Lack-o. I swallow the delicious beer, it travels down my throat and I see that you're having a fit from the excitement, you chubby little bitch, I see your man tits uncontrollably shaking like a stripper on speed when rent is due. Speak, King Noah! Speak! I hear you scream! Tell us how fucking sick you are so I too feel as sick being a loyal fan.

I rest the can of Victoria Bitter down.

You jump on your gaming chair like a crazed ape. Slamming your pudgy fingers on your Razer keyboard, shaking the hundreds of cans of Monster energy littering your desk and knocking aside your chicken tendies as you have no need for such mortal food as you are suckling on my teet of unbound wisdom and sickness! Primal urges have taken over your frail, Adderal ridden mind and you feel empowered as I wet my lips and slowly open my mouth.

You begin to salivate from the mouth like a rabid hound! My aura of sickness causing you to go into overdrive! Perhaps some younger viewers pass out, unable to contain the mind-blowing, unadulterated 'sick cunt' wave I'm unleashing with my presence.

I speak the first letter and the sound reverberates your souls, sending you to the shadow realm as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Noah Jackson has made you see and feel things no one will ever make you feel again! You take your waifu body pillow and cast her into the trash bags in the corner of your room, for you do not need her anymore, she will never bring you to the ecstasy of what you're feeling now! You grab your cum jar, just in case as you stare at the blinding awe of my promo.

Finally...

"I took a fall for more Lane money, cunts."

You cum in unbridled pleasure. A man watching this driving a train derails the cunt as he will see nothing better, killing hundreds of people but the sacrifice was worth it. Of course! I hear you say. Of course, he took the fall against Lacklan! It makes perfect sense, Noah! Truly you are the sickest cunt! But give us more! Please give us more!

I shall, my peasants, I shall.

"You see when Lane slid that cheque across his desk for a cerealSUGARFOODS commercial, I didn't realise I was selling my soul. The cunt has me under wraps, what he says, I do and in return, I'm giving vasts amount of wealth. It's a tough business we work in. He told me to sell that match and take that fall for everything you see before you. My new home, the personal spa and gym, the koi pond and a lifetime supply of Vegemite. I'm sure you cunts at home would do the same and if you say no you're a fucking liar! You see, I didn't even get hurt but still got to kick the shit out of Lacklan and watch as she got covered in shit which is a fucking win in my books!"

I laugh but stop as my chest hurts too much, I hide the pain like a sick cunt.

"It's all worked out perfectly. Lane gets the champion he wanted, Lack-o gets the belt she wanted and I get paid a lot of money and have the fans rally behind me calling bullshit on Lane's favouritism. Fucking beaut, cunts."

I take a sip of VB with my arm that actually works. My left is still cunted after that fucking match.

"Would have I liked to win the belt? Sure, but better things were offered to me and let's be serious cunts, there's like six people on Anarchy, I'm bound to have the title at some point. It's a given. Fuck Anarchy though, we're on Savage and with the way Atticus Black is handing out title shots to random cunts like Steve Justice, I'm bound to be TV champ by the end of the week along with me and my dad being Tag champs by the end of next month. I'm golden, cunts! Our first match in round one is."

I burst out into laughter, unable to control myself, my lungs hurt so fucking much but fuck me, cunts, it is worth it.

"Fucking team adjective! What a fucking luck of the draw! Maybe Lane's doing me a solid. This might be the easiest match of my career, a well-deserved break after competing against such 'talent' as Lacklan, Ruby and of course, John Black. Fucking Miz and Roode, Jesus fucking Christ, cunts. Okay, so let us just think about these two sad cunts for a minute."

"They showed up and literally everyone thought it was a joke."

"They have the WORST looking promos I have ever fucking seen. Make Drezdin's editing team look like Spielberg is running that shit."

"There promos are fucking trash anyway. What do we see? Miz, who is still rocking that fauxhawk, chilling in the void that is the WWE backstage area and talks to Bobby Roode, a cunt who we have never seen converse with, fucking ever, are all buddy-buddy and say 'let's go XWF' but oh no cunts, the story doesn't stop there."

"Paul. Fucking. Heyman."

"The cunt who is managing BROCK LESNAR, the cunt who is earning mondo bucks in the fed, has decided to look after The Miz, who joined XWF a while back and lost like a fucking bitch but doesn't acknowledge that shit anymore and is just doing 'meh' in WWE right now. Bobby Roode who after leaving NXT has been doing fucking nothing and going nowhere AND FUCKING MR. KENNEDY who got fired from WWE for sticking white powder up his nostrils and juicing more than the kool-aid man!"

"What."

"The."

"Fuck."

"Cunts?"

"Am I in a comedy show? Because it feels like a fucking skit. So, let's go through a hypothetical."

"Paul Heyman turns to Brock and says. 'Y'know cunt, even though you have made me richer beyond my wildest dreams, I'm really missing betting on a gamble and bankrupting myself like my ECW days. So, you're gonna have to do without me every so often while I manage three cunts, one of them I'm fairly certain doesn't even wrestle anymore, and we go to this magical place called the XWF and form a team called, get this, AWESOME GLORIOUS KENNEDY! Get it!? It's THINGS that they say!'"

"Money, cunt."

"Then I'm guessing Brock turned to Paul and snapped his own neck out of how fucking that all was."

Another siperinoo of VB.

"So, we got Miz, who keeps saying 'awesome' and grating on everyone's nerves and just kept losing his first go-around here before shooting himself in the head only to reanimate as a worse version of himself coming back and not learning a fucking thing. The highlight of his career was losing to that sad cunt Gator after Miz embarrassed himself by calling Gator a fraud based on no facts and pissing in the wind. He may have won a match in his return but I fucking guarantee not a single cunt remembers who it was against. I'm not even sure if he has won but it's on the wiki so fuck me I guess. The cunt is just one of the lamest, saddest and shittest wrestlers I have ever had the misfortune to see in my life and I'm not talking about WWE because honestly who gives a fuck? WWE is going down the ratings like the graph is a fucking slip n' slide."

"The fucking Miz, it's a shit name too, cunts. How much of a dumb fuck must you have to be to think, you know what suits me, half my last name prefaced with 'The'. Well, cunt, The Jack has some sound advice for you."

"Stop."

"You're a fucking embarrassment to everyone who witnesses you. Everywhere you go you bring a stench of disappointment and failure. You had some decent promos in WWE but now you seem like an empty fucking husk, just shouting off catchphrases and things you think The Miz would say. You're like a fucking body snatcher, cunt who hasn't worked out how to function properly. I am not lying when I say you are the worst thing to happen to the XWF. Give me Rain, give me Snow, give me Boston Bruiser, Darren Dangerous or fucking Reno. They were all cancerous, toxic and annoying pieces of shit but at least they had a semblance of personality. You're a fucking tumour with a mask on. You are shit, cunt. No fuck that, at least can be used in creative ways like being poured on Lacklan. You are less than shit."

"You are flies on shit."

"You spread that shit everywhere you go and just make people sick."

"You shit fucking cunt."

"Fuck yourself."

"And to Roode?"

"Listen back to everything I said and replace Miz's name with your own because you're the exact fucking same."

"How, in the fucking world, could you ever match up to me and Fuzz? Two people who were forced to lose due to management, coming out of Leap of Faith pissed off and seeing the worst cunts in the world in the same ring as them. You don't stand a fucking chance. The Hardest Worker in the XWF and The Greatest Legend in the XWF are going to make you wish, that Paul E. never had that brain aneurysm that scrambled his head and thought bringing you sad cunts here was a good idea."

"We are Sick Cunts, you are shit cunts."

"Fuck, could have started and ended with that and saved my breath."

::The scene fades to black as the camera cuts out::

---

::Another camera to the side turns on as XWF cameramen are sneaky cunts. Noah sits waiting in the chair::

"Can someone please help me up, my legs aren't working."

Two of my generic cunt entourage lift me to my feet.

GENERIC CUNT #1: "Great promo, Noah!

"Cheers."

I say with an ached groan.

GENERIC CUNT #2: "You are the king, Noah!"

"Yes cunt, I know. Do you say anything else?"

The cunt just smiles at me as I wrap my arms around them both for support. They hobble me over to my agent as a makeup artist removes the shit from my face, revealing my gashes from Sunday.

"Noah, that was perfect, pretty sure everyone will believe you about the Leap of Faith match and hopefully we won't drop in fans."

"Of course they will, cunt because it's all true."

I shoot her a look.

"... Yes, Noah. Of course, Noah. Now, we're going to be shooting a new commercial for your cereal-"

"Sugarfoods, cunt."

"Right, sugarfoods, in a couple of weeks but we'll wait until you're healed up."

"We'll save it for Anarchy, they love that repetitive bullshit over there. CAN SOMEONE GET ME SOME FUCKING MORPHINE!?"

Some cunt intern runs off, hopefully, to fetch me my drugs. My boys help me walk with the agent over to my lounge area.

"So, you have the tag team match at Savage, of course. We still don't know what is the plan for Anarchy, I'll try to reach Lane when we can. You have a fan meet and greet scheduled for Saturday."

"Cancel that shit, right off."

"Done! And we have that movie studio rented for you, ready when you're available."

"Gnarly, gonna have fun with that. You managed to get ahold of Dad?"

"Fuzz? No, still nothing from him"

"Fuck, hope he's okay."

The agent smiles sweetly for a moment.

"Can't win Tag Titles without the sick cunt, won't let me do it on my own, trust me, I asked."

Her smile disappears, no idea why.

"We'll keep trying."

"Right on."

We get to my lounge and the boys set me upon my off-white couch, draped in a lion skin, real lion, fuck PETA. I rest upon it as one of my other boys hands me a cup of coffee. The agent sits on a chair beside me as I flip on the telly.

"Where the fuck is my morphine!?"

The intern rushes over with a bottle of pills and I empty the cunt into my mouth. Aw, sweet release.

"You also have a few voicemails from someone called Alex?"

"I'll get back to him when I can be arsed."

"And Mr. Lane asked if you could attend something called... Ponycon?"

I look at the cunt with dead eyes.

"You are taking the fucking piss, yeah?"

"No, he was very adamant about it."

I rub my eyes and drag my hands down my face.

"FUCK ME! Have you got my team of evil jew lawyers working on a way out of this fucking contract?"

"First, they said if you call them that again they'll sue."

I sigh.

"Yeah, fair."

"Second, they're working on it but the contract is pretty airtight. You should have read it first, Noah."

"Listen, cunt, when someone offers you as many ones and zeroes as that cunt did, then you can act high and mighty."

She forces a smile and nods. My eyelids start to go heavy as I rest my eyes on the TV and I start to fade out. Fuck this morphine is ripper.

"Is that all?"

"For now, yes."

"Right on... I'm just gonna close my eyes for a minute."

"Of course."

My agent stands and she hushers my boys out.

"We'll let you be."

My eyes start to close as my body goes numb. Fuck me, what a shit day.

FORMER:



W | L | D
226 | 11 | 81

Star of the Month (August 2019)
1/3 Star of the Month (January 2020) with Fuzz and our Subaru
RP of the Month (November 2019) with Big Disappointment