Post by Spencer Adams on Oct 8, 2022 23:17:47 GMT -5
There’s two types of family.
The family you’re born with…
..and the family you forge.
Von.
Tuma.
The blood that runs through your veins may be shared, the plural version of a Midwest white kids name as a tag moniker may be shared. You two have the privilege of experiencing birthdays, Christmas, and random weekends together. It’s an on paper advantage that I haven’t completely overlooked or dismissed, but what you have in blood held..you lack in blood spilt. Simply put, your DNA can never and WILL never be on par with what has been shared in that ring between CJ Phoenix and Spencer Adams.
Word of mouth and bad advice mixed and told you that trying to make yourselves look bigger would win you your fair share of standoffs, that it would help you survive. CJ and I see through that shit. For weeks, it’s like we’ve been staring through translucent fucking nothingness. Absolutely no fucking guts between the two of you. Some folks keep six feet of social distance while you stare back at King Shit with six feet of Lexapro distance between the two of you and the two of us, because you’re fucking anxious.
Roman leads you and it leads you nowhere, because he’s been going nowhere for fourteen goddamn months. No idea where the Quiznos is, no clue where to find a quality win, and absolutely dyslexic when the world expects you lot to read the writing on the wall and tuck fucking tail. Yet, you have the nerve to come into OUR company and go down to OUR ring and try to claim the kingdom as your own? I take that personally. Unearned flowers you’ve given yourselves as you demand any form of recognition despite the undeniable stink on you? That offends me.
I WANT to endorse the future.
I WANT to step into every single match I have in this company feeling positive about whoever it is I’m standing opposite, but it’s people like you who just won’t let that happen. You posture as being that future, but you have the structural integrity of a house of cards. One fucking puff or baby tap from anybody who’s anybody in this company and you crumble to the ground having learned absolutely nothing and still denying the fact that you’re only cosplaying as the top guys you’ll never measure up to.
You attempting to climb up to us was stupidity. While you got to celebrate a win over The Painkillers, they’re the ones who walked away as winners in this situation. They got to avoid a second encounter with the best tag team walking this Earth and in doing so got to dodge the double tap that would’ve stained the canvas with brain matter. You should’ve let them do it, too. Swallowed your pride by laying on your backs and telling Roman “Maybe in another lifetime, Uce.” He would’ve been mad at first, but he would’ve gotten over it. He would’ve empathized with your coordinates of rock and hard place and moved right on along to the same wheel spinning that he always does, but no.
You chose to be dense and in doing so, you chose nasty fucking vertigo two rungs up the ladder courtesy of me and the family I FORGED. You will learn why we’re undefeated and if it takes three straight John Thomas Drivers to get the point across, we’ll make it four simply because we can. If we need to Weeb Trigger your skulls to paper plate thickness to insure that you never think about an “opportunity” like this again, we’ll do it. If you too have any final thoughts let it be gratitude for the fact that the men who saved the tag division saved YOU from the tag division.
