Firestarter

Noah Jackson - Thursday Night Anarchy Promo - 09/02/2019 Said:"Honestly, can't wait to burn this fucking place to the ground one day."

"Care to explain this, Mr. Jackson?"

The cop questions me as she pushes the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling to shine in my eyes. Like a cunt. I sheild my beautiful blues and squint at the cunt.

"I say a lot of things cunt."

She slams her hands down on the table and rattles the cuffs locked around my wrists and a chain on the desk. Some cunt rubs his chin in the corner as the light whips back and forth.

COP CUNT #1: "Threatening to burn down a company ONE DAY AFTER Sarah Lacklan's home is engulfed in flames, the same Sarah Lacklan you lost a tag match too."

"I didn't know I was gonna lose, did I cunt. You fucking dense?"

She scoffs standing up straight and folds her arms, making it clear to open her blazer a little to show the gun attached to her holster.

COP CUNT #1: "You have had a very public rivalry against Ms Lacklan for some time now. You have reasonable cause and you most certainly seem unhinged. You're also the number one suspect in being this Hooded Man character that has been hounding Ms Lacklan and her loved ones for weeks."

I snicker.

"First off cunt, I don't even own a hoodie! Second, I was in a match with the cunt. How could I have started a fire? And thirdly, cunt. I have said everything I have wanted to say to Lacklan and MORE to her face! No fucking masks, none of that soap opera villain for dummies bullshit. No! I've been a sick cunt calling her out on her bullshit with nothing more than my own luscious lips!"

Silence for a moment.

COP CUNT #2: "... You don't own a hoodie?"

The second cop asks in a way lower and cooler voice than I imagined.

"Yes, cunt. I'm from 'Stralia ain't I? What cunt owns a fucking hoodie? A light bomber jacket, perhaps but thats more for style purposes."

I roll my shoulders and straighten my posture, like a top cunt. Posture is important, cunts, remember that. No one wants to be with some hunched over hobgoblin with lumbago.

COP CUNT #1: "You could have set a timer to cause the fire. It's as simple as a box of matches and the pilot light of a boiler going on at a certain time."

"Love, I can barely work my smart fridge at home. Do you really think I have the patience to sit through the anarchist's cookbook and figure that one out?"

COP CUNT #1: "Oh ho, so you know of the anarchist's cookbook?"

Look at that cunty smirk, fuck this cunt.

"I'm a millennial, cunt. We know everything you fucking boomer."

She slams her hands down on the table, spooking me right good.

COP CUNT #1: "I've had enough of your joke, you childish piece of shit! Start talking!"

I quirk my eyebrows. As the cunt in the back comes close and places a hand on her shoulder.

"I haven't stopped talking you fuckwit! I've told you everything I know, god's truth. Now, quit being a cunt and let me go back to slapping kids on Street Fighter!"

COP CUNT #2: "Sue, why don't you let me try."

She places a finger on the bridge of her nose and throws her arms out to the side, shaking her head as she goes to the corner of the room, chewing on her nails. The big black lad exhales as he adjusts his tie, taking a seat across from me with a groan.

COP CUNT #2: "Noah, can we get you something to drink? Make you a bit more comfortable."

He digs into his pocket.

"I'll take a VB if you're offering, cunt."

COP CUNT #2: "VB?"

He takes a small set of keys from his pocket and reaches over to the cuffs.

"Yeah, cunt, Victoria Bitter. It's ripper, mate."

COP CUNT #2: "Oh, well I'll have to try some."

He unlocks the cuffs which fall with a metallic clunk onto the table. I rub my wrists with a satisfied sigh.

COP CUNT #2: "But sadly, no alcohol allowed on the premises. Unless you wanna try some moonshine in the evidence locker which is half gasoline, half rubbing alcohol."

He gives a warm chuckle, I even crack a grin.

"I'd take a coffee."

COP CUNT #2: "Sure, sounds good." He turns on his chair. "Sue? Could you get us some coffee, please? Noah, sugar and cream?"

"Cream? I'll stick with milk, cunt and seven sugars, cheers."

They snap a look at me but say nothing. The chick shakes her head and leaves the room. Old mate faces his body to me.

COP CUNT #2: "So, Noah, we know you were at a match the night of the fire. It's a good alibi, but what about before the show?"

I stare at this cunt.

"Well, for starters cunt, Dallas fucking Texas."

He nods, not taking his eyes of his notepad.

"I get it cunt, the whole formality bullshit. I'd suspect me too! But burning down gaffs and trying to be an edgy cunt isn't my style. I say everything I want without hiding my face like a gigantic pussy and I sure as shit would have come up with a better name than The Hooded fucking Man."

COP CUNT #2: "Like what?"

He taps his pen on the notepad.

"Pfft, I dunno. The Man with No Name."

COP CUNT #2: "Great movie."

"Yeah it's ripper. Erm, what else. Hood! Just fucking Hood. Nice and simple... Mr. Mystery? Nah, that's shit. The Rival. Nemesis! The Puppet Master! Fuck anything is better than Hooded Cunt. You know comes up with dogshit names like that?"

The other cop enters the room with two coffees in paper cups. She struts over and places mine down with some force, cheeky cunt, then gently puts down one for her partner. She stands at the side of the table with her arms crossed. The other cop looks up at me.

COP CUNT #2: "Who, Noah?"

"Mastermind!"

They stare at me blankly for a moment.

COP CUNT #2: "I'll admit its not the most creative name but it's not much to go on."

COP CUNT #1: "Mastermind? Caring husband, father of two, wrestling veteran... Mastermind."

"Quit interrupting cunts. Listen, this cuck is the pettiest little hobgoblin I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. You say what you think and you might as well as took a shit on his front garden in his eyes. Lack-o, has a habit of verbal diarrhea, at some point I guarantee she said something to displease that cunt and in his mind, his fucking autism went into overdrive and he thought, yeah, I'll burn the cunts house down."

They slowly blink. Most likely from their minds being blown.

"Also the cunt wears a shit coat, which is basically a hoodie."

I lean back on my chair and tip up the front legs, all cool-like.

"You even saw that cunt got all bitchy of Warfare, yeah? He threw a tantrum after losing, grabbed the GM and demanded a match against someone who has so much shit on his plate already he might as well be at a fucking all you can eat. The cunts a childish psychopath. You know what he said at Warfare? He quoted me! He's fucking obsessive, the true mark of an arsonist. Nobody knows his real name, even his wife calls him 'M' which is cooked. He thinks he's some master planner even though he's clearly the dumbest mother fucker in the fed, so dumb to think of calling Bobbi London and Maxine, dumb and dumber like a fucking toddler. Shit he's so fucking idiotic he'll probably admit all this is true by accident in his next promo! Just watch cunts!"

Old mate sighs.

COP CUNT #2: "We have it on good authority that Mastermind wasn't even in the country at the time of the fire."

"And I wasn't in the same state! Maybe! I actually have no idea where Lack-o and Kenzi live. BUT! That's not the point! The point is that that cunt is inconsistent."

COP CUNT #1: "How so?"

"He can teleport at will with how that fat fuck bounces around. One minute he's the states, then back home in Shit Zealand, then BAM local historical site of the province he's competing in. He gets around more than Roxy Cotton. Also, you have to give me this. This cunt has stalker-like features for sure, not only does the fuck look like the crypt-keeper but he tries to copy whoever is rising at the time in XWF. He's trying to copy me with how he's starting to talk, the fuck wants to grow some teeth because he can't grow a backbone. He tries to get Lacklan's attention at every fucking corner, despite the shit cunt not realising how little of a fuck Lack-o gives about him. He strongarms his way into title matches and number one contender matches trying to rub elbows with the higher-ups even though the loser is so deep in the undercard they might as well change his name to pre-show."

"He's the living embodiment of an exasperated sigh."

"It's fucking infuriating to think he can get better or that he does belong because he's nothing but an inconsequential jobber with a pipe dream. His biggest claim to fame was that he held the TV title for a bit back when Savage was so low in ratings they were getting beat by reruns of Two and a Half Men at 3am when he had a mediocre match against one of the Blackwaters for the third time. Oh, but he was such a perfect TV champ."

"With his television wife."

"And his television kids."

"In his television house."

"All fucking fake just like that cunt. He's living in a fucking fantasy and I can't wait to punch the dumb cunt in the lip and wake him up so he can see just how shit his life truly is."

"I know the cunts gonna mention his title wins and question mine like a predictable little fucktard but honestly, fuck titles. XWF is rigged, I don't care about that shit anymore. Soldier showed how fucked this company was when he cashed in, he broke the fucking system and everyone dropped their shit and didn't know what to do."

"It's as if the fed itself gasped."

"Everything the cunts up top bet on was left in shambles and now none of them have any idea what to do. That cuck Atticus even gave BigD a TV title shot for wrecking the set!"

"The inmates run the asylum, cunts."

"And that lost puppy Mastermind is trying to follow suit, making a big stink to join in on the fun like a sheep."

"Fuck that cunt. He's a loser, a waste of fucking space and a fucking lunatic who wants to be a big name but can't using his own. So he adopts a shit moniker and goes after the Queen of the XWF."

"Then tell me that's-"

I get cut off by the chick.

COP CUNT #1: "Okay it was only polite to let you go on this long, you are not cutting a promo int the interrogation room!"

"Pfft."

I go back to sitting normal and fold my arms.

"Spoil sport."

COP CUNT #2: "Noah, do you think possibly you're exaggerating because you're in a match with Mastermind?"

"Cunt! I never exaggerate! Not once in my 22 years of living have I EVER exaggerated. MM's a cunt, God's truth."

Suddenly the doors to the room burst open and a single file line of my evil Jewish lawyers bust in.

EVIL JEW LAWYER #1: "Okay, this is over and done with. Noah you don't need to say another word."

"Oh I don't know, cunt. It's pretty hard for me to stay quiet for long periods of time. Or even short to be fair, unless I'm running a sick internal monlogue."

COP CUNT #1: "Oh my God, shut up!"

Zipped. Two of the lawyers stand at either side as one gets all lawyer-ey on cop cunt numero uno.

EVIL JEW LAWYER #1: "You wrongfully arrest my client, enter his home without a warrant and deny him a phone call."

COP CUNT #1: "He was deemed a serious threat by the DA."

EVIL JEW LAWYER #1: "I don't want to hear it! I want you and your partners badge numbers."He turns to me. "Noah, you may leave. I'll fill you in later."

I kinda tap my fingers on the table wondering if I should finish my promo but decide to leave some decent ideas for later, like a clever cunt.

"Right on."

I get to my feet and pass the two cunts eyeballing me, I leave the room and begin to walk down the hall to pick up my phone and shit.

Some time later.

I get out of the cop shop and the sky is a dull orange with the sun setting over the city. Fuck, how long was I in there. I take my phone from my pocket and begin to glide down the hill on my sick as fuck heelies. I power on the cunt and after a minute of this slow as fuck Android loading up! A few dings of missed calls come through from Alex. Ah shit, probably in the dog house. I give him a call.

Ring. Ring.

Ring. Ring.

Why the fuck am I thinking the word ring? Am I actually that autistic?

"You're a fucking cunt, mate!"

"Sorry, lad! I got taken in by cops didn't I!"

"Fucking hell, what for?"

"Thought I burned some cunts house down."

"Did you?"

"Fuck no cunt! You know I don't like fire ever since my cousin Harry got his face burned up trying to jump that bonfire we made."

"Oh yeah, haha what did we call him after that?"

"Butt-cunt! Cuz he got skin from his arse to cover the horrific burns!"

"Hahaha, yeah, that was gnarly."

"Why you been calling me, anyway cunt?"

"I've been waiting at the fucking airport for you come pick me up cunt."

"Shit sorry mate, I haven't even got me car, I'm heeling home."

"It's alright, got an uber but you owe me a bev cunt!"

"Yeah no wuckas. Be good see you again mate."

"Yeah you too, lad. I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"In a bit, cunt. Stay sick."

I shove my phone back into my pocket and glide down the decline with the majesty of an eagle. Fuck me, it's gonna take me about an hour to get home. This would be the perfect time for a lazy scene transition.


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I said this would be a perfect time for a LAZY SCENE TR-



Back at home, bit later on. Had a few tins with old mate Alex and he's gone in the guest room for a kip. I, obviously, am still up. I down a VB and toss it to the pile behind me with a burp.

"Right then you useless fucking waste of space."

"You fucking dog shit cunt thinking you could measure up to top cunt."

"If you even think about beating me you're fucking wrong, because you're a fucking joke and even worse YOU'RE FUCKING KIWI CUNT!"

"Second best to top country where I'm from!"

"On your shitty little island you fucking sheep fucker. Your dumb fuck country can't measure up to mine! Better cricket team! Better beer! Better fucking natives that we abused way better than your fucking own! Sorry aborigine cunts, no offence. You and your mentally handicapped cuntry!"

"YOU GOT A FUCKING KIWI FOR YOUR AIR FORCE LOGO!"

"The fuck is that!"

"A flightless fucking bird because you'll never reach the heights of Aussies you prick!"

"What the fuck have you actually got!?"

"Oh Lord of the Rings and fucking Kiwis!"

"WE INVENTED VEGEMITE!"

"FUCK YOU THOUGHT!?"

"And Tim Tams."

"Eat shit you-you you CUNT!"

"..."

"Fuck me, I'm plastered."

"..."

*hurp*

"... Ah fuck."

"Right, well! Since the only thing notable about you Mastercunt besides being the best damn enhancement talent the XWF has ever seen is that you make t-shirts! Well, cunt, since my gimmick is stealing other people's idea apparently. Allow me to prove just how much fucking better I am at your favourite hobby."

I almost fall out of my comfy chair and my hand drops to the ground, the sound of cans clattering echoes through the room. I retrieve a scrunched up t-shirt and unfold it to the camera.



I look to the front and roll my head.

"Fuck me! Wrong tee cunt! ... Still this shit is ripper!"

"For you uncultered swines, this is based on the old Vegemite logo! You too can rep the Vegemite of Wrestling and help PUSH NOAH! with style! Not available from the XWF store, the money-hungry cunts, but only available at Cunt Co. Yeah thats right, cunts! I'm an entru...Entra... ENTRAPAN-BUSINESSMAN!!! And business is good, cunts! Anyway fucking buy it if you find the website. I hid it! Because I'm smart and don't want hackers to find it!"

I bundle up the sick as fuck tee and yeet that cunt off camera. I fumble forward but hold my hands out and stay balanced in a moment of zen trying not to vom. After a few seconds, I lean down and grab the other tee, showing that bitch off.



I look to the front and try to focus my eyes. I smile and look back to the camera.

"Yeah this is the cunt! I know I'm showing it off early but c'mon cunts! The outcome is fucking predictable. These beauts here are made of 100% cotton stolen from New Zealand farms, just to rub salt in the wound a bit more. These aren't for sale but FREE when you showup to Savage to watch me kick seven shades of shit out of that dozy cunt in the trilby. Gonna get me one of them t-shirt cannon majigs! WATCH OUT MAUDE FLANDERS! I'LL FUCKING SNIPE YA, CUNT!"

I fall down to ground and squeeze out a laugh. Tears form in my eyes frim drunken joy.

"Fuck you Mastermind! Eat shit you lose hungry cunt!"

FORMER:



W | L | D
226 | 11 | 81

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