Earlier this month, my buddy Derek from the gym died after overdosing on the nutritional supplement No Xplode. He drank 36 times the recommended dosage, ingesting so much nitric oxide and caffeine that his heart blew into chunks and he pretty much shi* his kidneys out his butt-hole, which sounds disgusting, but is admirable in a sense because Derek was a warrior on the weight bench, and warriors take the risks that sensible men (i.e. cowards) only read about. As a Green Belt in KenPo Karate, I share the warrior's outlook, and this is why I have been banned from three Nassau County MMA tournaments for using "excessive force." Sometimes, following the code of the warrior leads me to break rules, especially ones about punching your opponent in the windpipe or scrotum.

So Derek is dead, and everyone in our circle is grieving. To honor Derek, I hung a photo of him doing oiled poses at last year's Junior Mr. Universe in the lobby of my dojo. Next to that I put up his favorite zebra-striped doo-rag and the lyrics to his favorite song for cardio and squats (“I’m Glad You Came” by The Wanted). Since erecting the shrine, I have politely asked visitors to bow before it and to offer Derek a moment of silence. All of my students have complied, because they know that a warrior never commands as much respect as when he has died in the pursuit of his ideals, as did Derek.

Unfortunately, I had a situation last week with Hector, the delivery boy who brings the pizza to our dojo’s weekly Xbox night. Hector showed up on Thursday with the usual 10 large wheat crust pies and placed them on the counter, complaining in Span-glish about the humidity and the brace he has to wear on his back whenever he brings a huge order. Hector kept on whining about his back and ignored my request that he offer a silent prayer to Derek. Hector pretended to not speak English at all and just stuck out his hand for payment. Finally, I said, "Dude, bow to Derek." Again, Hector ignored me, so I said, “Hector, you are half the man Derek was and are unfit to wipe the sweat from his brow. You’re not getting a dime until you bow to his shrine.” Hector had the nerve to ask for money yet again, and that is why Hector lost an incisor and will be clutching an ice pack to his testicles for at least the next 36 hours.

This entire situation has left me terribly depressed, and not because the police might get involved, because I can bribe them, but because my shrine to Derek was clearly not impressive enough to earn respect from some bike riding, hair-lipped dimwit such as Hector. I feel like I let Derek down, and if you are a member of the warrior community, you know how devastating it is to fail a comrade. Is there anything else I can do to memorialize my bro? My buddy Tyler said I should tattoo his name above my heart but my buddy JT said I should organize a “lift-off” at the local Gold’s. I know this sounds wack, but I think the most fitting tribute would be to knock out a few more of Hector's teeth and give them to Derek's mom so she can place them by his urn. What do you guys think?

Mojo,

I appreciate your suggestion regarding tattoos but I believe that it would be more dignified if the tats displayed Derek high-fiving a tiger (karate icon) or Joe Weider (bodybuilding legend) rather than heterosexually kissing a member of The Wanted. I suspect a little sarcasm in your answer, chief, and I think that's a shame for you. Before we become brothers, you will need reeducation, as the Koreans like to say. Specifically, you will learn the hard way that words have consequences, and when dealing with a highly decorated martial artist, those consequences can range anywhere from a swollen lip to shards of glass embedded in the webbing between your fingers to an M80 firecracker wedged between your butt cheeks. I am a humble warrior, so I rarely specify that my Green Belt in KenPo Karate is actually a Green Belt 4th Degree, which is only months of study away from a Black Belt. I am sure that even you can appreciate the lethality of a man who has been awarded a Black Belt i