Punching Tom Hanks: Dropkicking Gorillas and Pummeling Zombified Ex-Presidents---A Guide to Beating Up Anything (18 page)

He’s called The Undertaker, and yet his skin is painted in an extra pale-green,
corpse-y
color, he only speaks in grunts and the occasional raspy threat. His gimmick is taking abuse while in a comatose state before miraculously sitting up or “rising from the dead,” and his wrestling style involves lumbering around like a zombie. None of this sounds very
undertaker-ey,
which makes me think someone in charge of naming characters in wrestling was tasked with finding a “scary” name, went out into the world, found a graveyard, came across a zombie rising from the dead being tended to by an undertaker, and somehow got their names reversed. To be fair, he does wear a suit made from Lycra fashioned to look like what could be an undertaker’s suit.

Another technique he’s fond of is staring at his opponent, shaking and then rolling his eyes back into his head so only the whites show. This would be terrifying were he actually a monster. As it is, though, we know he’s just a large guy rolling his eyes back in his head. A maneuver that makes him 10 percent more scary and about 98 percent more blind. This is when you punch him. Hard. He does this in scripted wrestling matches so one could make the argument that he wouldn’t actually be dumb enough to do it in an actual fight. I disagree. After nearly twenty years of instinctively rolling his eyes at the start of a match and watching men cower, I guarantee you he won’t have the wherewithal to not, at some point, go to that move to help him out. Like a Pavlovian dog … dressed as a grotesque mortician.

What’s that? You’re hung up on the “twenty years of rasslin’” part? That’s right. The Undertaker has been around the block a few times. Then he bought a house on that block, seeded a lawn in front of said house, and then proceeded to chase kids off of it. He’s old, is my point. You throw a couple of punches to a blinded, nearly sixty-year-old man, I don’t care what shade of scary paint he’s covered in, he’s going down.

If he gets up, wait for him to repeat the eye-roll move, then repeat yours. One more round of this should be enough to ensure your win. If there’s anything nearby that he might be able to use as makeshift casket, be careful, as he’s known for sometimes trying to bury people. Usually it’s at the conclusion of special “casket matches,” but you can’t be too careful. Also, in the wrestling world, taking possession of his “special urn” allows you to control The Undertaker. Unlike the eye-roll thing, this is clearly something that wouldn’t work in actual life. That’s too bad.

Keep in mind, in the course of his illustrious career he’s beaten The Executioner. Also keep in mind that that isn’t the profession of the man he beat, it’s merely the name of his wrestling character. He has, to the best of my knowledge, never executed a man.

Fun fact:
The Undertaker’s real-life wife appeared briefly on TV with him in a wrestling storyline. Her name is Sara. At one point they began referring to her as “Sara Undertaker” as if that was her last name. As if she had married this guy called The Undertaker, took that full name as her last name … and kept the Sara part. Odd. Less odd when you consider that at one point The Undertaker was managed by a man named Paul Bearer.

HOW TO BEAT UP A QUENTIN TARANTINO CHARACTER

Find the nearest revival house. If there are several to choose from, concentrate on those showing a double feature of some “tough guy” fare. “Hard-boiled men in a hard land,” type films. Any B movie starring Sonny Chiba or Charles Bronson will do. Maybe something like
Bad Day at Black Rock
or
Le Samourai.
This is where you’ll find your adversary. You’ll know him on sight. Trust me, you won’t think you will, but you will. Approach him as he’s leaving the theater. He’ll be alone, or holding court on the low-brow merits of the film, with an out-of-his-league lady on his arm. Wait for the lady to depart, then club him from behind with a lead sap. Grab him under the shoulders, then drag him into your waiting van. (Drag with your legs, not your back.) Take him to your safe house and tie him to a chair.

While he’s unconscious search him for any quirky, identifiable weapons that may be his trademark. Does he have a cutting implement as part of his nickname? “The Blade”? “Knife” Rodgers? Then, look for a knife. He might have a gun, but that’s not remarkable enough to bother naming him for it. Maybe he carries rusty pliers around to extract victims’ teeth? Take them from him.

Wake him up. From what I’ve observed, a slap or two to the face has never not worked. Immediately punch him in the face as he wakes up. Then, casually pull out the weapon you grabbed off of him. Real casual, like, say, “Oh, yeah, looking for this? I’m tapping your knife on my leg, I took it from you and already forgot I have it, no big deal.”

He might ask you what you want, or why he’s there. Just smile and say, “All in good time.” Then, take out a straight razor. Open it, then shave a tiny spot under your chin, then put the razor away. Now, light a cigarette.

Have a cigarette ready for him, too. He’s going to ask for one in about a second. And man is he going to milk the shit out of smoking that thing, once you untie his hands. He’s got every accoutrement and gadget ever invented. Every tick and flourish a man can pull off during the act of smoking, he’ll do it. Flicking the lighter, lighting it in a “cool,” practiced way, blowing smoke rings, fingering some worn cigar band he’s got some story about …

Avoid getting into a prolonged pop culture debate with him. If he asks you about Count Chocula, ignore him. You’ve got diabetes as far as he’s concerned. If he comments on your T-shirt, first of all, why are you wearing a T-shirt during an interrogation? Look at him, he’s wearing a nice
vintage-y
suit! Or maybe he’s got some worn-in but still cool-looking, vaguely Western attire. The guy is somehow pulling off the cowboy boot look! Why can’t you be more like him? Ugh, just tell him it’s the shirt you took off some guy you killed and move on.

At some point, during your bantering, he’ll try to steal the power back and shift the momentum in his favor, even though you’re the fucking guy with the knife. He’ll do this by spitting on you and/or telling you to go fuck yourself, or he could be more subtle. He’ll have a story about how he ended up the way he did and he’ll try to take control with that. Some badass tale that meanders but then builds to a riveting climax, that leaves him sitting across from you puffing smoke like a super-cool greaser while you stare slack-jawed trying to digest it all. Some tale about how he hates left-handed Swahili people and left-handed Swahilis are the scum of the Earth because John Adams visited their country and left an umbrella there and …
Blah blah blah …

Fuck that. You out-story this fucking guy! If he’s got some crackpot theory involving the invention of the cotton gin causing scores of Puerto Ricans to eventually move to Brooklyn and what that shit means, you come back with some ad-libbed thoughts on how season two of
Who’s the Boss?
led to the birth of grunge …

If he’s got one about how he learned never to fear another motherfucker on God’s green Earth because of the way he saw Paul Newman smile into the eyes of Strother Martin with a wink and a smirk in
Cool Hand Luke,
you come back with one about Steve McQueen and how the memory of him jumping the fence in
The Great Escape
helped you endure nine hours of torture at the hands of … Tony Danza. It was a
Who’s the Boss?
marathon. Yeah, you bring that shit full fucking circle on him. There’s no damn way you should be letting a guy tied to a chair get the better of you. I could see if maybe he was a magician or something, shackles mean nothing to those guys. But he ain’t. He’s no magician and you’re no dumb tourist, drunk in Reno looking to kill ninety minutes. (Yeah, I don’t know, either.)

He’ll be a trained man, a soldier, world weary, but with an affable charm. He’ll be overly familiar with the idea of a Mexican standoff. He may quote lines from the Tuco character in
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly,
or any character from
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly,
or, he could just be ugly. On the inside. Outside he’ll be handsome with a rakish bent.

Hit him a few times in the face. Then hit him with an uppercut. A hard one so the chair flips over and he lands on his back. NO ONE looks cool in that turtle-on-its-back, still tied to the chair, squirmy position. He’ll be flailing around on the floor, trying to right himself. Just take a last puff of your cigarette, think of something cool to say, and say it exactly as you fling the cigarette. If you flub the line, or end up fumbling the cigarette and burning your hands …
Sigh.
Just leave.

HOW TO BEAT UP THE BATMAN

Batman has been called many things: The Dark Knight, The Caped Crusader, The Wall-Crawler. (To be fair, this last one, mainly by people who know very little about comic books.) Batman, as is widely known, has no actual powers; rather, he’s trained his body to reach the peak of human performance. Then he combined it with a detective’s analytical brain, and a high-tech black-and-gray costume used to sneak about nocturnally with ease … as well as a bright, shimmering yellow belt, containing gadgets.

He’s what’s known in comics as a rich millionaire do-gooder (Iron Man, Moon Knight, etc.), one of the more implausible creations to ever appear on the printed page. Gamma-irradiated behemoth? Sure. A man with spider powers? Okay. Rich guy helping poor people?
Yeahhhh,
I don’t buy it.

Let me ask you something—are you determined? Really truly single-minded in the pursuit of your goals?

Because that’s what it’s going to take to beat The Batman. The bad news is, this process will take ten years. The good news is, at the end of those ten years, you’ll have taken out The “goddamn” Batman. That’s a nice little detail to have on your resume.

Step One:
Forget about fighting him. Seek him out and befriend him. Become his pal. Be “there” for him. Get to the point where he relies on you and trusts you with his life.

Occasionally, do things to reassure him. Point a projectile weapon at him and say, “I’m going to murder you.” Then pretend to shoot him, and say, “Nah, I’m just joking,” then hand him back the weapon. Maybe even say, “But I could have…” Now, it’s going be hard, but do your best to say this last part without menace. DON’T let your gaze harden and then drop your head, while eyeballing him in a malevolent manner. If a camera zooms in for a close-up and possible freeze-frame on your scowling countenance, push it away. Just try to keep it light. Say, “But I could have … LOL! Who wants lunch?” Like that. Also, avoid repeating lines with an inappropriate intensity. For example, he picks up the tab for the aforementioned lunch and says, “You can get me next time.” Do not mutter, “Oh, I’ll get you alright. I’ll definitely … get you … next time.”

On the last day of your tenth year as friends, ask him to come over to your desk to help you with a computer game. He may balk at this, as he’s not known as a computer game expert, but be firm—insist he take a look at the screen.
Why not ask him to help you with something he is knowledgeable about,
you ask? I’m sorry, WHO’S GIVING THE TUTORIAL HERE? YOU OR ME? That’s right.

Step Two:
When he leans on your desk to get a look at the screen, quickly snatch his wrist, then stand, and pivot. Using your superhuman strength hurl him through the roof of the building. Then quickly fly through the hole his body created, shoot him with your heat-vision, then grab him and huck him into the fiery sun.
*

HOW TO BEAT UP
THE A-TEAM
’S B. A. BARACUS

B. A. Baracus is of course the “muscle” for the group of outlaw, fugitive, renegade, outlaws known as the A-Team. Baracus is a pro all the way. Ex-Special Forces, currently working as a soldier of fortune while surviving in the Los Angeles underground. Mr. Baracus is on the run for a crime he didn’t commit. Well, that’s his story, I’m not a lawyer. Other things I’m not? Doctor, pilot, stuntman, coherent, sober.

His weaknesses are well documented but will only get you so far. He’s afraid of flying and yet, somehow ridiculously susceptible to being drugged into unconsciousness shortly before planned flights he’s earlier expressed reluctance to taking part in.

He wears dozens of cumbersome gold chains around his neck, but what does that really give you, advantage-wise? Does it suggest vanity? Obsession with material wealth? Greater resistance to beheading attempts? Unknown.

If you’re looking for a pattern (and you should be), one of Baracus’s telltale maneuvers is squaring off against an opposing group’s equally beefed-up thug. Inevitably, a guy who closely resembles B. A. body-wise but is of another ethnicity. For example: giant, muscular Asian guy; giant, muscular redneck; giant, muscular Samoan guy; etc.

According to the footage I’ve seen, this fellow is usually introduced when “Face,” one of Baracus’s teammates, would attempt to take the large guy on after dispatching many lesser foes, only to hurt his hand punching the man’s barrel chest. At which point B. A. would step in and the real fight would begin. A fight often culminating in Baracus hurling his dispatched foe, in slow motion, over a camera that’s been placed on the ground and pointed skyward.

By now, while studying footage, you’ll have heard Baracus utter a certain phrase several times. Don’t be baited by it. Beware, while he does “pity the fool” this is IN NO WAY REFLECTED IN DISPLAYS OF MERCIFUL BEHAVIOR! He feels bad for you, and the fact that you’re a fool and that we live in a world that contains fools, but he won’t shed a tear for you. He will make YOU shed tears like a box of rattlesnakes sheds skins. You know how awful you just felt after reading that clunky analogy? THAT’S NOTHING COMPARED TO HOW BARACUS’S FISTS WILL MAKE YOU FEEL. Afterward he’ll try to beat up the box of rattlesnakes as well, so you’re kind of nature’s last line of defense here.

The way to beat Baracus is by disguising yourself as his team leader John “Hannibal” Smith. No doubt you’ve heard of Mr. Smith’s unique skill and are daunted by this part of the plan. Don’t be. Hannibal is the “Master of 1,000 Disguises,” all of them unconvincing. Capable of portraying everything from an unlikely tollbooth operator to a man who is clearly not a Texas oil baron. Give the phrase “Master of Disguise” as used here no more weight than you would when finding it printed across a box containing a fake mustache, nerd glasses, and a polka-dot bow tie.