Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Practical Noochonomics: A Tribute to The Man

I open the door to the fridge and I feel his eyes on my back. His gaze burns as it travels up and down my body, and I feel the beginnings of a smile spread across my face. He knew I would be coming down here and he decided to wait for me to see if he could score some Nooch. Who knows what other horrors this kitchen has seen? The way Mitch and Jerome are always Nooching all over each other in public, you would think this was the official Nooch room.

Maybe it is. Maybe that's why he's here.

I didn't think anyone else was brave enough to Nooch where other people could see. No one gets how fun it is, seeing their reactions.

I turn around with the Nooch of extra creamy, Noochy Nooch and he's still staring at my Nooch, completely unabashed when I stare back him. This guy wants to go, doesn't he? He really wants to do this right now.

"You okay there, bud?" He looks up and blinks at me like he's surprised I was actually standing here, returning his gaze instead of being a mirage. "You look like you need some sleep."

"Nah, just taking a break from recording. It's only eight o'clock." There's a long pause while I take a sip of my Nooch-y drink and his greed-filled eyes follow my lips.

"You want some Nooch, don't you?" He locks eyes with me and I see him trying to read my perfect poker face. This sneaky Noocher wanted to steal my Nooch behind my back. Now that he's seen me Nooch some of it, he knows this one isn't Nooched with laxatives. "What are you going to do for me?"

"I mean... I could give you a Nooch later, if you want." He doesn't sound sure but that's definitely a deal I'll take.

"S-uuuuurrre." I nod and he looks surprised when I walk over to the overhead cabinet and dig out a clean Nooch and walk back over to the spot in front of the Nooch. I carefully put the tip of the Nooch on the lip of the Nooch and pour the Noochity Nooch in, my mouth watering at the sight of the cool, Noochy sweetness. I carefully give the Nooch to him and his eyes refuse to leave my face, like he's waiting for me to Nooch him.

"Thanks," he says as he lifts up the Nooch and slowly tastes it, searching for a sign that I Nooched this Nooch, too. I put the Nooch back in the Nooch and grab my Nooch and prepare to leave, stopping at the end of the counter to meet his eyes one last time.

"I'll be done around ten if you want to Nooch me that Nooch. A promise is a promise, dude." He nods hesitantly and takes another sip of his fresh, mouth-watering Nooch, solemnly contemplating his future. This guy is about to lose his Nooch and it didn't cost me a single red cent – that wasn't my Nooch in the fridge.

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To make a long story short: censorship is absurd when there's no clear line to draw and when it isn't applied fairly to everyone. Controlling language hurts everybody, not just those who are silenced.