Welcome to True Stories. Before I enlighten you idiots with my experiences, let’s make one thing clear. I speak the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth, and I've been helped by God. The same cannot be said by any of you Maniacs. I have never told a lie in my life. I am the truth, like the small forward of the Celtics. I am the truth, like Phil Davis’ training partner. I am the truth, like Trae from S.U.C. (RIP Robert Davis). In the words of Al Pacino in "Scarface" (which is based on my life by the way), "I always tell the truth…. even when I lie." And for this exact same reason, I will choose to plead the fifth if asked about my sexuality or penis length.
After the massacre, also known to some as UFC 155, I flew over to Brazil for a vacation with my insignificant other. At one point, she must have had value for a man as great as myself to be with her, but what little value she had left is surely non-existent by now. I courted her during the days where Vitor was considered a "young lion", and my appreciation of her reached rock bottom at the same time Vitor declared himself a "young dinosaur". She has, what I like to call, the "Anti-Medusa" effect, meaning what was once hard about you, can easily be softened by a quick glance at her. Of course, this effect is not unique to her and is shared by JDS wife as well.
The flight there was a hassle, to say the least, but there were moments I enjoyed. Coincidentally, these moments occurred during the same short periods of time that my girlfriends upper lip was in contact with its bottom counterpart.
Once we set foot in the Brazilian airport, we saw a vast array of shops and stores. Upon entering a ladies fashion store, a sudden rush of excitement hit my girlfriend. She jumped around all over the place, rapid movements, up down left right with no purpose, as if the spirit of Mike Easton possessed her. I immediately channeled my inner Assuncao and told her "I'm going to McDonald's, and you're coming. I'm
getting making the decisions, NOT YOU!" She mumbled and bitched under her breath instead of her usual yelling, which was a clear sign that her soul was slowly breaking away from Mike Easton’s grip. She quieted down after pulling out her smartphone. I took a quick look at her phone to confirm that she was indeed back on Facebook. The powers of Assuncao, indeed...
I entered the McDonalds and approached the cashier to place my order. The cashier had his back to me while I patiently waited to be served. You know what fucking bothers me? It’s the disrespectful bastards that work at fast food restaurants. Ok, I understand your job is minimum wage, and that you deal with arrogant customers all the time, but don’t fucking take it out on every single customer. YOU fucking applied for the job, they gave YOU the job, so YOU better do the fucking job. "Well it’s a shitty jooob, I wanna see yoouuu do it". No motherfucker. I, unlike you, actually worked hard during school and it paid off. With what, you ask? A better fucking job than yours, asshole. You have no one to blame but yourself.
"Umm, hello fucking jackass, you have customers," I said inaudibly, and understandably so, considering the 6’something frame of this monster. The man turned around to face me and my jaw immediately dropped in shock. There he was. Junior Do-fucking-Santos. A cashier at McDonald’s. In all his
bumps and bruises glory. "Junior! What the fuck happened on the 29th?!" I asked.
Junior smiled in typical Junior fashion. He responded, "Well Cayn Velasqwez had affactive gemplan. For shoor, I want to throw the ponsh but he go for mey leg and I do not want heem to get the takedown. My hends were low to defend the tekdown, and he throw the big ponshes at my feice."
"It didn’t seem like you prepared at all for a fight,"I told him, "What’d you think was happening on the 29th, a fucking Jersey Shore audition?"
"Haha, no, no, for shoor, I have a very gooood camp in Braseel. I trein for thees fight twice every day. I practice my Joojitsu and I am prepare to sobmit heem," he replied, "For shoor, I want to get the fight again and my fens want to see me knock heem out." Then, out of nowhere, he broke down in tears. As he was sobbing, he said, "But…but, I don’t… hev… affactive… gem..plan."
I was shocked to see the former baddest man on the planet be so fragile. "Junior, be a fucking man! Stop your crying!"
While he choked back his tears, he said "Why, why you guy do that? Why?"
Before I could respond, a voice boomed over me "Because you fought like a pussy….kid."
I turned around to see who it was. It was a 6’6, man with muscles, bulging out of his tanktop.
The mysterious man continued, "You kids don’t know the in’s and out’s of this sport like I do. Had he gone for a double leg on me, I would have spread my legs, shoved his head below my crotch, clasped my hands under his belly, and powerbombed that kid."
"For shoor, I don’t like to make a excuses, but I get a injury on my elbow," Junior explained, "I get a big cut there and lots of blood coming out."
I immediately responded, "Here we go again with those damned Brazilian excuses. That’s not a fucking excuse for not doing anything and fighting like a pussy. A bloody elbow, isn’t a fucking excuse to act like a pus….. oh wait, never mind."
At this point, the mysterious man pulled out a paper and pen and scribbled something down. He walked over to Junior and handed him the paper. The man said, "Give me a call before your next training camp and I’ll train you properly. If that Mexican kid ever tries to throw a looping over hand right at you again, I’ll show you how to properly duck it and clothesline him at the same time. Anyways kids, I’m going to hit the clubs and pick up some hotties. You children play safe now."
As he walked towards the exit, me and Junior took a look at the small piece of paper. Written on it was a number and a professional MMA record of 21-1. However, there was no name written on the piece of paper. As he was about to exit the McDonalds, I yelled at him, "HEY! You didn’t tell us your name."
He turned around slowly and replied, "You can call me…. Danago."