What follows are a few guest stories from one of my on-again/off-again training partners named Billy.  Billy’s a HUGE guy, but he still has one of the fastest and most effective lead leg round kicks I’ve ever seen.  I’m not shitting you, he can use that thing head high like a jab.  His straight rear hand is likewise packed full of awesome, but it’s his kicking that I envy most.

Anyway, Billy’s got a LOT of ring experience, having fought in everything from TaeKwonDo tournaments to mixed martial arts matches.  He was also a bouncer for a long time, so he’s put the smack down on many a dumbass.

Ironically, he’s one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet, boasting an easy smile, an infectious laugh, and the willingness to teach others what he’s learned without ego.  Awesome human being!

Billy sent me an email a few months ago about our former training partner, (now turned professional NHB fighter), Spencer Fisher, and though I got drunk and forgot to post it at the time, I’m gonna use it as an opener for The Chronicles of Wild Bill Night Train:

*** Story 1 ***

From:               Billy Night Train billynighttrain@xxxxxx.com

Sent:                 Thursday, March 10, 2005 10:44 AM

To:                   MichaelDescado@hotmail.com

Subject:            (none)

Hey Mike, here’s my contribution to your little website.  It’s a word of mouth event involving former fellow student of [Super Asskicker] and current NHB middleweight champ, Spencer Fisher.  Of course, it’s been told and retold about a thousand times, but it keeps getting better, so, here goes…

One night Spencer was out with a few of his throwing dummies, (read: people he would torture for hours on the mat and then charge them money for lessons), and they decided to go to McDonald’s for a TaeKwonDo happy meal.  Several lumberjacks pulled into the parking lot at the same time, and one of them hurled a racial epitaph in the direction of Spencer’s brood. 

Being a junior woodchuck, (whatever the hell THAT means, Billy), Spencer reached inside his car and grabbed his ever-present mouthpiece, then approaching the lumberjacks to mumble, “mmmcommonmm”.  Actually, it was “COME ON!!!”, but that’s probably what it sounded like.

All three of the lumberjacks were taller than 6’2” and heavier than 225 lbs.  Nevertheless, Spencer raised his hands to full on-guard position and drilled the first guy that came into range.  Down but not out, the fallen lumberjack tried to rise, only to find himself subdued by Spencer’s throwing dummies, leaving Spencer himself to lay waste to the remaining two.  He made short work of them, at one point landing a full on lift kick to one of ‘em’s nuts- in effect, RUINING THAT GUY’S SHIT!!!

The lumberjacks, (after being severely beaten and robbed of the will to fight), fled in mass towards the nearby monster truck in which they’d arrived, (no kidding, it was a literal “monster” truck). 

Being the kind hearted guy that he was, Spencer allowed them to get in and crank the engine, undoubtedly thinking they would leave. 

They didn’t. 

In an almost unprecedented display of lumberjack nobility, they promptly drove their monster truck OVER Spencer’s car, thus crushing it into paper clips.

The police arrived and charged the lumberjacks with willful destruction of private property, to which they retaliated by filing a counter-suit against Spencer for assault and battery.

Months later, when the lumberjacks testified against Spencer, they told an amazing story of some kind of Tasmanian devil person that kicked all of their asses.  The presiding judge looked at the three enormous lumberjacks, and then at Spencer- all 5’8”, 175 pounds of him- and asked the obvious question:

“You gentlemen expect me to believe that THIS young man overpowered and brutally assaulted all three of you?!?”  To which one of the lumberjacks responded, “Well, he couldn’t have done it if he hadn’t kicked me in the gonutsez!”

The judge’s reply?  “CASE DISMISSED!!!”

Our hero lives on to fight again and again…

I have more stories to tell, but I’m currently at work, so I have porn to peruse.

Take care Mike,

-Billy

*** Story 2 ***  (This one isn’t that long, but it’s PRICELESS!!!  Check it out:)

From:               Billy Night Train billynighttrain@xxxxxx.com

Sent:                 Thursday, May 12, 2005 10:02 AM

To:                   MichaelDescado@hotmail.com

Subject:            Hopefully in a galaxy far, far, FAR away…

Mike,

I’m doing great, and I have another story for you.  I was fighting in Stecoah North Carolina at the time, (if you wanna get there, just follow the banjo music).  All of the fighters were in the locker room warming up, when an honest to god Indian Shaman came in.  Long flowing white hair, buckskin tunic- the whole nine yards.  He starts chanting and pulls out a small pouch, then zeroing in on a tall dark skinned fighter that had been spending HIS warm up time bragging about being in The Last of the Mohicans, and how much coke he’d snorted with Daniel Day Lewis.

Needless to say, the rest of us were watching closely.

The old man dips his fingers into the pouch and starts rubbing the dark skinned fighter with a creamy substance.  The chanting gets louder and louder until he turns towards the rest of us, switches to English and proclaims:

“Potion from ancestors to make tribal warrior fight strong and vanquish enemies… ESPECIALLY WHITE MEN!!!”

The rest of the competitors and I were all a little bit shaken, doubly so because the tall dark skinned fighter is now looking all grim faced and shit, like he’s about to go to war.

But, as the old man turns to walk away, he drops the pouch on the floor of the locker room.  And what should roll out?  A small tube of Ben Gay!!!

Man, I’m STILL laughing,

-Billy

After I read this, I was wondering how the Indian guy faired in the competition.  No sooner than I’d started to write this up, Billy called me on the phone.  The Indian got his ass whipped in the first match.

By the way, due to its “heating” properties, I’d imagine that Ben Gay is an eye irritant, (not unlike Neosporin). ß private joke.  As such, the Indian fighter might’ve been using a dirty boxing trick.  Once in the ring, (after the referee had checked his gloves), he probably intended to rub his gloves on his body, thus coating them with Ben Gay.  The first time he jabbed an opponent in the eye, BINGO!  Instant blindness.  Well, not that severe, but definitely a dishonorable tactic.

Potion from ancestors my aching ass!  I’m gonna mail that guy a blanket with smallpox on it…

*** Story 3 ***

From:               Billy Night Train billynighttrain@xxxxxx.com

Sent:                 Tuesday, May 17, 2005 10:42 AM

To:                   MichaelDescado@hotmail.com

Subject:            Punk’d by [Super Asskicker]…

One of my fondest memories of [Super Asskicker] was the first night I worked with him as a bouncer at the Asheville restaurant/bar, McGuffey’s.  (Mike’s note: I think that particular McGuffey’s went out of business, so don’t email me asking for the location.)

[Super Asskicker] spent the early part of the evening introducing me to all the regulars, and pointing out who to watch and what to watch for.  We had only one “issue” that night, but [Super Asskicker] decided I could handle it. 

He called me on the headset and said, “Hey Billy!  Go scan the parking lot.  There’s a white car out there parked next to a van, and I think something suspicious is going on.  It needs to be checked out.”

I immediately went outside to look for the offending vehicles, but I didn’t see anything until [Super Asskicker’s] voice crackled through the headset once more.

“Find it yet, Billy?”

“No,” I began, then stopping short as I saw the white car in question, “Hold up a second…”

Sure enough, there was a van right next to it, and I could see a writhing mass behind the wheel.  He/She/It seemed to be wearing an odd colored shirt, like a vast mix of flannel and flowers, and I thought to myself, “What’s so suspicious about that?”

Nevertheless, I walked over to the driver side window and tapped on the glass, causing a flurry of movement within.  It was only then that I realized there were TWO people in the car, and that the mix of floral and flannel was actually two separate shirts. 

The guy in the driver’s seat had been getting a blow job, and he fumbled to zip his pants before rolling down the window, (his female companion sitting up). 

Total loss for words…

I’ve never been a cop, nor had I ever bounced at that time, but I’d certainly parked with a girl and been interrupted, so I did what had been done to me the couple of times a third party came between me and oral pleasure.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.  Are you being forced to be here?”

Flashing a wry smile, she wiped her forearm across her mouth and muttered “No,” with as much feigned dignity as a woman in that situation could muster.

Maintaining composure, I asked the man the same question, to which he replied.

“Yes…  I’m being forced to be here…  HELP ME!!!”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Yeah, well, you guys need to move on.  Get a room or something.  You can’t do that kind of thing here.”

(Keep in mind, I had the radio headset on the whole time.)

They left, and- as I walked back across the parking lot- I kept asking myself, “Is THIS what I’m supposed to do?  Is THIS my job from now on, to break up amorous couples that couldn’t wait until they got home?!?”

As I neared the restaurant, I heard the muffled sounds of people trying their best NOT to crack up.  No sooner than I reached the threshold, [Super Asskicker] falls out of the front door laughing.  And it wasn’t just him.  No.  The ENTIRE BAR was laughing their asses off.

[Super Asskicker] is now staggering around red faced, unable to form coherent sentences on account of his (apparently) shared joke at my expense.

“Billy just…” * cough *  * gasp * “bounced…” * snort *  * wheeze * “a… BLOW JOB!!!  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”

As I said, the whole bar was pissing their pants, so there was no doubt that [Super Asskicker] had somehow orchestrated this.

The only question that remains, however, is, was the couple in on it too?  To this day, I still don’t know…

There are at least two more blow job stories from my bouncing days, but those will have to wait.

-Billy

*** Story 4 ***

From:               Billy Night Train billynighttrain@xxxxxx.com

Sent:                 Wednesday, May 18, 2005 1:53 PM

To:                   MichaelDescado@hotmail.com

Subject:            1 million dollar bj

Throughout my first bar bouncing gig, the owner of McGuffey’s was a guy named [Slobby McKnoberson] ß name changed by me to protect the innocent.  Slobby was running into trouble at the time on account of cocaine abuse and poor management.  He eventually sold controlling stock of McGuffey’s to a company called RSI Holdings, I think.

Regardless, Slobby stayed on as a regional manager, (or something), his services retained at a cost of $150,000 a year for nothing more than traveling from franchise to franchise to make sure each restaurant kept up their Health Department quality scores.

Included in his contract was a one million dollar buyout clause which stated that if RSI ever wanted to own 100% of McGuffey’s, they had to pay $1,000,000 to Slobby himself.  Ah, but this agreement also contained several addenda’s and caveats about morality and professional conduct.

Six months after selling the majority of his stock, Slobby found himself at one of the McGuffey’s chains under his jurisdiction flirting with a quote/unquote “Lipstick Lesbian”.  After many hours of liquor augmented persuasion, Slobby convinced said lesbian to get under the table and, well, slob his knob. 

Unfortunately, since this occurred during business hours, there were several witnesses to the sub-mahogany felatio, and Slobby was fired.  Bad enough, but since he was in direct violation of those “addenda’s and caveats about morality and professional conduct” that I mentioned earlier, he wasn’t eligible for the buyout.

Who’d a thought that a lipstick lesbian could give a million dollar blow job?

-Billy

***

Keep ‘em coming, my friend.  I LOVE that Ben Gay story, so you’ll have an audience as long as I have a website.