FORTY FUCKING MINUTES!?
AKA Canis Canem Edit

I head over to my laptop with a yawn and place down a tin of VB. Clearing my throat and nose before cracking open the can which shoots foam into the air.

“Right, let's get this shit out of the road so I can do something useful with my day.”

I throw a lazy finger down on the laptop and Myst’s promo begins to play, my eyes immediately grow large as I see the length of the video. I spit beer out of my mouth wasting precious VB and pause it.

“FORTY FUCKING MINUTES!? YOU TAKIN’ THE PISS, CUNT?”
OOC: 40 minutes was taken from WordCounter’s speaking time.

I wipe my mouth closing the laptop and begin to walk off.

“Fuck that, cunt not wasting my time with that shit.”

:: The camera stays on the empty chair and closed laptop, the can of Victoria Bitter slowly leaking onto the table, the froth building up at the top of the can from being slammed down. Noah is heard mumbling to himself. ::

“I should feel flattered that I deserved so much of her time but fuck me! Forty fucking minutes! Jesus fucking Christ! Who the actual fuck would waste their fuckin’ time with that shit? On Jenny fuckin’ Myst of all people! If she doesn’t eat a whole bag of SPT Kangaroo Fillets™ to kick it off then I ain’t watching that shi-”

:: The words from Noah’s mouth begin to trail off as the sound of a door is heard opening and slamming closed. A cat appears on screen and hops onto the chair and sniffs at the beer before pulling back it’s head and scrunching its adorable little nose. The cat looks to the window with wide eyes as the sound of an obnoxiously loud car peels out and speeds off. ::



:: Meanwhile, in Noah’s Nissan Skyline. Yes, he owns a Skyline because of Need For Speed and him being a manchild. ::

“FORTY FUCKIN’ MINUTES!!! HO-LEE SHIT!”

I begin to drive out on the road to do… Something, honestly anything fucking else when I spot a most gruesome of sights. The car comes to a screech as I roll down the window and shout out at one of my neighbours.

“CUNT! What you playing at!?”

THIS CUNT: “WHAT??”

“Fuck’s sake.” I turn down my music. “I said what are you doing, cunt?”

This cunt approaches my car some and leans in with a smile.

THIS CUNT: “What’s the problem El Presidente?”

“What did I tell you last watch meeting? Why the hell are your Halloween decorations STILL up?”

The cunt looks behind him to the spooky skeleton in a wheelchair on the porch.

THIS CUNT: “Noah, that’s my mother.”

“I don’t care what it is.” I point in his face. “Get it gone!”

I reach to drive off thinking the conversation is done but APPARENTLY it’s not!

THIS CUNT: “I can’t just get rid of her! She’s not all there anymore, I’m worried any home would send her to an asylum instead, you can’t trust them!”

“Wait, shut up.” With a raised finger I stare into the middle distance, the cogs in my sick cunt brain start churning. “An insane asylum… Of course!” I turn back to the cunt. “Cheers, cunt! You just gave me an idea.”

The cunt appears confused as I put the car in drive

“And just put a sheet over her or something, cunt gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

I spin out and speed down the road out of the suburbs.



I arrive at a sanatorium… SEE HOW EASY THAT IS!? No need to waste time you shit cunts! And I head to the front desk. Despite what I would have assumed, the place isn’t comically “evil” which, not gonna lie, little disappointed!

"G'day cunt I-"

She cuts me off looking offended for some reason.

RECEPTION CUNT: "What did you just call me!?"

I look at her confused before it clicks.

"Oh my bad, I'm Australian ya see."

Her tone changes as she nods.

RECEPTION CUNT: "Oh I'm so sorry to hear that." The fuck? "How can we help you today, sir?"

"Just wondering if I could have a look around, take a peek at the loonies?"

RECEPTION CUNT: "Okay!" She gives a smile and takes out a form, placing it on the desk. "We just need you to fill this visitor's form out and we need at least two different forms of identification so we can run a background check just to be safe."

I pick up the form thumbing through the ten pages... Ten pages seems like a lot doesn't it? Like too many!

RECEPTION CUNT: "Then we can arrange a supervised visit for you in the next week or so."

I cock an eyebrow at her and put down the form.

"A week or so!?" I scoff! "You may not have noticed but I'm a very well-liked wrestler in a niche company and therefore demand special treatment."

She gives a sideways smile and shakes her head.

RECEPTION CUNT: "I'm sorry, sir, but it's just procedure."

I let out a groan while tilting back my head when a soft voice pierces the air.

"Don't worry, Janice, I will take it from here."

I roll my neck to this new cunt who appeared sporting an eye patch and doctor's coat and suddenly this place does feel spookier which is pretty sick not gonna lie. He shoots me a smile and holds open a door throwing his palm to it.

"This way, my friend.

What a nice guy! I shoot a wink at "Janice" and enter through the door as me and the doctor walk down a long corridor of doors.

"Pleasure to have you visit, Mr. Jackson."

"Right on, you expecting me or something?"

He chuckles.

"Oh for some time now." Well that's fuckin' ominous. "Thankfully, the powers that be knew you'd end up here sooner or later and chose little old me to guide you."

I nod.

"... Sick."

The doctor pushes open a double door at the end of the corridor and walks me past several patients in the communal area. Just doin' their thing, watching TV, playing with some brain-stimulating toys, painting, normal shit. Not acting like a delusional cunt is basically what I'm gettin' at. The doctor smiles and nods to one of 'em as he ushers me into a side door.

"Poor things, mostly brain injuries. Happens often in your line of work, right, Noah?"

"Eh... Yeah, guess it does, cunt. Think I'm in a match with one of those cunts right now to be honest."

As we enter another corridor, one longer than before he almost growls as I say that.

"Not making light of the mentally ill are we now?"

"Who me? Nah, never. Just an attention whore, cunt, no need to threat."

"Illness can form in a lot of ways. Bipolar disorder for example can make the kindest soul thrash out uncontrollably like their emotional scales are being tipped by some unseen force. Depression, anxiety, and all sorts of cognitive disorders can all be expressed in manners of ways. Some bottle it in, some let it out. You ever stop and think that this person is just trying to express themselves in their own way?"

"Nope."

The doctor chuckles briefly.

"I have someone I'd like for you to meet. I doubt they will change your mind, perhaps reinforce it but it'll be a fun meeting."

The doctor pushes open another door and we enter into a dim room of glass cells. As he walks me by strangers giggling to themselves he cocks his head to me.

"These poor souls lost their minds due to a variety of reasons that all stemmed from one source. Fighting Jenny Myst!"

"... Wait what?"

He laughs.

"I kid of course. That would have been quite hilarious though. No, these are just Jenny Myst fans."

"Ah yeah, makes sense why'd they hang out here... Hey, cunt, this seem way too convenient to you though?"

He chuckles to himself again a few feet in front of me.

"It truly does, doesn't it?" He looks back at me with his good eye and smirks. "Almost otherwordly."

He turns and walks a few steps to the side, ushering me to a cell where I interrupt a middle-aged man kissing a Jenny Myst poster. We stand there a few seconds watching... This? Before the doctor clears his throat and the cunt inside jolts back, retreating to his bed and clutching his Jenny Myst body pillow.

???: "Oh..." He says, the venom in his words being countered by his fat cheeks muffling his voice. "It's youuuuu~"

I blink for a beat and turn back to the doctor.

"What the fuck, cunt?"

"Noah, this is Nathaniel."

NATHANIEL: "Don't call me that! I am..." He raises a clawed hand over his face casting a shadow on his pimpled complexion. "Call me... DARKMYST!"

Me and the doctor stifle a laugh looking back at him. The smell of a cigar hits my nostrils as the doctor makes himself comfortable.

"How ya goin' "Darkmyst?""

DARKMYST: "Oh all the better for seeing you, Noah! My Queen says she will dismantle you in the ring and it is so nice to see you standing before me so I may tell her of the fear on your face!

"... Sick... You actually like the cunt then, yeah?"

DARKMYST: "Like? No, I LOVE her! She is the only one who can read my twisted mind and project what I'm feeling on screen!"

"The cunt consumes a pet shop and acts ratchet! She's a little edgelord who panders to some weird kids on the internet who find mental illness attractive!"

DARKMYST: "It is attractive!"

"No it's not, cunt! It's very toxic!"

DARKMYST: "Oh you are one to talk about toxicity and edginess when you are its ambassador!"

"Am I fuck you daft cunt. I wear heelies everywhere I go, I'm the least edgy person in every room! I say mean shit, yeah, but I don't tell people to copy me or that's even okay! I'm not a fuckin' role model! I hate kids and don't want them to copy me! Myst on the other hand tries to make what she does beneficial. Tries to brainwash, unwashed virgins into following her! She's by far the worst person I've ever met and I beat up Centurion once!"

Darkmyst lets out a single laugh and pushes up his thick glasses like an anime villian.

DARKMYST: "Spoken like the true antagonist! My Queen was correct, I bet you have never seen a pair of boobies in your life!"

"Have you?"

No comeback for that one from him.

"This is what I'm talking about! You talk like her and make yourself sound as stupid as her! Giving life advice or some shit from some cunt who hasn't touched grass in a decade and thinks wearing tutus is still acceptable for a woman in her mid-thirties! She's a fuckin' plague, cunt! I wanted to come here to prove to her that this isn't how mentally ill people act but instead YOU just proved her right! So fuckin' nice one for that."

DARKMYST: "I would do anything for m-"

I cut him off.

"My Queen yeah I get it, get fucked, cunt." I turn to the doc. "Cunt I came here for a learning experience not to reinforce some basic bitch's thoughts."

The doctor smiles, cigar smoke bellowing from him like he was on fire. He takes a step towards me.

"I'm terribly sorry you didn't get what you were looking for, Noah. Not all of us do. I just wanted to share what happens to poor souls who follow the wrong person in some cult-like scenario, have their heads clouded by demons; those who get injured in accidents..." He leans in a little patting me on the shoulder. "Getting hit by a car for example."

I meet his glance with a raised eyebrow.

"You what?"

"Nothing." He chuckles snuffing out his cigar on the wall before walking to a nearby door. "It's getting late and visiting hours are almost over, I'll see you out."

I look back to the cunt in the cell who is dry-humping his Myst body pillow before following the doctor through the door and back into reception. I look around and back to Janice, the sky through the windows turning darker as the sun gets lower. I turn around to speak to the doctor again but he's gone.

... Well that was fucked...

A bit confused I head out through the doors and back to my car.

...

The drive was long getting here but before I know it I'm back in the 'burbs. My neighbour waves me over standing on his porch next to some weird figure in a sheet; I pull over to stop to him.

THIS CUNT: "Howdy, neighbor! Just wanted to let you know some guy came by for you but I told him you wasn't home."

"Oh right... What he look like?"

THIS CUNT: "Tall, brown hair. Said something about a cat?"

Oh fucking great! That cunt! I sigh.

"Right-o. Nice one for letting us know."

THIS CUNT: "Anytime!"

He pats the roof of me car and I carry on driving back home.

:: We cut back to the chair we begin all this in. The cat sleeps soundly in the dark room, the setting sun sends dark orange hues through the window. The cats ears perk and it lifts its head hearing the sound of a car pulling up; the cat's eyes track the sound of a car door closing and keys jingling before the front door opens and closes as Noah plods into the scene stroking the cat before patting it off the chair to sit down with a groan. ::

I rub my eyes as Ned Kelly rubs against my shins before finding a comfy spot beside me, I take a sip of the opened VB and grimace at the lukewarm, flat beer but whatever, it’s fuel.

“No point puttin' off the inevitable, cunts. I’m just gonna watch this shit, get it over with and just go off the bat with it… Forty minutes, fuck my life! … Hopefully, with the power of editing this shit won’t be a lifetime long but I am gonna pause every time I have something to say so bare with me here, cunts, hopefully, I won’t have to pause too often.”

I hit play.

I hit pause and groan sinking into my chair and rubbing my palms down my face, my pained groan turning into a roar of pissy rage. I walk away from the laptop, head to the kitchen, grab a six-pack of beer and return.[/i]

“... Yeah, cunts, this is the type of shit we’re gonna get. Jokes about last names… Riveting, high-quality stuff. About as weak as going after graphics.”

I down the warm can of beer before cracking open a nice, cold one and nursing that with a satisfying sigh. Hitting play again as Jenny talks about graphics and calls me gay, like a homophobe… Oh shit! My bingo card! I pull it out to play along. Not gonna waste time talking about the use of shitty graphics but hopefully, post-production flashes an image on screen for me.




Jenny goes through her bag and assorts fruit for a stupid length of time, that disembodied voice calls her a hardcore legend which I will admit is a great joke, so well done on that. Until a narrator begins talking for her because the cunt is too scared to say it.

“You wanna talk about how I lost to people like Page and Main, two former Universal Champions and try and hurt me saying I eat the pin?”

“Yeah, cunt, I got pinned.”

“So fucking what? You’ve been pinned by far less talented people tens of times over! I fucked up, I let my dad down, it’s in the past I moved on, cunt. The old me would have screamed about how it was rigged but I’m more mature now! You say I lost the TV to Thunder Knuckles. Yeah, cunt, I did. I fucked up, did it bother me? Yeah, it stung. But losing to good ol’ TeeKay ain’t nothing bad, cunt was a solid TV Champ and half of one of the best Tag Champs to ever exist. You see, cunt, my loss history consists of people like those three, Ruby, Sarah Lacklan. Losing to those cunts isn’t a big deal, it’s the fuckin’ norm around here. If I lost to someone like, say Big D, yeah I’d be ashamed of myself but that never fuckin’ happened. Now, I’m not gonna pull a Mark Flynn and waste my time lookin’ at a jobber’s history to prove a point, truth is I don’t give enough of a shit about you to do that. But I bet all the money in my bank account you have lost more to shitter wrestlers. The only difference is, due to some unseen force, you possibly looked better in those matches somehow.”

“Maybe you’re fucking someone in production to cut out the brutal beatdowns and getting in your ear to run away like a cunt to get a more desirable (I guess?) count-out loss instead of eating a pin.”

“Weird that… Oh well.”

"But A-HA! You say, tenting your fingers like a shit cunt like I've fallen into your spider web. YOU lost to Kieran Overton, Noah! You shit cunt! You lost to that jabroni!"

"Yup! Fuckin' did, cunt and as you could tell in my promo against him I really, really tried! But I guess Kieran was just too much for me to handle. Sometimes you win some, sometimes you lose some in my experience it's all down to how much of a fuck you give and what you're willing to do for the product.”

"Oh. Fucking. Well."

“Yeah, Stone Cold Steve Austin… Great job finding the joke there, cunt. Nothing gets by you does it? Fuck me, at least I’ll admit who I’m “stealing” from. The difference is, I do it well, I make parodies and homages that people fuckin’ love. You steal and get mad when people call your shit on it.”

I continue watching this mind-numbingly boring ass promo where literally nothing happens, Jenny doing shit but refusing to actually say shit until some bullshit happens. Somebody recognises Jenny Myst!

“BULL-SHIT! That is a fuckin’ paid actor, no chance in fuckin’ hell would anyway tell Jenny Myst apart from any other cunt from a circus, or a crackhead. And where are we!? An anti-bullying convention?”

“...”

“WHAT!?”

“What the fuck is going on!? Why is this even here!? We have to sit through your shitty metaphors listening to losers talk about bullying which delivers to… Where, exactly?”

“You could have saved 20 minutes here and we would have arrived at the same conclusion.”

“Jenny tries to be mean to paid actors, makes herself look edgy, talks about cutting herself and nothing happens.”

“Every Jenny Myst promo where she isn’t staring at the camera and talking, nothing happens. She does nothing, contributes nothing, adds nothing and this is the soon-to-be former Xtreme Champion!?”

“Fuck me! You are so bad at this! No wonder you’ve managed to slide under the radar for so long; you just watch your opponent’s promos and slyly try to nudge them along without directly saying it because you’re a pussy. You-” I crack up slightly. “You have your narrator or whatever that disembodied voice is do more of the work for you! Why!?”

“Are you fucking scared or something you shit cunt?”

“I am fucking bewildered that this is your promo, that YOU are a fucking champ here.”

“I don’t have any clever lines for you, just straight facts, this promo.”

I look at the camera stabbing my finger into the screen.

“This is fucking garbage and this forty-minute waste of fucking time, this is your fucking peak! This is the best promo you’ve done in months and it’s fucking awful! It sucks! It is so fucking bad! You just waste time until you have to talk where you fumble the bag so fuckin’ hard you do more damage to yourself than you do to me!”

“You make a sarcastic remark to someone who says “I got the last word in”... CUNT WHAT DO YOU DO!?”

“FUCK ME! Have some self-awareness! My God!”

I shake my head moving on to my fourth beer, yeah I got through two that’s how long and boring this shit was. Nothing continues to happen, as usual, until…

I spit beer out of my mouth and begin to laugh uncontrollably. Holding my stomach as I crumple up in the seat and begin to walk off, howling like a banshee. I make laps around the room, wiping tears from my eyes and stopping to double over, almost in pain from laughing so hard.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

I stand at the back of the chair making struggling breaths, bent over it as I try and subdue my pained ribs still giggling, I look back at the screen and she is actually CUTTING A FUCKIN’ PROMO! I POINT AT THE CUNT!

“PFFFFFFFFFFFFFPPH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHH HAHAHAHAH ASHHAHA HAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAH AHAHAH HAHAHA!!!! YOU FUCKING SUCK!”

“No way you actually just fucking did that! No WAY anyone has ever said that! H-How can we possibly ever believe this shit!?”

I am cracking the fuck up still, like uncontrollable laughter. I sink behind the chair like I just took a fucking bullet. A minute goes by when I finally calm down, still giggling but manage to compose myself as I sit back down, tears in my eyes.

“Hahahaha! Why are you talkin’ about Dick Powers an all? What does he have to do with anything you shit cunt? Why are making a point about my wins and losses on TV before doubling back like a fuckin’ boomerang? Why the fuck are you callin’ me edgy?”

“Cunt, have you seen yourself? Little Ms. “The X Title looks better with some blood on it?” Queen of “I killed a cunt and I’ll do it again.” This cunt who wants to eat a hamster??? The cunt who wants to “peel my skin like a potato?” How am I the edgy one here you dumb fuck?”

“You call me a bully! When have I ever claimed to be a bully? I’m fuckin’ lovely, cunt! I called myself a solid talker which I am, clearly leagues above you! Yeah, I say cunt a lot, it’s a fuckin’ word! Who gives a shit? It’s the norm where I was raised, stop being so close-minded and xenophobic you toxic little shit.”

“It’s not some weird mind game! I just use it a lot!”

“Get over yourself ya worn-out clown pocket.”

“You’re not a threat! You’re a jobber with delusions of grandeur. You’re the most boring person in the fuckin’ world who tries to dress herself up like someone unique despite legions of teenage girls doin’ the same shit. You’re not an assault rifle, you’re a discontinued Nerf gun with a faulty mechanism that gave the handlers a black eye and a feeling of embarrassment from the other kids.”

“You say I’m childish and sophomoric when this entire dog’s ass of a promo has been you talking about school shit! You bring up a point to try and bury me only for you to fall further into the grave! I find it amazing that someone can constantly fuck up this badly and still be a semi-functional human being!”

“You say I lose all the time because I’m a “gimmick” when that is painfully clear that isn’t the case! I can’t believe you refuse to acknowledge my house show wins, cunt, I worked very hard on those! You say how me dad saved me in matches… Now, I know tag matches aren’t a thing for you because you’re a sad, lonely individual who is loathed and you lack any human connection but that’s kinda how tag matches work, cunt, you tend to help out the other guy. If you wanna check out my singles and do some actual work for once in your life you see what you said is fucked.”

"Have I shown up all the time on TV? Nah. Am I still the hardest worker this place has ever seen? Too right! Still miles better than this fuckhead whose career highlight was naming a team Meat Clowns. The fuck is a meat clown anyway?"

I google it.

"Oh... It's a shit, outdated meme... Well, at least it fits you."

“And in all this bullshit you have put out, you still think you’re better than me? You still don’t see yourself as the edgy little shit cunt? Those thousands of differences between us that I could spend hours on, me just digging a deeper hole for you to fall further and further down in but I’ll save time and focus on just the one.”

“The biggest difference between me and you Jenny, besides me being a good-looking, talented, well-liked wrestler with a real friend group. Is this right here.”



“Is that." I say with a pointed finger asserting dominace. "That right fucking there, you dog food-eating shit cunt. A person who you’re rimming in the hopes of your tongue hitting the shit they took on Kido in some desperate attempt to taste success for once in your miserable little life just admitted they respect me. That very same person, who you want to so desperately be seen equal to, be seen as a friend to, put me further up her cute little bracket over you.”

“Man, if I was you this would be reason enough to start cutting again, cunt. Try vertical this time heard it works better.”

“By the way that’s not me being “edgy”, it’s me being practical.”

“So let me ask you a very serious question, Jen, out of all the people you’ve lost to, which are more people than me because that matters to you, out of ALL those people who have kicked your ass or made you go unconscious or made you run away from the ring for a ten count like a scared little bitch, who do you respect? The better question actually, who do you think respects you after you Mary-Sued them into oblivion?”

“Because that is what you really want, right, cunt? You want to be liked, you’re crying for that Star of the Month after FIVE long years. You want, no you NEED people to like you because you’re the textbook definition of a starved attention whore. No matter how many times you call yourself a queen, no one thinks you are. No matter how good you look in a match, nobody gives a shit. No matter how many times you turn on WWE with your little notebook which probably says some cringe shit like “I got these scars from a paper cut RAWR XD” and you stare at a certain other, cooky, zany, ell oh ell so random, try-hard “superstar” and you’re writing everything down saying “I’m gonna do this but make it rated R because I’m a little, talentless edgy cunt” it will never improve you. No matter how many times you do any of that shit, you will never, let me say this slow so it sticks in the empty space between your ears.”

“You.”

“Will.”

“Never.”

“Be.”

“Liked.”

“One more time for the cunts in the back!”

“You” *clap* “Will” *clap* “Nev-" *clap* "-er” *clap* “Be” *clap* “Liked.”

I clap to the tune of “shave and a haircut” for a bit of pizazz, what can I say cunt, I’m a showman.

“Or respected, or remembered even. Despite you being a-” I crack up uncontrollably. “A ””””””””””””Hardcore Legend”””””””””””” an all. Fuck me that shit was hilarious.” I wipe a tear out of my eye with a final giggle and sigh. “Cunt has one decent punch-up in a parking lot and calls herself a fuckin’ legend hahaha! Cunt, if that’s true I’m fuckin’ God-Tier! One fight in a parking lot! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Fucking hell! You proper seem like the type of cunt who says “I love you” after losing your virginity. Shame we’ll never know.”

“You are not the bully, you are and forever will be the victim.”

“You will bitch and cry and you will lose.”

“I am going to go into our match, rolling down the ramp on me heelies, pick up a chair and smack you with it until I’m bored and then I’m going to pin you and simply win…”

“That’s it, that’s all your worth. If I’m feeling charitable I’ll let you get your shit in too so you can still look good in a match despite the level of your work leading to it but hey, what can I say, I’m just a good guy.”

“Oh and almost forgot.”



“Cheers for the bingo you waste of chromosomes.”

I start to get up to leave, digging into my pocket and putting on a baby voice.

“Oh you’re such a good girl!”

I toss a dog biscuit at the camera before this shit ends.

---

:: At XWF HQ, a mindless drone walks to his cubicle and sits down. Placing down his coffee, he turns on his computer and assorts through files and reading his assignment. His head dropped as he read the name "Noah Jackson." Him not being on XWF TV was his dream, no sitting through cunt-filled promos, no poorly made images that Noah insisted on adding in, no budgetary nightmares involving Die Hard parodies. Life was finally simple for him, but Noah has to ruin that. ::

:: Navigating his desktop he opens his emails and sees a "clever" title from Noah. Clicking it open; his face drops as he sees the length of the video. ::

"THIRTY FUCKING MINUTES!?"

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