He’s at it again, folks!  My good buddy & sometimes training partner, Billy Night Train, has returned to my fair website to regale us with more tales of fighting, humor, and unbridled Karaoke.  So sit back, loosen your belts, and get the hand lotion ready…

 

Whoo Hooooooo!!!  The Night Train is leaving the station.  Next stop, Bonertown.

 

(By the way, the dates which accompany each story are the dates I received them from Billy via email… NOT the dates they actually happened.  I wanted to make that clear since you guys are dumbasses.)

 

***

 

Story 1: Tae Kwon Do Mama, September 9^th 2005

 

A lady came into the store today, and I was playing with my balls.  No, not like that!  I mean those exercise balls that make a “bell” sound when you roll ‘em around in your hand.

 

“Wow, those are great big balls!” she exclaimed.

 

“Yes, and they’re made of steel!” I replied.

 

We chat for a second, and then she tries to correct my technique for rolling the balls around in my hand.

 

“My son says that you’re not doing that right.”

 

“Oh, really?  And how does your son think I should play with my balls?”

 

“He says that the true effort is to roll them around, (against one another), without letting them make a sound.”

 

This lady was already starting to piss me off.

 

“Uh, huh,” I answered, “Well, the instructions- which are on the box- say that you should roll them around without letting them touch, (thus, no sound at all).  And once you can do that, you should try to do the same thing in the other direction.”

 

She frowned.

 

“Yeah, but, my son is a black belt, and he says that these balls sound at “C” 440, and that’s the same pitch to which your body is tuned… which is why the sound is so appealing.”

 

For those of you not in “the know”, my two favorite things in life are martial arts and music.  I studied music at Western Carolina University on scholarship, and a “C” note is not 440.  An “A” note is 440, which is 440 vibrations per second. 

 

That is the note any given orchestra tunes to, so now her level of bullshit, (or at least, that of her son), had just made the jump to lightspeed.

 

“What does your son have his black belt in?” I quizzed.

 

“Tae Kwon do,” she answered, and I lost it.

 

“Perfect!  Everybody knows that Tae Kwon Do black belts know how to PLAY WITH MY BALLS!!!  You’re an idiot, Lady!  And your son’s an idiot too!  He knows nothing about music, and less about martial arts.  Please let him teach you self defense so that when you’re attacked by gay midgets swinging wet noodles, they can beat the ever loving piss outta ya!  But never… EVER tell me, without my asking, how to play with my own balls!  Now, you can certainly LICK my balls, and then kiss the dark crack of my ASS!!!”

 

With that, I Thai kicked her in the genitals and carried her quivering body out of my store. 

 

“AND STAY OUT OF WOOLWORTH’S!!!” I added.

 

(Note from Mike: Billy was not charged for assault because the lady did indeed go into Woolworth’s, and was subsequently beaten to death by the security staff because they thought she was drunk… and a whore.)

 

The End.

 

***

 

Story 2: My Quickest Knockout, September 12^th, 2005

 

A few years back, I fought in the Asheville Toughman- eventually making it to the quarter finals where I lost to a 6’10” beast who called himself, “The Big Kahuna”.  Though it was technically a loss, the bout went to decision, and I consider it my best boxing match. 

 

At this tournament, I also had my quickest knockout, (15 seconds… the fastest that year… and those 15 seconds included a standing 8 count from the referee!).  Said knockout led to an interesting encounter, and that’s the story I wanted to tell here.

 

Okay, so, I was introduced as “The Choirboy”, and when my cornerman heard the name I’d chosen, he looked at me as if I’d just shit in his coffee. 

 

The announcer went on to read my hobbies, which included, “Needlepoint, Quilting”… the announcer stopped at this point, turned his head away from the mike and asked, “What the hell?  Do I really have to read this crap?”  When I nodded to the affirmative, he finished with, “and cuddling with my pookie.”

 

If only Bruce Buffer could’ve been the one reading it... oh well.

 

My cornerman rolls his eyes and asks why I even entered this thing, “I mean, you could get hurt, Choirboy!”

 

Before you agree with him, let me explain.  I had heard an interesting story about Bruce Lee wearing a dress to get into fights.  When his students asked why he would do such a thing, Bruce gave two reasons: “First of all, to teach combat, I must know that everything I teach you will work.  Secondly, if you get beat by a man you consider an equal, you are fine.  But if you get beaten by a man you consider effeminate or gay, it will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

 

Sooooo, that was the inspiration for my nickname, (Who can possibly be more of a puss than a choir boy?), and my… um… hobbies.  It was also the inspiration for the purple sweatshirt I wore while singing the National Anthem at the start of the event.

 

Anyway, the announcer went on to introduce my opponent… The Killer… whose hobbies were, “drinking and women and fighting.”  Or was it, “drinking and fighting women?”  I can’t recall. 

 

My cornerman had envy in his eyes, like, ‘Why couldn’t THAT be my guy?!?’  He actually turned to me and whined, “His name is so much better than yours!”

 

I still think that was funny, even though “The Killer” was 5’10, 399lbs., and as wide as he was tall.

 

So the bell rang, the fight started, and Killer runs straight towards me to swing with this big, wide, sloppy punch.  Defense has never been my strong suite, but I managed to elude the punch by darting just out of range.  Immediately, I stepped straight back in and unleashed the second best rear hand I have ever thrown in my entire life. 

 

His head wobbled, and the ref broke it up to give a standing 8 count.  No sooner than the mandatory count was finished, Killer charged back in to swing all “ugly” for a second time.  I responded with the BEST rear hand I have ever thrown in my entire life.

 

Truthfully, I thought I was too far away to even land, but it nailed him flush on the chin.

 

Killer’s eyes rolled back into his head and he went down, causing the referee to immediately stop the fight.  Ten minutes later, the rescue squad was called into the ring.

 

I just knew the guy was going to die, but after a few more minutes, he got up and left the ring under his own power. 

 

This was the first night of the two night tournament, and after all the other matches were over, I walked out of the arena feeling good that I could now claim a genuine knockout.  I’d had a few TKO’s before, but not a real KO- not like that one.

 

Anyway, while looking for my car in the parking lot, who should I see?  That’s right, The Killer himself!  He glared at me and asked how I’d learned to punch so well.  Naturally, I told him that I’d been fighting for awhile, and had learned boxing from none other than [Super Asskicker]. 

 

He asked what my name was.  I told him.  Then he asked what my “nickname” was, and when I told him that, a strange expression fell over his face… the same expression my cornerman had given me earlier.

 

The Killer was a beaten man.  He had been unconscious a mere hour before… but he still knew the joke was on him.

 

“My truck is right over there,” he said icily, “I’m gonna go get something for ya.”

 

I must’ve looked a little puzzled, because when I cocked my head in confusion, he glanced back and added, “If you’re here when I get back, I’m gonna beat the ever-loving fuck outta you, boy.  I’m not going home to tell my wife that I got knocked out by the Choirboy!”

 

(Note from Mike: Obviously, he was going for a weapon.)

 

Needless to say, I ran to my car and left, laughing the whole drive home.

 

In retrospect, I wonder what he told his wife?  Hmmmm… 

 

If it’d been my story to tell, I’d have told her that- just like in bed- Killer only lasted 15 seconds…

 

(Oh, SNAP!!!) 

 

***

 

Story 3: Big Kahuna Burger, September 15^th, 2005

 

While writing the last email, I remembered more about The Big Kahuna.  Like I said, this guy was HUGE, (6’10 and well over 300 pounds), with no fat on him whatsoever.  From the start, he was knocking people loopy for two nights straight; in fact, one dude he fought was blasted completely across the ring.  After that, the poor guy just sat down in the corner and refused to move.

 

Kahuna knocked out two others before he and I were paired up, but I was still feeling pretty good because of my previous knockout, and because this was the only Toughman I’d actually “trained” for. 

 

(Note from Mike: Billy has been in many Toughman tournaments.)

 

During the weeks and months preceding the Toughman, I devoted my training time to “slipping” because, as I stated earlier, defense is not my strong suite. 

 

Anyway, so there I am staring across the ring at this muscular, scowling, tank of a man, when I rise from the corner stool only to feel my heart go south.  Now, I know guys that say they’re not afraid of anybody.  Well, they’ve never stood in the ring… they’ve never been in a real fight… and they’ve CERTINLY never voluntarily walked through the ropes to fight a 6’10” brick wall.

 

Naturally, we were both in our respective corners when the bell rang, but for the next few seconds, I thought the bell was still ringing… until I realized that Kahuna was somehow hitting me from an INSANE distance across the ring. 

 

I “turtled up” against the onslaught, then waiting for a break that only came after one full minute of dope-a-rope.  (No, not what Mohammad Ali did…  I was a dope for staying against the rope!).  The bell did finally ring, however, and I later learned that I was the first to go a full round with this beast.

 

My corner man had changed his tune from the previous night, and started encouraging me to move.  He asked if I knew how to slip, and when I told him, “Yeah”, he asked if I knew how many jabs Kahuna was throwing before launching his rear hand.  I told my corner man, “Two, and then the rear.”  He smiled at me and said, “Use it, Choirboy.  Use it.”

 

I moved much better the second round, and was able to get inside on him by slipping and going to the body.  Not only that, but I repeatedly backed him up with my jab/cross combo.  By the end of the second round, Kahuna was gassed and I was feeling great! 

 

The third round was pretty much even, but I lost to a split decision when it went to the judges.  Still, that was the best I’d ever felt after a “loss”. 

 

The Big Kahuna went on to the semi-finals to face a 5’7”, 185lb fighter.  That fighter’s name was Spencer Fisher.

 

Spencer and I talked before his bout with Kahuna before hand, and I told him, (from experience), that he could slip in and hit to the body.  Spencer did okay against the guy in the first round because he’d figured out Kahuna’s rhythm and distance.  In the second, however, Kahuna changed his cadence on his rear hand, and it was landing.

 

Spencer resorted to grappling.

 

To everybody in the auditorium, it looked like Spence was holding onto the Kahuna’s arm for dear life.  In reality, Spencer was going for a lock, and once Kahuna’s arm straightened out, Spencer took him down.

 

I was laughing. 

 

It looked like Spencer had dislocated his shoulder, but Kahuna was a true warrior, and he tried to continue.  He never threw another rear hand, though, and Spencer won.  To my knowledge, Spencer Fisher is still the lightest guy ever to win the heavyweight division at the Asheville Toughman.

 

Yeah, I lost, but a friend of mine won, so it’s still a good story, right?  Fine… fuck you then!  Let’s see how good YOU would do against a fucking man-beast.  Spencer only won because he cheated, “Nyah, Nyah, Nyah!!!”

 

-Bill “that is a tasty burger” Night Train

 

(Note from Mike: I think I’ve mentioned Spencer in other stories, but he’s one of the guys Billy and I trained with at [Super Asskicker’s] in the late 90’s/early 00’s.  And I can honestly say without embellishment that, (despite his size), Spencer was and is one of the deadliest mixed martial artists I have ever had the privilege to know.  He went on to compete in NHB professionally, and is slated to fight on Spike TV’s Ultimate Fighter show on October 3^rd.  The bout itself is locked in, but whether or not Spencer’s match will actually be televised, remains to be seen.  Still, if you get a chance to tune in on October 3^rd, I suggest you do so.  Seeing Spencer in action is quite a thing to behold.)

 

***

 

Story 4: Best Bounce, September 22nd, 2005

 

Hey Mike!

 

It’s been dead here at work for the past three weeks, so I’ve had plenty of time to try and write up some of my favorite fight/bar bouncing stories.  My best “bounce” of all time was easily one that happened at McGuffey’s Grill & Bar.

 

Ironically, I wasn’t even working the door that night.  I was hosting Karaoke instead:

 

“Okay, ma’am… that was really awful…  If my last vacuum cleaner sucked that hard, I wouldn’t’ve thrown it away…  Our next singer is Chris!  Please welcome Chris to the stage!”

 

Chris is an old buddy of mine, and though he’s no Pavarotti, at least he can hit the notes.  Also, Chris picks kick ass bands to sing to… like Alice in Chains… or Stone Temple Pilots.  That night, he was starting with Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs”. 

 

Anyway, once Chris gets underway, I take a second to look over the bar, then noticing that it was a full house.  Most everybody was smiling or laughing- except for the lady that just sang “Crazy”.  She was giving me the death ray stare for saying she sucked.

 

“My house, my rules, bitch.” I thought, “If you don’t like it, get the fuck out!”

 

The manager of McGuffey’s at the time was a tall, beautiful woman named Crystal, and Crystal smiled at me just as I got Chris started on his next song, then motioning for me to come over.

 

“Generals gathering in their masses…” Chris begins, and I make my way through the audience to where Crystal is standing.

 

“Bill, that table over there wants the birthday girl to get up on stage, but they don’t know what to make her sing.”

 

I look over at the all-girl table in question, then remembering that they’d been setting up a birthday cake earlier that night while I was setting up the sound system.

 

“They want me to embarrass her?” I asked.

 

Crystal’s smile grew even wider, “Of course!”

 

“Perfect, I know just what she should sing.” 

 

“What is it?”

 

“Surprise,” I grunted, intentionally being cagey.  I loved teasing Crystal.  She was so good at her job that I could only get the upper hand by joking around.

 

“Okay,” Crystal said, “But just so you know, they’re all gay, so don’t do anything stupid.”

 

She knew me oh-so-well…  But hey!  I knew they were gay anyway.  They looked like a softball team when they walked in.  These girls had asses bigger than mine… bigger shoulders… probably bigger dicks too.  And why does the lesbian culture have to adopt the worst haircut in all of Redneckdom?  …The Mullet? 

 

I guess that question will have to wait for another day.

 

Anyway, there was only one that actually looked female.  She was even kind of pretty, and it turns out that it was her birthday they were celebrating.

I was going to enjoy this song set…

 

For no particular reason, it was around this time that I noticed a man standing where I usually position myself to work the door.  He was talking to another girl at an adjacent table, but his glassy-eyed stare was locked to the pretty lesbian birthday girl.  This guy was obviously drunk, and even though he wasn’t causing a problem, I pointed him out to Crystal.  She nodded to me as if to say, “I’ll watch ‘im.”

 

So Chris finishes his song, and I return to the stage to introduce the birthday girl.  Since it was a “command performance” she had no idea what I was going to make her sing.  But then the music started, and everybody busts out laughing as she struggles through, “I touch myself” by The Divinyls.

 

Oh yes…  Life is good.

 

So the pretty lesbian finishes and goes back to her table, at which time the drunk guy leans over to her and says something.  I could see her cheeks flush red, and her girlfriend sitting nearby apparently got pissed.

 

Crystal sees this too, and she’s “on” it, so I continue with the show.  It’s Chris’s turn again, and he decides on AIC “Grind”.  Since this is one of my favorite songs, I jump up on stage.

 

“What was that?” I say into the microphone, “Why yes, Chris, I’d be glad to help you!”

 

The guitars roar as the intro starts, and then I look up and see Crystal confronting the drunk.  I immediately step back down because the drunk had drawn his hand back like he was gonna smack or punch Crystal.

 

Don’t get me wrong, she could’ve probably taken him, but it pissed me off that this asshole would even threaten her.  He made a move, but didn’t get a chance to hit her because I closed the gap and put him in a “chicken wing”.  Securing the lock, I put my finger under his nose, (my favorite bar control technique), and led him out.

 

By the time we got to the door, he was begging me to let him, “Leave like a man.”

 

(Note from Mike: Yeah Billy, I think I would’ve gone ahead and buttfucked him for taking a swing at a female.  Let him “Leave like a man” with my DICK in his ass!!!”)

 

If anybody reading this ever becomes a bouncer, making a statement like, “Let me leave like a man,” is code for, “Let me go so I can kick your ass.”  Nevertheless, I let him go and shoved him forward.  Drunk guy immediately turns and throws a wild haymaker, but I had already stepped back, and he PLASTERED himself to the rock wall near the door. 

 

As he rallies to continue his futile attempt at “Leaving like a man”, I spin him completely around and take him to the floor for a choke.  At this point, the lady he’d been sitting with in the beginning, (not the Lesbian; the original one), jumps on my back and starts pulling my hair and ears.

 

“Get off my brother!” she screams, “You’re gonna kill him!”

 

Already on the scene, Crystal grabs the drunk’s sister by the nape of the neck and pulls her off.

 

“He’s with us,” she advised, “He’s a professional.” …then looking down at me, “Put him to sleep, Bill.  Put him to sleep.”

 

Given the “go ahead”, I tightened the choke and counted to six in my head.  But the guy was still wiggling around, so I squeezed for another six.

 

I wonder how Einstein would’ve theorized time slowing down in a high stress situation…

 

This time, he’s out like a light.  He was even snoring, so I eased off and slapped him between the shoulder blades.  The guy woke up pretty fast, but there was no fight left in him.

 

“I have exercised the demons, friends!” I said in my best preacher voice, “Please address all donations to the Kick Your Ass Club!”

 

I’d imagine he opened his eyes to realize that he was not kicking my ass, and had instead lost and regained consciousness.

 

“Get up and go home,” I said, still behind him and still in position to choke.

 

“Okay man, I’ll go.” He replied, standing up to face me.  His eyes immediately dropped towards the floor.  “Thanks for not killing me.”

 

I chuckled to myself, knowing that it HAD to suck getting choked completely out.  It’s probably as close to dying as you can get without actually dying.

 

Drunk guy looks at his sister, and Crystal lets her go, the two of them making to leave.  But then he glances back at the bar, narrows his eyes on the pretty lesbian birthday girl and says, “I just have to know one thing… what are you doing with all those nookie lickers?”

 

A butch-mullet wearing one, (the birthday girl’s girlfriend, apparently), grabs the pretty lesbian and kisses here full on the mouth… with tongue… and drunk guy just walks away.

 

After he left, the birthday girl turns to me and says, “I’m not gay.  I’m bisexual.”, which prompts Crystal to walk over.  The two of ‘em kiss, and then they start kissing me, and then this 70’s porno music starts playing, and- Oh, wait.  That’s another story…

 

-Bill

 

(Note from Mike: Well, that’s about it for Billy tonight.  I’m sure more stories of Billy’s Mom beating/Kahuna eating/Lesbian taming exploits will follow in the future, so stay tuned.  Until then, keep your head in the porn and your hand on some lotion.  –Mike)