I FELL DOWN TO EARTH



I sit in the lab chowing down on a burger, pretty ripper. Jean’s to my side with an icepack resting on his temple from that rock I hurled at his bitch ass. I put down my supper and look to the window; the sun is setting behind the treeline. I tap my fingers on the white granite table top and look to Jean.

“What, cunt?”

“There’s a high chance I have a concussion.”

“Well you deserved it for making such a piece of shit time machine.”

He lowers the ice pack and eyeballs me.

“That was the first time machine, to my knowledge, that has ever been created. It worked by some miracle and it was done in a single afternoon.”

…

“Still shit though.”

He chucks the ice pack at me, but guess what? Dodged, cunt. Too quick, too sick. I continue with my burger as Jean just stares a hole in my head. We sit in awkward silence for a while. Fuck me, he’s boring. Can’t believe this plan went to shit so quickly.

Was just meant to be a jump back in time, kill a baby and jump back to win the Hart title. The only downside would be having baby murder on my conscious but to be honest I’m pretty sure I could deal with that.

…

Dark.

Oh well.

Guess I’ll just have to do shit the old fashioned way and just try and beat Santos legit… Maybe I could sneak a gun into the ring? Just hold him hostage until I’m just awarded the Hart title. Nah, that’s a Uni title thing. Throw a chair at the cunt and just run off with it? Might make me a legit champion after a month or so, like squatters rights but with a belt. Could work. Can’t bribe the ref again, under investigation for that shit. Put rat poison in Santos’ food, nobody can work when they’re gagging for a shit.

“What did you do in the past?”

“Fucked spiders.”

I say with a mouthful of delicious burger.

“Hilarious. What did you do?”

I swallow and look at the morbid cunt.

“Talked some old lads into killing some emus”

Jean grabs his laptop and begins to type.

“Gave some cunt a SmartWater, that’ll probably bite us in the ass not gonna lie.”

Jean furrs his brow and chuckles slightly as he turns the screen to me.



Fuck me cunt.

“... That’s not all on me.”

“The Emu War was considered a failure. You lost a war against emus.”

Jean cracks up as I just stare blankly at the laptop.

“And you got hit with a rock cunt, look at that we both fucked up today.”

I push the laptop away and Jean goes back to it.

“I lost my pet cane toads too, that sucked.”

Jean pulls a face and looks at me.

“What cunt?”

He shows me the screen once more and shows me the growing infestation of cane toads raping Australia. My face falls and my body drops.

“Fucking hell, cunt. How can this shit get any worse? Right mate, we’ve got time. We’ll fire up the time go kart, which needs a name, stop Santos from being born and fix this Australia shit.”

“That may be difficult. I need extra materials to refill the machine’s core, I’d rather take breaks instead of using it constantly and overworking the kart and also, although your actions have made an impact on our timeline, there’s a chance that it may never happen again. So trying to reverse things, may prove fruitless.”

“Well we got plenty of time to figure shit out, what day is it? Like Thursday?”

“It’s Tuesday night, Noah.”

“Sick cunt, we got just over a week.”

“No, it’s the day before Warfare.”

“You are fucking shitting me!? What!? HOW!?”

“Time travel, man.”

“This is bollocks mate, this whole fucking thing has been a waste of fucking time. You’re telling me, I’ve got to fly to Samoa tomorrow morning!? We have a fucking time machine, cunt and I can’t use it to give myself an extra day! Fuck this bullshit!”

I put my head in my hands.

“I’m sorry, Noah.”

“Go eat a curb! What else could go wrong?”


Me and Jean look off to the side to see myself. Which is kinda fucked. Except this cunt’s a little more shredded and haggard looking and has some Kano looking eye. I’m honestly tired and just fucked in general so I just go back to my burger. Oh it’s me from the future, who gives a shit? In the XWF there’s a Nazi Werewolf, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna see weirder shit than this. Jean on the other hand is enamored, rising from his seat and approaching future me.

“This is amazing! What year are you from?”


Ah future me is still sick. He comes to take a seat across from me.


“Unless you’re giving me a title belt cunt, you can fuck off back to the future.”


I polish off my food.

“I’m listening.”

He smiles. Fuck I have a nice smile… Shit, am I gonna literally fuck myself? Is that allowed?




“I’m a fucking genius!”


“This is very confusing!”


But we don’t give any shits, we high five!


He clicks his fingers and points at me.


“Yeah?”


“Fucking sick cunt! Bet that’s not on wiki, Jean. You fucking cunt.”

“Hold up, old mate Santos? You did meat Tony Santos’ ancestor?”

“Fuck that, in the past cunt.”


“Cheers handsome, anyway, back to this twin magic plan.”


My smile disappears.

“Eh I’m not liking this plan so far.”


“Woah, what’s the FUTURE Tim Tam Slam?”

He leans in close and whispers.


He sits back all cocky like the fucking genius he is… We is. ARE. We are.

“I can see no way this plan will backfire.”

Future me laughs and takes a stubby from a robotic compartment in his thigh, sick! He passes me one and we clink the tins together and drink.

“How’d you get your voice so gnarly?”


Jean sneaks over.

“What’s the future like?”


“So there are rules involved in time travel? A set list made by some kind of government?”


“But we do become a champion, don’t we?”


“Sick!”

I take a drink with a massive grin on my face.


“Pfft, I have done cunt.”

“I made a powerpoint presentation on why Noah will win.”

“You did!? Fucking why?”

“Too-too help.”

“You’ve probably caused more damage! You fucking moron.”


“Fucking hell, Jean! You stupid cunt! Why don’t you just leave this to the professionals?”


“Gonna have to call Tony Santos more insults now, making more work for me, Jean. Jesus Christ, mate.”

Jean just sighs. I stand up and go outside to cut ANOTHER promo because Jean is a piece of shit, I give old me a nod and sip my stubby as I walk through the door. The sky has turned orange with the setting sun, I feel pretty calm for a moment before realising I’ve got like 8 hours before I need to catch a plane do some light cardio and wrestle… Fuck me. What a shit century. I sit down on the grass and look to the XWF cameraman that’s been hiding in a bush.

“Where you in the past too?”

He says nothing. They’re like silent ninjas these cunts. I squint at him.

“You where in the past.”

I look back out to the sky and drink.

“Santos mate, I gotta say I’m pretty disappointed. You seem as interested in wrestling as I do, which is pretty sad considering you’re the Hart Champion. I have an excuse for not wanting to do shit, I have my hols soon with the lads. We’re going Benidorm, gonna get wasted and piss off the police. It’ll be fun.”

“But you! You mate. You’re so distracted with irrelevant bullshit, the thought of a match might as well just be another one of your metaphors.”

“Just a thought.”

“I’ve never really struggled to take the piss out of someone before, but you’ve got me trying for the first time and the only reason why is because you’re an empty sack of bullshit floating through the company like a balloon, a constant reminder of disappointment. Like the leftover of a sad event. The singular balloon filled with nothing but hot air from Mastermind’s Xtreme title celebration which he was the only attendant, the balloon filled with Sarah Lacklan’s last breath before she sold her soul to a demon and was possessed with an evil spirit sent to torture us for our sins by annoying the fuck out of everybody. The balloon that dropped for the millionth time I said cunt.”

“The sad cunt who says nothing and does less, the sad cunt who doesn’t want to be champion, the sad cunt who is just looking for his next opportunity to bounce. Meanwhile the hardest worker in the XWF is sitting and begging for the sad cunt to do and say something of note so he can have a bit of fun before winning the title.”

My phone pings and I take it out my skinny jeans to take a look.

“Ha! Speak of the devil.”

I watch Tony Santos’ newest promo in its entirety but that gets cut because you know, that’d be boring. I look up again to the sky with an eyebrow raised and look back to the camera.

“Did I just win?”

“It feels like I just won.”

“I’m thirsty now though anyway.”

I take a swig from the slowly dwindling can.

“Santos mate, all things considered you’re a pretty decent cunt. Sad cunt, yes, but a decent one. We have a lot of things in common, we like to drink, have poor dental hygiene and like to have a laugh. Only difference is I don’t get tanked and proceed to make a tit out of myself but hey! I appreciate you doing so.”

“Huh, honestly I don’t know what to say. You trashed yourself and complimented me, gotta say it’s a difference experience to say the least. I could rehash how I said I’m the hardest worker going from show to show and now I’m gonna with the Hart Championship or I could say how sick I am, but we know this now. You know this now, so what’s the point?”

“I know I could walk into the ring with a nice cold beer and a pack of ciggies and get you to lie on your back for three seconds… Woah, flashbacks of me losing my virginity… But like Gilmour, I digress, cunt. I can step down from the mountain tops because I’m done singing atop it, I can slow my breath and take in the view. I can smile proudly with an Australian flag waving behind me as I know I’ve got the win on this one. So, cheers Tone, cheers for giving me the week off I wanted, cheers for the easy win and cheers for fully giving up cunt. It’s highly appreciated.”

I stand up feeling a but weird, it’s odd that someone just shutting up can make me just shut up. It’s a strange and weird feeling but fuck it, I’ll take it. I walk back inside the lab to see Jean badgering future me.

“Right cunts, I’m going for a nap, got a flight soon.”


“Yes you will, you handsome prick.”

I give a nod to future me and go to head in the back room, suddenly a burst of white light fills the room.

“Noah are you ready to leave?”

The robotic voice bellows. From the other side of the room stands a robot on treads, a brain in a jar attached to the top. It turns to Jean.

“By science, I miss muscles.”

Me and myself turn to Jean who stares at the robot, a bead of sweat running down his face before he falls off the chair and faints on the ground, cracking his head on the tiles. We all look at him.

“Well, that looks like another concussion.”

There’s a slight pause before the three of us share a laugh, freeze frame and cut.

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