Punching Tom Hanks: Dropkicking Gorillas and Pummeling Zombified Ex-Presidents---A Guide to Beating Up Anything (2 page)

As we all know, a man carrying nothing but a baguette instantly becomes 20 percent more jaunty than he would otherwise be. What you may not know is how to turn that simple fact to your advantage.

Let’s look at our target. The baguette might seem like a minor detail, but in reality it tells us all we’d ever need to know about the man.

A spring in his step, a bounce in his stride, perhaps even a gleam in his eye. Bordering on devilish, mayhap? This is a guy who cares about quality. He’s likely dressed in a tweed blazer of some sort, maybe paired with a rakish hat (I’m guessing the sort that would look appropriate on a brawling 1920s dockworker, but here is refined with a soft sweater/tie combo).

This is the kind of guy who’s never caught without his sketchbook tucked into his back pocket and is always writing a song in his head. He is most likely whistling, and going a step further he may be in love. He’s thinking of her or him, and he’s got his head in the clouds.

This guy definitely has a favorite organic bakery. But he’ll be happy to tell you the how and why of its recent decline.

If he
is
in love (and the baguette is a sign that he’s running home to someone, because the thought of one buying a baguette for oneself is unsettling. Though I guess he could be planning to cut the bread lengthwise to make himself a gigantic sandwich, in which case this whole breakdown and character profile would be wrong…) then he’s going to fight back twice as hard, because love is, apparently, a good reason to live. But this is counterbalanced ever so slightly by the fact that our target, most likely, is a nonviolent type and thus totally against fighting.

The way to get the upper hand here is to target the bread. He has absolutely no idea the extent to which you plan on battering him, so his first assumption will be that you’re just some guy who wants to swipe his baguette. As soon as he sees you, let your eyes drift to the bread. Then, once you’re focused on the bread, widen your eyes slightly. Let your mouth drop open, just a bit. Licking your lips in anticipation is also an option here, but I’m hesitant to recommend it due to most people’s inability to make this move anything other than sexual in the best case and disgusting in the worst case. If you’re a subtle type, who knows his way around a flirty exchange, then give it a go.

The man will instinctively pull the baguette closer to his body. Feint toward the bread, then without taking your eyes off it, drill the man with a hard shot, right between the eyes. Use either hand, it’s really your call. (What would
I
use? The left, but don’t let that sway you, this is your day.) Then, hit him with a big left hook in the same spot. Next, reach out and tear off a hunk of the bread and pop it into your mouth. Why not, right? Let’s be honest, you’re not fighting Thor here, this is merely some dude you spotted carrying a baguette. There’s NOTHING wrong with helping yourself to the food he was carrying. What, you don’t like delicious, fresh-baked items that are soft and supple on the inside, surrounded by a flavorful golden-brown crust? C’mon.

In all likelihood he wouldn’t have eaten it anyway, due to the painful memories associated with the baguette—those of getting his ass kicked while holding it. It would’ve gone to waste or, worse yet, some hobo would’ve gotten it.
Ha!
The very idea. And what would he have paired it with? Half a can of stale Sprite? Remnants scraped off a rusty tuna can lid? Yeah, you get my point.

The baguette-lover should be unconscious by now. You’re done.

HOW TO BEAT UP A TIME-TRAVELING CAVEMAN

The wind suddenly kicks up on a day that only moments before was as calm as can be. A metallic sphere appears out of nowhere amid a swirl of lightning, then floats to the ground. It looks to be made of steel, without a single flaw, crack, or opening visible. Then a door appears in the side of the sphere. It slides open with a whisper and a faint popping sound. A brief pause, and then a bewildered Cro-Magnon man stumbles out. He looks hungover. He’s dressed in animal skins and holding a large femur bone in his hand. He’s armed with brute strength and base, animal instinct.

And he’s about to get the hell beat out of him. By you.

This is where every hackneyed scene from every fish-out-of-water movie—featuring a wacky foreigner or a Tarzan knockoff, played by some Brendan Fraser type—turns into a way for you to destroy a man. You have the wisdom and technical know-how of twenty thousand years of human advancement. Think about that. Bombs, swords, microwaves, indoor plumbing, TiVo, cotton candy … You have the home court advantage times one thousand. He doesn’t even know what a blender is! That’s not a weapon you’d likely use in a fight with him, but if one showed up he’d probably stick his hand in it. He won’t go more than five minutes before walking into a sliding glass door or clothesline. If you handed him a gun he’d probably put it in his mouth and pull the trigger.
Don’t do this.
The environment is going to be your secret weapon.

He knows to not touch fire and that rocks are hard. That’s it! Go up to him while he’s gawking at a nearby building. He’ll be pointing and saying dumb-sounding shit that ain’t even words. Uh, no, that’s a building, not an, “
Ogmog!
” Cuff him behind the ear, then dance around him, staying just out of range. He might charge at you. If he does, unbutton your cardigan sweater, grab it near the lower corners, and flap at him with it like you’re a bat. He’s gonna lose it!
Hahaha!
look at that dumb look on his face, he thinks you just sprouted wings or something. Did he fall on the ground and squawk in horror? I bet he did. Okay, take off your cardigan. (Or rebutton it, depending on the weather and how you’re feeling. Are you chilly? Keep it on, then!)

Okay, while he’s recovering, get up onto some stilts. Run around yelling at him.
Hahaha!
Look! You’re suddenly a giant! “
Whoooa!
” That’s what he’ll be saying. I know you’re not really a giant. Are stilts too hard for you? No problem, get on a bicycle and peddle circles around him. Oh, man, that shit will freak him the fuck out. I bet he thinks you tamed some wild creature who then let you ride him. Nope! It’s just a thing made out of metal, stupid! Oh, that’s right, he doesn’t even know what metal is.
Hahahahaha!

All sorts of modern-day devices can be utilized to make your fight with a time-traveling caveman super easy, as well as a lot of fun. Grab from the following list as you see fit. I’ve also included information about how he’ll perceive the device.

AUTOMOBILE
(“Strange, wild creature with mighty roar!”):

Just starting your Honda Civic up will cause our large-browed buddy to run for the hills. But when you factor in headlights (
eyes like fire!
) and the exhaust (
more fire!
) he’ll be so blown away he won’t even have the sense to get out of the way when you run him over. Not like he’d have had a chance anyway. That Civic can move, baby.

TV
(“Prison for tiny humans, like Grok!”):

Just flip it on. He’ll drop down before it like it’s a sacred idol. You think you hate reality TV? His eyes might liquefy from the barrage of humanity’s dark side. Give him a few days, he’ll be telling you that
American Idol
is the worst thing since pterodactyl jerky.

LASER POINTER
(“Tiny, fast fire!” Note: A lot of our modern stuff looks like versions of fire, if you’re an idiot.):

If you’ve ever seen a cat run around chasing a laser pointer, you know what to expect here. Only substitute a 190-pound, half-naked man covered in filth and bloody yak hides for the cat. If you put the laser on him, he’ll swat and tear at his own flesh in an attempt to get it off. If you point the laser on the side of a far-off mountain, he’ll probably try to climb the mountain and seek it out, to ask it some important caveman question.

LINKING RINGS MAGIC TRICK
(“Linking rings magic trick!”):

Rejoice, third rate magicians, we’ve found someone who’ll enjoy your tired antics. He’ll be delighted, again and again, as you link and then unlink your metallic rings. The third time, however, he’ll be just as bored as the rest of us. Okay, you can go now.

FIRECRACKERS
(“Zack-tar scream at us! We anger her!”):

This is sort of unfair as even modern-day people like you and I are totally frightened when a firecracker unexpectedly goes off near us. But then we have that moment of relief a second later. “Oh, right, that heart-stopping experience from a moment ago was just a firecracker. I thought for a second that it was end-times.” Not so with our grunting guy pal here. He’ll experience terror, followed by more terror … and then a mounting panic as he wonders if that thing that screeches like an avalanche—that he’s never heard before and can’t remotely identify—will happen again. And the whole time everyone’s all laughing at him and shit.

STICK
(“Tree leg.”):

Sure he had sticks in his day, but not like this. So smooth! A stick for everything. Tiny ones for spearing olives, one for making words on paper, a special one just for hitting balls! In his day, he had one stick and it had to do it all. Poke, prod, kill beasts, hiking … Show him your collection of identically smooth and well-manufactured sticks; he’ll be enthralled for hours. At some point, whack him in the neck with one of them. Mission accomplished! Stupid Grok.

HOW TO BEAT UP A GUY LISTENING TO AC/DC’S “BACK IN BLACK”

In this entry I will be able to provide you with some insider perspective, for I am a man who has listened to the AC/DC song “Back in Black.” Perhaps you have as well? Well, then you know of its power. If you are driving your car when AC/DC comes on the radio, you will instantly begin driving faster. Taking chances, swerving in and out of lanes without realizing it, while pounding in rhythm on your car’s dashboard.

It is a phenomenal song and a powerful weapon. The sound of it causes your blood to pump faster, your senses to sharpen, the aging process to slow, and, sometimes, to reverse. It is also a dangerous tool, much like a firearm or a hammer covered with smallpox. It’s so dangerous I believe it should be outlawed. Not just any yahoo should be able to play this song at their leisure. You should have to go before a judge to plead your case before being allowed to play a song as fearsome as this. You should be required to have a great reason for listening to this song.

“I want to play it while I drink beer and work on my car in the garage.”
No.

“I want to play it on the jukebox at my local bar.”
Nice try. No.

“Well … my ex-wife cheated on me for five years without my knowing about it. Then she left. After years of heartbreak and tears and disappointment, years of therapy that led nowhere, years of floundering in my life, unsure of how to set things right again, I’ve finally found the apartment of the man who slept with her for all those years. Of course, I want to beat the shit out of him. I have his address and everything. Ahem. I’d like to go over there, kick in the door, and then pummel him. And I’d like to hit play on an iPod playing “Back in Black” at full volume a second before I kick in the door.”
Permission … granted.

THAT’S how powerful this song is. Future generations will look at us and our blatant misuse of the power of this song the way we’d look at a society of people running around with shotguns for arms.

Approach your foe, the man listening to AC/DC’s “Back in Black.” Then approach the sound system currently allowing him to hear the song. Can you hear the song, too? If so, use the magic properties of the song, allowing it to boost your own strength, making the fight an even battle.

Is your adversary wearing earbuds? If so, the powerful, strength-increasing properties of the song can also be made available to you. Slap your foe in the face. Take the earbuds out of his ears, then insert them into your own. Now fight this man, tapping into the powers now available to you as you listen to AC/DC’s “Back in Black.”

After the fight, are you injured?

If you direct the sound waves of a speaker playing “Back in Black” toward the wound on your body, that wound will heal. Be careful, if you direct it to a spot with no wound, the sound will create one. It is a paradox.

HOW TO BEAT UP A MAN … WITH NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE

Yeah, you’ve heard of this guy. His name is often spoken in whispers. Or in a deep voice, during trailers to movies that I’d walk through fire to watch.
Deep Voice
: “Rupert Jenkins was a mild-mannered accountant just trying to take his innocent daughter—who never hurt a living thing, and who was innocent—to school … but they had other plans. Plans involving murder. Then they took his wife and kicked his dog before keying his classic car (he was really into classic cars, I guess) and now … he’s a man with nothing left to lose.”

The “nothing left to lose part” implies that the individual in question, having lost everything of importance to him, will go all out, take huge risks, and lay it all on the line in a fight. He’s suffered, which has hardened him into an individual who, quite frankly, does not give a fuck. The “man” part implies his gender—male, or “man”—and that he is not a female.

When you see the man with nothing left to lose portrayed in action movies he has typically lost a wife, child, partner, or all three, usually in a hail of gunfire. You can gauge the intensity of their relationship to the man, by his reaction, which can range from, furtively wiping away a lone tear before abruptly exiting, to cradling the dead person’s body, then screaming their name toward the heavens. Sometimes the word, “no,” is substituted for the name. I prefer alternating screamed bursts, first the name of the deceased, then the word, “no,” then the name, then the word, “no,” again. It just makes it clear to any latecomers on the scene that: a) someone specific has died, and b) what your reaction to it is.

“Nothing left to lose,” could be taken literally. The man could have actually lost everything, including his house, clothes, possessions, etc. He could be dressed in rags.
Who cares,
you say? Well, a seemingly trivial matter like fashion could turn out to be the difference-maker.