The hunter becomes the hunted
Jan 30, 2021 15:08:26 GMT -5
James Nightingale and Stuart Slane like this
Post by Spencer Adams on Jan 30, 2021 15:08:26 GMT -5
You know, in a way, I can almost sort of appreciate the bull-headed way you have about you. You see Spencer Adams, you attack Spencer Adams. You repeat that process over and over again and expect the desired result, because in your head, there’s nobody tougher than you. You attack me and I get back up while you demonstrate the definition of insanity. You don’t just see yourself as hardcore champion, you see yourself as the representation of hardcore in AW all by yourself.
The way I see it, you’re caught in a loop where you continue to fail in the goal you pursue. The match hasn’t even happened yet and you’re already over here striking out. I’m still standing and if you want to talk about what the fuck hardcore means, it’s that right there. It excites me to be able to look you in the eyes after actions that I know would take out almost anybody else and say “Thank you, sir. May I have another?” I am here spamming the DJ Khaled button as I watch you trying to explain to me how a Keto diet and finally being able to work more than three minutes a night makes you a success story.
Congratu-fucking-lations, you five-head brute. You can brag about clearing the lowest of hurdles that qualifies anyone to fill a roster spot here if you want, but are you prepared to run it for twenty or thirty or an hour if things were to get to that point? I’m not saying they will, because that’s not part of the Matty Mintz workout plan, but I’m more than capable of going as long as need be, something I can promise you is going to cost you everything. As long as you choose to measure yourself by the smallest of positive takeaways, you will become the former.
Go on and boast over shit like that while you act like beating Deruty in 2018 doesn’t carry weight in the current. I love watching your type fail the knowledge check, big ol’ swing and a miss there, Mintz. Sure, Deruty is underwhelming and Roy Speede drifted off into pseudo-retirement after year one, but I was never meant to be there and I sure as shit wasn’t the pick to main event the first Evolution, but I did. They were agreeable and inoffensive and I wasn’t and beating the two of them broke their hold on the upper card and paved the way for others to feel like they have a shot at doing the same. That’s why it’s been such a shame to watch your career play out. Spencer Adams really ran so that Matthias Mintzel could walk and that’s depressing.
You look at me as if my being the challenger means I don’t have a pot to piss in, as if I didn’t turn the tide in the blink of an eye. You’re bigger and I’m better, you’re the true prey and I’m the true predator. I have nothing? I am EVERYTHING. I am the lifeblood of Action Wrestling and it’s one true constant and anything that you have is mine for taking. Yet again, we continue to differ from one another. Nobody writes my ending. Not #BeachKrew, not Kevin, no champion or challenger...but with you, I wield the pen and the pad and when we go to the White House, I’m bending you over the barrel and giving you the formal tour.
Days continue to pass and you stay shook with a brain like bread pudding where I stay living rent free. You’ve hardly noticed me since you’ve been here? Motherfucker, you sound higher than Jim Mud during pre-game. You legit JUST said you set your sights on taking me out, because of the words that came out of my mouth. Really, you should stop and think about the ones coming out of yours. Everytime you part your lips you validate me, my actions, and my status as the one tugging at your strings like a marionette.
I don’t take you seriously, because I know that I only need to take ending you seriously. I take stripping you of that belt of yours seriously. You’re the one who has only seen what he wants to, who looks at somebody who continues to rack up accolades in record time and tries to sell the world on them being washed up. You think I’ve done nothing about your attacks? I’ve survived, fought doctors, been told no, and still come out in D.C. to smack the skin off your back. If that isn’t a loud response to you, than you’re fucking deaf.
If I didn’t want this match under these conditions, I could’ve stayed home and let you beat up a barnyard animal at Revolution, but I care about this business and these fans enough to not subject them to watching a Jaice Wilds match. I like it better this way actually, because I know that you see it as your wheelhouse. I know what it will do to your mental to lose to me after saying I don’t even belong in the division. It’s not an easy economy to navigate right now and I’m sure your shrink is a nice enough guy who deserves a little bit of job insurance, yeah?
Mintz, you’re tripping over your own ass. Your clown shoes are untied. You’ve failed to straight talk this entire time and I’m willing to bet the next time you’re recorded speaking on my name, it’ll be another heaping helping of inconsistent mush. You can be picked apart easier than you care to admit and I’ve already begun the process, so please keep coming for me. I want your everything. Force me to jump and I’ll be leaping over your head every single time. Now, are you prepared to go quietly into the night or do I have to introduce you to the White House Hospital Wing?
The way I see it, you’re caught in a loop where you continue to fail in the goal you pursue. The match hasn’t even happened yet and you’re already over here striking out. I’m still standing and if you want to talk about what the fuck hardcore means, it’s that right there. It excites me to be able to look you in the eyes after actions that I know would take out almost anybody else and say “Thank you, sir. May I have another?” I am here spamming the DJ Khaled button as I watch you trying to explain to me how a Keto diet and finally being able to work more than three minutes a night makes you a success story.
Congratu-fucking-lations, you five-head brute. You can brag about clearing the lowest of hurdles that qualifies anyone to fill a roster spot here if you want, but are you prepared to run it for twenty or thirty or an hour if things were to get to that point? I’m not saying they will, because that’s not part of the Matty Mintz workout plan, but I’m more than capable of going as long as need be, something I can promise you is going to cost you everything. As long as you choose to measure yourself by the smallest of positive takeaways, you will become the former.
Go on and boast over shit like that while you act like beating Deruty in 2018 doesn’t carry weight in the current. I love watching your type fail the knowledge check, big ol’ swing and a miss there, Mintz. Sure, Deruty is underwhelming and Roy Speede drifted off into pseudo-retirement after year one, but I was never meant to be there and I sure as shit wasn’t the pick to main event the first Evolution, but I did. They were agreeable and inoffensive and I wasn’t and beating the two of them broke their hold on the upper card and paved the way for others to feel like they have a shot at doing the same. That’s why it’s been such a shame to watch your career play out. Spencer Adams really ran so that Matthias Mintzel could walk and that’s depressing.
You look at me as if my being the challenger means I don’t have a pot to piss in, as if I didn’t turn the tide in the blink of an eye. You’re bigger and I’m better, you’re the true prey and I’m the true predator. I have nothing? I am EVERYTHING. I am the lifeblood of Action Wrestling and it’s one true constant and anything that you have is mine for taking. Yet again, we continue to differ from one another. Nobody writes my ending. Not #BeachKrew, not Kevin, no champion or challenger...but with you, I wield the pen and the pad and when we go to the White House, I’m bending you over the barrel and giving you the formal tour.
Days continue to pass and you stay shook with a brain like bread pudding where I stay living rent free. You’ve hardly noticed me since you’ve been here? Motherfucker, you sound higher than Jim Mud during pre-game. You legit JUST said you set your sights on taking me out, because of the words that came out of my mouth. Really, you should stop and think about the ones coming out of yours. Everytime you part your lips you validate me, my actions, and my status as the one tugging at your strings like a marionette.
I don’t take you seriously, because I know that I only need to take ending you seriously. I take stripping you of that belt of yours seriously. You’re the one who has only seen what he wants to, who looks at somebody who continues to rack up accolades in record time and tries to sell the world on them being washed up. You think I’ve done nothing about your attacks? I’ve survived, fought doctors, been told no, and still come out in D.C. to smack the skin off your back. If that isn’t a loud response to you, than you’re fucking deaf.
If I didn’t want this match under these conditions, I could’ve stayed home and let you beat up a barnyard animal at Revolution, but I care about this business and these fans enough to not subject them to watching a Jaice Wilds match. I like it better this way actually, because I know that you see it as your wheelhouse. I know what it will do to your mental to lose to me after saying I don’t even belong in the division. It’s not an easy economy to navigate right now and I’m sure your shrink is a nice enough guy who deserves a little bit of job insurance, yeah?
Mintz, you’re tripping over your own ass. Your clown shoes are untied. You’ve failed to straight talk this entire time and I’m willing to bet the next time you’re recorded speaking on my name, it’ll be another heaping helping of inconsistent mush. You can be picked apart easier than you care to admit and I’ve already begun the process, so please keep coming for me. I want your everything. Force me to jump and I’ll be leaping over your head every single time. Now, are you prepared to go quietly into the night or do I have to introduce you to the White House Hospital Wing?
Fucking wink.