Punching Tom Hanks: Dropkicking Gorillas and Pummeling Zombified Ex-Presidents---A Guide to Beating Up Anything (15 page)

If they’d chosen to wear classic pirate shit, maybe they’d be a problem, since most people on the street aren’t equipped to handle the antiquated techniques of a one-eyed, hook-handed madman on a tear. But modern-day pirates? They’re just average dudes with guns. Probably wielding one of those crappy stainless-steel shotguns. No special instructions needed. Destroy them any way you please.

HOW TO BEAT UP A GOLEM

The mythical golem is a massive automaton formed out of dirt then brought to life through magic. Easily the most fearsome Jewish monster this side of Jerry Lewis. It is, quite simply, the scariest thing a lump of clay can ever become. Ashtrays, vases, and bowls don’t even come close. Not even those crafted using sexual chemistry, a potter’s wheel, and a sad ghost.

Some say the only way to stop the golem is to place a scroll containing sacred words in its mouth; others, have never heard of it and get annoyed when you try to talk to them about golems. “I don’t know,” they’ll say. “Please stop talking about monsters.” “You’re really creeping me out, and I’d just like to ride the bus in peace,” they’ll offer. Hmm in peace? OR IN PIECES? YOU THINK THIS METAL VESSEL WILL SPARE US FROM THE WRATH OF A RAMPAGING GOLEM?!? You. Dummy. He’ll tear through this tin can like he’s a specially made tin-cutting tool, and the fact that you didn’t know that terrifies me, almost as much as the creature itself.

The golem is a slow-moving, but dangerous foe. If he hits you clean with one of his heavy-thudding shots, it could be over. However, his strength is also his potential downfall. He’s exactly the right consistency of mud to do damage; thick and dense enough to deliver force, but pliable enough to shrug off your counterattacks. But, if you can alter his density far enough in either direction, you can beat him.

The end goal here is to position the golem in front of a heat source until his clay hardens, rendering him immobile. Start with run-of-the-mill shit-talk: “Oh, you wanna go? I’ll kick your fucking ass. You’re dead motherfucker! I’m gonna kick your dick off!!!” Then, “I’m gonna beat you so bad they’re gonna need a before-and-after picture just to recognize you.” Then, a left turn. “That’s right, you fuck, a fucking before-and-after photo … in fact, if you don’t already have a guy in mind, I’d love to take that fucking photo for you! Seriously, I think I could get some nice shots, and really bring something out of you, before I punch yer face off. I hope this isn’t too forward but I’ve got my stuff in the car, and with the natural light in the den…” Now, if he agrees, you’ve got him.

After getting your camera, and posing him in front of various backdrops in goofy hats, insist he try one in front of your fully stoked and roaring fireplace. Tell him it’ll be great. Maybe even with a pipe in his mouth-hole. This is the tricky part. You’ve got to stall him there in front of the fireplace for five to six hours, until he hardens. Yeah, I know, even with an unthinking mass of clay brought to life through magic, this is gonna be tough. I guess just pretend the camera has a special, super-long exposure? Stall him with: “Just a few more seconds … just a few more …
aaaany
second now.”

Once he hardens, throw the camera down triumphantly and run up to him. His body will be like stone, except for his fleshy eyeballs, which will be rolling around all nervous and shit. Pick up the fireplace poker, and just start wacking limbs off until there’s nothing left but dust.

Finally, develop the photos. Print a bunch of them up, then hand them out to friends as gifts. Maybe tape one up in your cubicle, and when you spot an officemate eyeing it, casually say: “Oh, that? Just some golem I beat up one time. That’s all, no big deal really…”

HOW TO BEAT UP A TROJAN HORSE

The Trojan horse is, indisputably, the greatest tactical maneuver of all time. But as crazy as it might sound today (in a world where warring armies are CONSTANTLY leaving enormous hollowed-out statues for each other as gifts that are later revealed to be filled with soldiers who wait until nightfall to slit their enemies’ throats), there was a time when such an event was unheard of. There was a time—before the Trojan horse gambit revolutionized warfare—where you’d go dozens of battles without seeing such a thing. Ridiculous, I know. Since that time has clearly passed, I’m going to tell you how to deal with this all-too-common foe.

When they wheel that giant wooden horse in, you’ve GOT to act completely blown away. Say things like: “
Whoa!
Guys! This is—you did not have to do this! I mean we were JUST fighting two days ago! Thank you
sooooo
much.”

When the army you were fighting leaves and you shut the gates, it’s important to keep the façade going for the soldiers inside the horse. You just know they all have drinking glasses and are holding them up to the walls to hear what you’re saying—except their medic, who’s probably using a stethoscope.

Walk around the horse with a mile-wide smile, tapping it, and saying loudly, “Yep, she sure looks solid, alright,” or, “I don’t have any X-ray equipment on hand, but if I did, I wouldn’t even bother using it because this thing is CLEARLY made of solid wood and is not hollow. It’s just not.” Feel free to gesture to your friends, letting them know that despite your words, you’re not buying “this Trojan horse business.” Convey through body language your sarcastic vibe of “YEAH, RIGHT, ‘It’s made of solid wood!’ Uh,
oooookay.
” Roll your eyes and do the jerking-off motion while pointing and quietly laughing.

Beware of any mirrored surfaces on the horse, because they’re probably two-way mirrors. This may seem unlikely, because of how incredibly odd it would be to receive a large wooden horse as a gift that also had a giant mirror set into its side. But if you do see one, that’s what it’s for. (Do what you want, but personally, I automatically assume EVERY pane of glass I see throughout my day is a two-way mirror. I don’t even feel comfortable using a ladies’ compact mirror without planning how I’d leap through that glass and start punching guys out, if the need arose.)

Take a broomstick and slide it through the handles on the big wooden doors at the front of the horse. Then kick and strike the horse, making lots of noise in the process. Their cover having been blown, the soldiers inside will shout, “Hey, you out there, knock it off! Quit shaking it!”

While they are
many,
and you are
one,
your advantage is that they must exit, single file, through a small area just to get at you. Climb up the horse, positioning yourself so your kicking foot is right over the door. Alert your trained dog, Pete, to pull the broomstick away, opening the door. Then throw him a treat. When the soldiers come storming out, clown-car style, you just stomp each one on the top of the head, hard, as if your very life depended on it. (It doesn’t, don’t worry.) Eventually, a few of the soldiers may catch on and be reluctant to leave the horse. Just lie to them and say you promise not to noggin-kick them. After three or four rounds of this, even your promises might not be enough, so just douse the horse and the survivors in gasoline and burn the horse to the ground.

If, rather than soldiers, the horse is filled with a giant birthday cake and people carrying gifts, YOU’VE MADE A HUGE ERROR. Get out of there immediately. Then make new friends.

HOW TO BEAT UP LEGENDARY GREEK WARRIOR ACHILLES

I can see you snidely shaking your head. So confident in thinking you already have the key to beating Achilles. Well, hold on a second mythology buffs and people who enjoy metaphorically indicating their weaknesses to others—the answer isn’t as simple as it seems. Did you just mutter, “Shoot him in his Achilles’ heel?” (Which is coincidentally located in his actual heel.) Then congratulations! YOU ARE DEAD. ACHILLES HAS JUST MURDERED YOU TO DEATH.

Happy? Well, lucky for you, I was just making a point. He hasn’t actually killed you. Next time you might not be so fortunate.

As we all know, Achilles was a nearly invincible warrior from Greek mythology, who also starred in that book,
The Iliad
. He gained his invulnerability after his mother dipped him into the magical river Styx. However, she dipped him while holding him by the heel (that’s a crazy display of grip strength; and keep in mind, this is pre-invention of stress balls, so yeah, maybe she practiced crushing apples or something), thus his heel did not gain the protective properties of the water.

I’ve always wondered why she didn’t just dip him once and then hold the rest of him to dip the heel. Okay, true, maybe then she smudges the river water already on Achilles thus weakening him in two or three spots, but she also gains her own invincible hands! Palms of steel! (A handball phenom?) Wouldn’t that be more valuable? Two almost invincible foes rather than just one with a huge weakness that everyone and their brother knows about? Or maybe she could’ve done a series of dips, over and over, covering every part of him thoroughly. I mean, jeez, this is her son! Her flesh-and-blood son who she’s trying to turn into the perfect fighter. Can’t she take some time with it? Hell, they dip a lousy candle more times than that. Oh, that’s right, the candlemaker takes pride in his work. Can you honestly say the same, Achilles’ mom?

Okay, enough preamble, here’s what you do.

Step One:
Find that river Styx.

Step Two:
Take yer clothes off and get in that shit.

Get that magic Kevlar water everywhere. Wet your hair, open your mouth, and blow some bubbles, swallow some of it. Maybe put some of it in a flask, too. You never know when you might have to make some object the size of a shoebox invincible. It might be fun to make a sandwich invincible. Actually, that would be a nightmare, hanging out with some delicious sandwich you could never eat, taunting you, year after year. A friend stops by, saying, “Hey, man, can I grab that sandwich in yer fridge?” You say, “You’re certainly welcome to try, Gary, but here’s the thing, it’s a fucking invincible sandwich … So, yeah, in ten minutes when you’re staring back at me with a mouthful of broken teeth we can get some miso soup delivered.”

Step Three:
Find and challenge Achilles.

Here’s the problem with targeting the heel. He expects you to go for the heel. He knows it’s coming and he’s totally ready for it. Whether it’s him utilizing a southpaw stance to keep that heel farther away from you, forcing you to come into his danger zone where he’ll be winging that looping right hand, or maybe just putting on a metal sock, I’m not too sure. But he’s ready, that much I know.

You hit him everywhere, but the heel. You ignore the heel. It doesn’t exist. I don’t care if you stumble across him splayed out on a dock like Tom Sawyer—barefoot, wearing overalls, and chewing on a shaft of wheat—one leg lazily kicked over the other and that heel just hanging there with a bull’s-eye painted on it. You ignore it. Jump over that heel and stomp him with both feet, hard on his chest.

The top of the head, stomach, armpits, thigh region—you pound him with every shot you got. After about an hour of this, he’s gonna slip up, forget about his game plan to protect the heel, and leave it exposed. When he does that, you load up the biggest right hand you’ve got and throw it right at that heel. If nothing happens, it means you got confused and punched the wrong one. Quickly regroup and then punch the other heel! He’ll scream and drop to the ground in pain. When he does you follow him down, grab his ankle and deliver the MMA finisher known as the “heel hook.”

Congratulations. You just beat the piss out of one of history’s greatest warriors.