Punching Tom Hanks: Dropkicking Gorillas and Pummeling Zombified Ex-Presidents---A Guide to Beating Up Anything (6 page)

HOW TO BEAT UP A GUY WHO’S BEEN SHOT TWICE IN THE STOMACH AND LEFT FOR DEAD

This will truly be a test of your desire to beat up all things. It takes a certain kind of someone to stumble across a man bleeding to death from gunshot wounds, pause, and then begin punching that man. To say, “Yeah, fuck it, I’ll take what’s left of that. Thanks.” Now, this guy might have some secrets to give up—the location of top secret microfilm or something—but to be honest, he’d have probably already divulged that info during the part where he was being shot. So, other than purely sadistic reasons I can’t see why you’d need to beat this particular fellow up. But I’m not here to ask questions, I’m here to give instruction. If this is a scenario you find yourself in someday, for whatever reason, this info could save your life.

But this is gonna be some grizzly goddamn work. Unless you’re a butcher, or already a killer, this is going to be a grueling slog through nightmaresville. Oh, make no mistake, this one’s gonna haunt you. You could spend the rest of your days raising and then petting unicorns on a farm made of gumdrops and magically animated children’s crayon drawings, but you’re still gonna wake up once a week covered in sweat and begging forgiveness.

If you think the guy looks bad now, leaking red stuff like an ox that’s been hit by a paint truck, wait’ll you see the zombified version of him that’ll come to you in your dreams. Man, if he has a say in it, he’s gonna haunt the shit out of you.

We’re talking disembodied head that only you can see, screaming at you in a crowded room, in the middle of the day. Then you react and everyone thinks you’re crazy. Your boss comes over, puts a kind hand on your shoulder, and tells you maybe you’ve been working too hard. Maybe you’re not ready for the Jensen account after all …

You’re shaving, just like you do every morning, minding your own business. You open the medicine cabinet to get a razor and when you close it, there’s a horrible image awaiting you in the mirror! (It’s actually your own hideous face. But it looks extra haggard because a ghost scared you by popping out of your closet that morning.)

You’re out walking your kids on Halloween. Your friend is dressed as a ghastly looking corpse. You start talking to a corpse who you THINK is your friend, only to see your real friend walk over suddenly. Oh, my God! Someone else has the same costume as your friend. Then you have to spend the next half hour making your buddy feel better about his lame costume choice.

Can you even blame this guy for haunting you? Put yourself in his shoes. He’s been laying here for an hour or so, praying for death’s sweet release. Suddenly you come along. He’s like, “Oh, thank God, maybe he’ll bring me a glass of water, or stroke my hair and tell me stories about his loving wife until death comes … Wait—WHAT? Why is he—” Yeah. And then you start walloping on him.

Sigh.
Here we go, I guess. The first thing you should do is rush up to him under the guise of helping him. You’re not. You tell him you need to see the wounds, but you’re actually checking to see if he’s got a gun on him. He could’ve gotten a shot or two off before his attackers did him in. I’m guessing he missed, since you didn’t step over any bodies on your way to this guy. But he wouldn’t miss you, not at this range. Check the area around him. Then when you open his jacket, check the inside pocket for a bulge that could be a pistol. While attending to him, let your forearm brush over his pants pocket. You should be able to tell if he’s got a gun there. Don’t let your arm linger, that could tip it. Just a casual brush over, then move on. All clear?

At this point he’ll ask you: “
Koff!
How does it look?
Koff! Koff!
” If you’re really set on doing this, and are a proponent of the “Any job worth doing is worth doing well” school, you’ll say the following, after looking into his eyes: “It looks … bad.” After saying, “bad,” count one Mississippi in your head (Don’t mouth it either, you simpleton. Try to act like you’ve done this before.), and then punch him in the wound.

Oh, man, is he gonna scream out in mind-bending amounts of pain. It might even catch you off guard, that’s how loud it’s gonna be. You ever crush a cat’s tail under a rocking chair? You’ll want to call that memory up right now, to cleanse your pallet of this one, that’s how bad it’ll be. Like he’s screaming, relieving himself in the john after a long car trip, and crying, all at once.

Forget the wound and just punch him in the head. When you’ve gotten your fill, stop. It’s done. You beat up a defenseless man, proud of yourself? The only other concern you could have at this point is guys coming back to finish the job. If they do, pull the old, “Oh, no you don’t, HE’S MINE” routine.

For the record, years from now, when the woman you love catches you in a lie, and screams out, “I don’t know who you are anymore! It’s like I’ve been living with some stranger!” this is the image of yourself you’re gonna pull up.

Good luck!

HOW TO BEAT UP A GUY WITH A BROKEN HEART

Wow, you don’t give a guy a fucking break, huh? Do you really want to kick a guy when he’s down? Of course you do. That’s when his head is nearest to your foot. You barely have to move it. It’s like maybe eighteen inches from point of origin to point of contact with that noggin. Do it.

Fighting a guy with a broken heart gives you an instant edge. Knowledge of his recent emotional woes will allow you to hit him at will in a vulnerable area he has no way of protecting. An enemy can block a kick, but he cannot block a muttered reference to having seen his ex canoodling with some new guy at the mall. Basically, you’re in possession of your foe’s emotional kryptonite. Use it wisely. To annihilate him.

Hide the fact that you have this kryptonite until you need it most. Then, strike suddenly and without mercy. As he moves in preparing to attack you, under your breath use a made-up word that sounds vaguely like the name of his ex. If her name is “Stacy” say something like, “Bacy.” If he’s holding a weapon, he’ll drop it suddenly. He’ll look at you with suspicious, hurt, eyes. “What did you say?” he’ll inquire. When you clarify that you merely used a different word than the one he’d thought he heard—a word he hadn’t slept with, given three years of his life to, and then discovered in bed with another man—he’ll recover and attempt to hit you again.

This time just utter a mysterious and out of context, “She’s dating again.” He will freeze like a deer who has just been told its ex is dating again.

If he’s picked up his weapon, he’ll drop it again. “What did you say?” he’ll ask, just barely holding back the ocean of wet, hot tears threatening to engulf his seeing orbs. “Oh, no, nothing,” you’ll offer. He’ll relax, just a bit. A nearly imperceptible exhalation, a drooping of the shoulders. The moment this happens you hit him with this: “Wait, didn’t you used to go out with Stacy?”

He won’t say a word, but his body will offer up all the answer you’ll need. Proceed. “It’s just that I ran into her last night, at a thing. She looked great. Really great. Did she used to model? Well, she could have. Also, the guy she was with looked like one, and they tend to pair up, so … She had a new ring, too. A big diamond one on her right finger. Anyway, she looked amazing, have I mentioned that? Although, it could’ve just been the huge smile on her face. She never used to smile, why is that? I mean this was a serious, glowing, contented fill-up-a-whole-room smile you know? Like how the Dalai Lama does it, or those guys who’ve just won the Super Bowl, like that.”

The stream of questions that will now pour out of him will seemingly have no end. Each question will lead into the next, managing to get more urgent and more nonsensical as he goes: “How do you know that? You saw her? Who are you? She said she wasn’t ready for anything—is it you, you son-of-a—has she said anything about me? Am I capable of being loved? Will being alive always have to hurt so much?”

Indulge him for as long as it continues to amuse you. When you’re done, hit him with one more hurtful line: “She probably just hates life’s losers, not you specifically. Just what you represent and failed to accomplish during your time on Earth.” Then when you’re done talking to him, just slap him around until he runs off. You’re basically beating up the tattered, empty husk of what was once a man. This is why you should never open yourself up to anyone, ever, for any reason. Try to keep your heart like that flying sphere with the blades in it from
Phantasm
.

HOW TO BEAT UP A MAN ON THE RUN FROM THE LAW OUT TO CLEAR HIS NAME

The line, “He’s good … real good,” will always be the best line in whatever movie it’s uttered. That or, “This guy’s a real pro.” Both those lines are mostly about the guy you’re about to fight. He was framed, stripped of everything he’s ever cared about, and then cornered. Instead of giving up—like you or I would’ve—he ran. He ran in a nearly hopeless attempt to clear his own name and return to the people he loves. C’mon! That takes balls. I mean, forget about the danger involved, just from a sheer workload standpoint it’s crazy.

Have you ever seen someone try to clear their name in a movie? IT LOOKS EXHAUSTING. Hour upon hour of reading, usually done in dusty libraries. The Internet makes that easier I guess, but who wants to be online that long? He’s gotta spend like eight hours doing research on top of what he already logs on blogs and Twitter and whatever else he’s into? Plus there are microfilms to compare, photos to develop in subpar conditions, people to talk to. People who don’t want to talk and try to shut the door on you … Ugh, who needs it?!? This guy, that’s who. He’s a regular workhorse. Here’s how you make that work all for naught.

Your first move after locating the man is to call him by his given name. This will throw him off. He won’t believe you were able to see through his clever “shave beard, then frantically cut and dye hair in a dingy motel bathroom,” strategy. “But, I can’t be Greg; Greg has brown hair and mine is recently bleached. Plus, he had a beard!” he’ll say. You might be able to trick him by pausing a moment, before asking, “Greg?” again. If he instinctively answers, “Yes?” he’ll drop the façade, and you’ll have won a tiny moral victory. If not, move on, it’s not important.

Step two is acting like a cop. No need to rent a patrolman’s uniform or stripper cop costume. A simple conservative-looking outfit, like a detective would wear, will suffice. Use the word, “sir,” when speaking to him, but like you kind of hate him at the same time you’re saying it. Try to channel that tone a cop uses when he catches you betting on hobo races. Like that.

You’re trying to trick him into thinking you’re a cop so he’ll waste energy shouting at you, in an attempt to get you to hear him out, instead of preparing a counterattack for the thunder you’re about to rain down. “You’ve got to believe me … I’m telling you, you’re after the wrong man. Bronson Corporation was using cancer to make children’s cribs and I was on to them!” he’ll be crying. Little does he know, however, that you’re actually just here to kick his ass and have zero interest in his overly complicated affairs. But he’ll know soon enough.

If he’s got a manila folder filled with paperwork that he urgently wants to show you, tell him you don’t know how to read. Then, chuckle, tell him you’re “just effing with him,” and take the folder. Dump it out a second floor window. This will shatter his will. All that wasted work and effort. All those shadowy, parking garage interactions with deadbeats, all that running … Oh, the running. Holy shit, I hope he likes running. Did you know that nipple bleeding is more common among those attempting to clear their name than it is among marathon runners? It might be true.

There are two kinds of innocents out to clear their names:

1.
The hapless nobody who found himself in the middle of forces greater than he was, who unwittingly stumbled onto a secret and then showed heretofore unknown levels of resourcefulness.

2.
Amnesia-stricken killing machines with ice in their veins.

Obviously one of these poses a greater risk than the other.

If he’s the former, skip to the next paragraph. If he’s the latter, well, you’re in for a rough night. But you do have a chance. You need to somehow cause the man to experience flashbacks to his traumatic past. These will hit him like lightning, revealing to him grainy bits of memory chopped up and out of context. A scream here, an underwater struggle there, you know the drill … This won’t be easy, but it can be done. Start by shouting random words. Use the information he tried to show you earlier as a jumping off point. “We know what you did to him,” could work. “They shouldn’t have done what they did,” is a nice, vague statement that shows him you’re on his side and forces him to think about whatever it was they did. Did “they” dump chemicals into a river and then try to drown him in it? Possibly … Did they build a line of playground equipment out of asbestos and lead paint? Could be … Once he starts freaking out, jump him. He’ll be kind of out of it, so you’ll be able to get a few shots in. Even if you can’t finish him, you’ll do a lot of damage.

Now that you’ve softened up the killing machine (or merely engaged the hapless innocent), here’s the good news. HE IS IN ABSOLUTELY NO CONDITION TO FIGHT YOU. He’s barely getting by, stressed out, paranoid, and he’s been coasting on fumes for weeks. Sure, he’s got the strength to continue his mission, but a street fight? No way. He’ll break down almost instantly. He’ll have been eating shitty gas station snack foods for days. (You know what Doritos are good for? The answer isn’t “fueling the human body.”) His back will be weakened from crappy motel room beds. It’ll be over before it starts.

After you knock him out, maybe you’ll feel like turning over all his data to the authorities, so he can clear his name. But it’s up to you, I don’t care one way or the other.

HOW TO BEAT UP A VEGAN WHILE WEARING MEAT GLOVES

This entry might raise an eyebrow or two and rightfully so. This technique, though effective under the right circumstances, is the epitome of a one-trick pony maneuver and is not advisable under most situations. It is a legitimate tactic and it has its place, but be aware of the risks and limitations going in. The meat gloves in no way enhance your offensive capabilities; they are merely there to taunt your opponent. If you think your vegan foe is out of your league without the gloves, do not attempt to fight them with the gloves.