Post by Spencer Adams on Sept 11, 2022 11:28:02 GMT -5
Who doesn’t appreciate a good showcase? King Shit versus the Joey Bunga at home and “Mr. Future Endeavors” Ashton Thomas. This is not a tag team title MATCH, this is a formality. This is getting paid to grandpa Simpson on two men with no chemistry or reason to make you believe that they have a fighting chance in this one. Psycho Vindel and Ashton Thomas, two men essentially Dr. Heiter’d together by booking. For CJ Phoenix and Spencer Adams, this is what comfort feels like. This is as inevitable as a conclusion gets.
Makes sense though, right? First, you come together and form something special to uplift the tag team division and then the tag team division takes one look at the undefeated record and scorching hot ascent towards the top of it and nopes the fuck out so fast that you’d think it was a Bop It command. King Shit gets Ashton and PV, because that’s what we’ve created. That’s OUR doing. Revive shit, add prestige to the pair of belts, and promptly scare everyone away to the point that we’re out here Drew Leaguing motherfuckers.
By all means, keep on keepin’ on. Continue to let us pad our stats, to pay us to show up and bleed out two men who were ironically dead on arrival in this company anyways all while using ten percent of what we’re capable of and still dropping bodies and jaws in tandem. This goes beyond top guy shit, this is God mode shit at it’s finest and we talk a lot about who your tag partner is to you, but it’s worth a shout here, because it tells us the tale of two teams more than any other matchup we’ve had before it.
CJ and myself ventured into tag team wrestling, because of a love for tag team wrestling and an appreciation for each other. PV and Ashton were forced and if history tells us anything, it’s that Psycho Vindel doesn’t play well with others. In fact, it tells us that neither man plays well in the first place. King Shit are the insurmountable odds here. We are the reason that Ashton will seek dimmer lights and why Psycho Vindel will leave with ticketholders at the end of the night, walk out along the outside of the arena to the nearest overcrowded dive, and drink to forget.
This is not our first defense, this is our preseason before actual somebodies decide that they feel brave enough to come get this ass beating themselves. For that, PV and Thomas should feel honored. PV can tell unlistening ears his own warped version of these events, about how he was able to hang and Thomas can live on as a participant and make five hundred a night in the middle of nowhere off the fact that he can bill himself a former member of this roster. Even when the truth hurts, it heals and even when King Shit is unforgiving, we remain charitable.
Makes sense though, right? First, you come together and form something special to uplift the tag team division and then the tag team division takes one look at the undefeated record and scorching hot ascent towards the top of it and nopes the fuck out so fast that you’d think it was a Bop It command. King Shit gets Ashton and PV, because that’s what we’ve created. That’s OUR doing. Revive shit, add prestige to the pair of belts, and promptly scare everyone away to the point that we’re out here Drew Leaguing motherfuckers.
By all means, keep on keepin’ on. Continue to let us pad our stats, to pay us to show up and bleed out two men who were ironically dead on arrival in this company anyways all while using ten percent of what we’re capable of and still dropping bodies and jaws in tandem. This goes beyond top guy shit, this is God mode shit at it’s finest and we talk a lot about who your tag partner is to you, but it’s worth a shout here, because it tells us the tale of two teams more than any other matchup we’ve had before it.
CJ and myself ventured into tag team wrestling, because of a love for tag team wrestling and an appreciation for each other. PV and Ashton were forced and if history tells us anything, it’s that Psycho Vindel doesn’t play well with others. In fact, it tells us that neither man plays well in the first place. King Shit are the insurmountable odds here. We are the reason that Ashton will seek dimmer lights and why Psycho Vindel will leave with ticketholders at the end of the night, walk out along the outside of the arena to the nearest overcrowded dive, and drink to forget.
The city were in.
The match.
The beating.
All of it, filtered through the void of the brown bottle.
