Cracking open a can beside a roaring fire, I sit on a leather couch in my New York apartment that I share with my good friend, teammate and fellow Ghost Puncher, Jackson Hart. Who is Jackson Hart you may ask? Doesn't matter, cunt, I'm here and I am the most important cunt in your miserable existence.

"As I take a sipperino of me VB, you may ask, who the fuck are you Noah Jackson? To those dumb cunts I ask who the fuck are you? Why are you so dense? Long story short, I'm the greatest thing to ever appear in your sad existence, I'm God, you're a prick. Fin."

"To the cunts who do know who I am and wonder why God left you, well then cunt, lemme explain myself."

I sit up a little, placing my elbows on my knees as I lean forward.

"So sick cunt in front of you here kicks ass for like a solid year and then I get injured and lose me gold, to be honest the ref should have stopped those matches but XWF is a piece of shit so whatever. Stay off injured, join GCWA meet some more sick cunts, create a team called Legacy of which I'm the leader, obviously, me and my new best mate Jax create a ghost hunting service, move to New York and now we live together... Me and Vita broke up... NOT THAT I CARE! I'm living the bachelor lifestyle and it's sick! Erm... I might have diabetes? I dunno, it might be a bit Jax made up to stop me eating all the sweets in the gaff. And now I'm here."

I take a swig and wait a few seconds before throwing my hands out.

"What? You cunts wanted a long visual trip down my boring time in the midst of a pandemic? Who the fuck do I look like? Mastermind? Fuck off, cunt. Here's what you all get, to see me sat on a couch having a grog. See, cunts, for the first time in a long time I'm thinking I might actually try."

"Shocker I know!"

"But I dunno, a crown is pretty sick and I'd be a fucking mondo king. So, how I'm gonna try this time around is I'm gonna do what I do best."

"Steal from other people and make it better. You know like what I did when I bitch slapped people like Lacklan and Ruby, took their stuff apparently and just improve every single aspect of it. I mean, it must have been sick if I did what they've been doing their entire careers just once and won with fucking ease! So, if I just keep doing this, then this tourney is fucking dusted! So, with The Storyteller, which by the fucking way cunt, shit fucking name. By fucking god, have some creativity! What happens when some poor cunt looks at the card and sees Mother Goose ready to read us James and the Giant Waste of Time... The fucking Storyteller! Fuck off kid! Anyway! I'm gonna do what this skid mark did and just make it fucking better. I actually managed to stay awake through this cunt's promos, maybe lockdown has made me more patient, I dunno, and this cunt is actually as boring as his name. Fitting!"

"This prick just sits in a void, making vague comments and nonsense bullshit then we time skip over to some other dull shit and then skip over to him talking about his opponents in the most infuriating way. You know no actual depth to his insults, nah cunt, just face value """jokes""" and I use that word very fucking loosely that every cunt has made before. All the while we get the screen stuck on still images of the people he's fighting LIKE WE DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE!"

"GEE! DOES THAT SOUND FUCKING FAMILIAR!?"



"FUCK ME MASTERCUNT! You found some other poor cunt to groom and make bad decisions for? Either that or Storyteller (FUCK I HATE THAT FUCKING NAME) is the biggest Mastermind fan he has to model himself after you, which we all know there is no such thing as a Mastermind fan! It's like a hot girl who isn't crazy or Shane 's penis. Pure fabrication! Instead, we now have some sad piece of shit insecure cunt who is following the same steps as a jobber of mythical proportions right into my path. The sickest cunt in the multiverse, the prince of push, pogchamp himself, Noah fucking Jackson. The same sick cunt who made Mastermind cry, true story by the way, he actually fucking cried and cunt by the time this promo is done you will be battered, bruised and crying. Like Mastermind or Shane 's ego."

"SO!"

I tank the rest of me VB and toss it behind me.

"Let the poorly cropped, low resolution still images in a video promo commence!"



"Fuck me, doesn't he look silly! What a silly young man he is." I shake my head with a chuckle. "Why if I looked that silly, well I wouldn't be a wrestler now would I?"

"..."

"Shit even I can't improve on this cunt's dog shit and I'm open to a lot of things but I refuse to resort to slam poetry or whatever the fuck that cunt did. I mean, I could just call him boring and bad at his job but that'd just get thrown in my face as being predictable as surely I'm dealing with the king of smack talk with such lines as..."


"John Black. A guy who likes to wear helmets to the ring" - The StroryTeller, in an actual promo against real opponents


"And all-time classics such as..."


"This guy hates dolphins. I mean come on. What kind of weirdo hates mamals or animals? Jim that's who." - The Storyteller, in the same fucking promo


"And..."


"You are no Clydesdale. The author of the Introduction of the Ultimate Horse Book is quoted as saying 'The essential joy of being with horses that it brings us in contact with the rare elements of grace, beauty, spirit, and fire. And Grace, beauty, spirit, and fire you are not." - ... Cunt what the fuck?


"And I am sure there will be many fucking more jewels like this to come, I'm kinda excited to see what you say about me! I need a laugh, cunt. Basically, anything I do or say is gonna be null and void because it's just what you're going to hear throughout your entire career and sex life, you're boring and you're not long-lasting. So, I could just keep piling on and on about how you're shit and not worth the time and blah blah blah, how your promos are identical to one old cunt and a stable of other shit cunts who may or may not be the Avengers? I dunno. Like, how the fuck do you think you're gonna last hear when you are the exact same as some of the worst cunts on the roster? Get a fucking grip, take a step back and re-evaluate your life. You're gonna lose this match like no matter what so don't make it worse on yourself, instead of ignoring me like you're going to do maybe instead listen to me."

"Try something vastly different or else nobody will give a fuck when I drop you on the mat and nae nae on your limp body."

"I refuse to ever lose to someone who thinks The Neverending Story is a sequel to the bible... That's a joke. Or is it? Hmm. And I refuse to lose to some fucking clone of some cunt I decimated in the past. So to do you a favour here cunt, and not rub dirt into your tired, wet eyes, I'm gonna teach YOU how to do the same thing over and over again, but make it different enough to the point it's entertaining."

"You're welcome."

---

---

We Star Wars wipe into a nice little cartoon jungle with some fucking monkey hanging about for some reason, hopefully it doesn't see me as a threat and tries to rip my face off.

"Buena tarde ya dog cunts, today we're out here to help a new friend of ours. You see, The Storyteller was practicing limericks on his own because he's too pussy to challenge for the Freestyle Championship and he seemed to has lost his talent all the way out here! Well, we want to be as helpful as we can be and like all good explorers we need to find his talent and make sure he gets it back before his big match!"

I pause cupping my hand around my ear.

"What did you say? You said he had no talent to begin with!? Well, that doesn't sound right, everyone has just a little talent! Take Ash Quinn for example, she managed to make it on just a little talent or what about Doctor Louis D'Ville? He ran out of talent a long time ago but luckily he has friends to give him talent to keep him going! C'mon guys, let's go find what Storyteller is missing."

I give an unnerving smile as nothing changes whatsoever.

"This seems like the right spot! Now let's have a look around and see if we can spot our new friend's talent! Now, it must be really small so we'll use our magnifying glass to spot it!"



"Hm, I can't seem to find The Storyteller's talent anywhere! Can YOU!?"

I pause for an uncomfortable length of time as I wait for you to answer. Yes, you cunt. I'll fucking wait, I know if you didn't answer me by the way. That's not a joke if you don't point at your monitor or phone or whatever and shout out where this cunt's talent is I will come to your house and shit in your mailbox. Fucking test me.

"Tres fucking bien! That's sick that! You managed to find The Stroyteller's talent! Now let's collect up what little he has so he can make a good promo with the help we've given him!"

As this is said, some fucking fox swoops down and steals all the talent!

"Oi Swiper stop being a cunt! Say it with me kids! Tell him stop it or you'll stomp him!"

I wait again... Once more, I'll fucking know cunts.


After you all LOUDLY point at the screen and SHOUT SWIPER STOP BEING A CUNT the foxy prick slinks away and I gather up all the talent I can find.

"Sick! We got the talent and it seems intact! Now, let's end this with a good lesson! If we're going to use visual aides to improve a promo in any way shape or form, we have to be sure to use them to their full capability or else we just have random pictures of cunts in there for no other reason than to make fun of their appearance which is by far the laziest form of trash talk that exists. Then again it's all the Shooting Star cunts interact so maybe it's worth something."

"Thanks for visiting guys, we'll see you all next time when I verbally club yet another baby seal."

"Spanish for goodbye!"

I wave a poorly animated wave until the scene fades to black.

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