If you are one of the few existing in the dark zones of ignorance, the Co-Main Event podcast by Bleacher Report's Chad Dundas and MMA Junkie's Ben Fowlkes is the best MMA podcast in this dimension. Sure, maybe on Planet Diaz they might have a podcast where one of the infinite versions of Nick and Nate Diaz have their own, rambling three hour show, but we aren't privy to those realms. So, for now, the CME is all we got. However, this isn't even about something that they had on their three rounds of podcast entertainment. No sir or ma'am or pronoun, this is about what they put in the latest edition of their Breakfast of Champions newsletter which comes every Friday-and it's so easy to unsubscribe. Earlier this week, Nick Diaz just brought up he believes someone drugged him before his fight with Georges St-Pierre like it was big deal. As your brain explodes, gather up the pieces and read how this "allegedly" happened thanks to the Dundasso Publishing Company. Just after midnight Francis Carmont steered the big Plymouth down Rue Barr\u00e9 and hooked a left into the alley behind the car wash, listening to the tires crunch on broken glass as he rolled the big boat into the darkened lee of a sagging birch. He cut the engine and rubbed his eyes. He felt dirty. Christ, an American car. And a Plymouth? This was what you got when you let Georges pick the ride. Nothing too flashy, he said. They didn\u2019t want to attract attention. Carmont\u2019s first question: If he drove around in a car that made him look like the saddest asshole in Montreal, would that not attract some attention? Georges had smiled at this. It was not a nice smile. It was a shut-up-and-drive-the-damn-car smile. Carmont had seen enough of those in his life to spot one from across the street. He didn\u2019t know how many more of those smiles he could stand. He was thinking about it when the rear door opened and the man he\u2019d been waiting for slipped into the backseat. Carmont glanced at him in the rearview, but couldn\u2019t make out his face. The man rustled inside the neoprene of his winter coat and then stopped. Carmont could hear him breathing back there. \u201cSo?\u201d the man said. \u201cSo what?\u201d said Carmont. \u201cThe money,\u201d the man said. \u201cThe way this usually works is, you give me the money and I give you the item. In that order.\u201d As he talked Carmont could see the dark shape of his mouth moving in the mirror, but nothing more. Carmont took off his driving gloves and reached into his coat pocket, then stopped. \u201cHow do I know you have it?\u201d he said. \u201cOh good, you\u2019re one of those,\u201d said the man. \u201cYou think, what, I show up here empty-handed, think I\u2019ll take the money and jet, make a brilliant getaway before you catch me? Fella, you\u2019re the one in a car. You saw me come up here on foot.\u201d \u201cI didn\u2019t see you.\u201d \u201cNah, you didn\u2019t,\u201d the man said. \u201cYou were daydreaming. A bad idea this late at night.\u201d Carmont turned in the seat to face him. He still couldn\u2019t see any more than the man\u2019s mouth. He let his eyes flash anger in the dark. \u201cEasy,\u201d the man said. \u201cYou think I want trouble? Look, I know who you are. I\u2019m not going to get into a tussle with Frankie Cars. Especially not in the backseat of a \u2026 what is this, a Chrysler? Best wheelman in the middleweight division can\u2019t even get something with a V6. What\u2019s the world coming to?\u201d Carmont couldn\u2019t speak. He saw the man\u2019s mouth twist into a smile as his hand came up holding something small and made of glass. When the thin sliver of streetlight caught it, Carmont could see it was filled with blue liquid. \u201cThat\u2019s it?\u201d Carmont said. \u201cThat\u2019s all you need.\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s not for me.\u201d \u201cI know that,\u201d the man said. \u201cThough I\u2019m not supposed to, am I? Just like I\u2019m not supposed to know who you are, or where this little baby is headed, or what it has to do with the big fight at the Bell Centre tomorrow night, right?\u201d Carmont stared at him. He reached in his pocket and felt the money, a tight brick of bills. He handed it over and felt the man press the cold glass of the vial into his palm. \u201cYou can slip it in his morning coffee if you like,\u201d the man said. \u201cHe won\u2019t taste it. Put it in his food, maybe, that vegan shit he eats. This is the part you have to figure out on your own.\u201d \u201cNot me,\u201d Carmont said. \u201cThis is not my problem.\u201d He pocketed the vial and turned to put his hands on the wheel. That comforting feeling, even now. Like being in his own yard. Behind him the man shouldered open the rear door and laughed from somewhere in his nose. \u201cWhatever you have to tell yourself,\u201d the man said. \u201cI asked you a year ago, I bet you\u2019d have told me you\u2019d never be driving around in a damn Plymouth, running the superstar's errands in the middle of the night. Am I right?\u201d Carmont said nothing, reached down and turned the key. The Plymouth labored to life. \u201cDon\u2019t let it get you down,\u201d the man said as he swung his feet to the pavement. \u201cDon\u2019t be scared, homie.\u201d If you liked that, you can listen to the Co-Main Event podcast here and subscribe to the Breakfast of Champions newsletter. ...We'll be expecting our check in the mail, homies.