Nobody can hurt me without my permission

                                                                                                           – Mahatma Gandhi

"How did you do that?"

"Dunno. Maybe if you did a little less talking and a little more watching, you'd figure it out."

And so I trained my eyes on the fights, adhering to my wrestling father's words after he won by countout and snapped at me for my jabbering. Trained my body into an unstoppable machine. I bent the game into shape. I worked my heart out in the cage, only to have it taken by my ex. Now I'm a retired MMA fighter having the Tough Guy Contest, which was held in 1980, be the only mark under my belt. And I have an ex out there who's probably pumping heroin intravenously at the corner of an alley owned by the suppliers of her obsessive opium obscenity.

I had a sobriquet under the MMA spotlight that replaced my erring real name. 'Lostar.' And now it's my middle name. Conall 'Lostar' Warner. I was named this because I was born and bred in Texas, Ohio nicknamed 'The Lone Star State'. My retirement from the MMA was seditious towards the sport because Pittsburgh loved me too much to see me go. It's been 5 years since the contest, and this is where the story is set.