You sit down to eat lunch. Suddenly, a cafeteria tray slams into your face. The MMA Fighter is already on top of the table, shirtless, screaming like a war god.

“You ordered chicken nuggets? TOO BAD. I ORDERED PAIN.” He powerbombs you into your own food, then sprinkles salt packets in your wounds with professional technique.

He flexes, grabs a carton of milk, and smashes it over your head. “PROTEIN IS FOR WINNERS ONLY.”