Sunday, May 11, 2014

Godzilla's Top 5 Smash Hits

With the new Godzilla movie quickly approaching, many questions come to mind. How much does Godzilla pee? How/why does Godzilla keep getting bigger? After how many Godzilla movies will my parents kick me out of their basement? I’ll allow smarter people to answer those questions. I will respond to a quite simpler one. Which of the 28 official Godzilla movies to date (yes, that’s more than James Bond) should I actually watch?


Here’s my top five(-ish) epically destructive Godzilla smash hits.


5. Godzilla: Final Wars/Destroy All Monsters


At five, I have a tie between two monster mash-ups. If you’re looking for nothing but pure city-crumbling mayhem then these are the movies you want. Forget story and characterization, these two films are about giant monsters punching each other in their ugly, ugly faces or face-like appendages. And really, if you’re watching a Godzilla movie, isn’t that what you’re really hoping to see?


The plot (term used loosely here) of both films involve aliens unleashing monsters to destroy Earth. Because… ALIENS.


Godzilla: Final Wars (2004) is mostly an homage to previous Godzilla movies where Godzilla fights the entire TOHO monsters’ gallery. My favorite scene has Godzilla owning the American version of Godzilla (called ‘Zilla here) in mere seconds. Many fans of the Godzilla series like this film due to the fact it brings back so many favorite monsters, and for a Godzilla film, the special effects are pretty good-- again, the key phrase being “for a Godzilla film”. This film ended the third series (the Millenium era) of Godzilla movies.


Destroy All Monsters (1968) is fondly remembered by lovers of the first run of Godzilla movies as the first movie to incorporate all the favorite monsters up until that time. Before Final Wars, this was the must-see Godzilla film for pure monster-on-monster action. You’ll prefer this one to Final Wars if you dig the Godzilla films for their cheesiness and antiquated effects.

PWNED!


4. Godzilla Vs. Destroyah


Godzilla Vs. Destroyah is mostly notable for the fact that it contains the “death” of Godzilla. This movie ends the second series of Godzilla films, the Heisei era. In it, Godzilla has a condition in which he is ultimately going to combust due to an internal nuclear meltdown. And I thought kidney stones were bad…


Until the moment of Godzilla’s death, however, his powers become “super-charged” which conveniently allows for a set of skyscraper-flattening altercations with the man-made nightmare, Destroyah, which keeps mutating into worse and worse incarnations. What sets this movie apart is its willingness to actually “kill” Godzilla. There’s nothing quite like watching one of your childhood icons die after an act of self-sacrifice, even if he does die by disintegrating into glitter dust.


And now for a quick dance break...




3. Godzilla Vs. King Ghidorah/ Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster

Okay, so I cheated again by allowing a tie. Like my #5 ranking, it really depends on personal preference which of these films ones likes best.


Ghidorah, the Three Monster (1964) introduces Godzilla’s toughest opponent, a three-headed golden dragon who flies and spits lightning. Also, it’s an alien. This was the first film which allowed Godzilla to fight for the forces of good, or at least, not solely against mankind. In fact, it includes a conversation between Mothra, Rodan, and Godzilla (translated by Mothra’s tiny fairy twin-friends) in which Godzilla and Rodan agree they couldn’t care less which happens to humans. At one point during the translation, the twins exclaim, “Godzilla, what terrible language!” For some reason, the idea that Godzilla cusses like a sailor really appeals to me. Anyway, Mothra convinces the other monsters to agree to a truce, and the terrifying trio defeat Ghidorah in one of the most innovative and wild battles of the Godzilla series.


Godzilla Vs. King Ghidorah (1991) boasts better effects and an attempt to explain the origin of Godzilla. Also, it throws in time travel for good measure. Because… ALIENS. The film is interesting and different while still offering some sweet Godzilla/Ghidorah carnage. Because if there’s one thing better than Ghidorah, it’s Mecha-King Ghidorah. As a Godzilla fan, Godzilla Vs. King Ghidorah is hard not to like and probably the best of the Heisei era films. Interesting side note, in the 1944 sequence young Godzilla only kills Americans, allowing the Japanese soldiers to escape. The scene led some to question if the film were anti-American, but the filmmakers claimed this was not the case.   

Drop kick!



2. Mothra Vs. Godzilla


Mothra Vs. Godzilla (1968) was considered a special effects marvel at the time of its release. That’s a little hard to believe now, but compare it to pretty much any other sci-fi movie made in 1968 or before that time, and you can color yourself impressed.


Mothra attempts to stop the unstoppable force, to move the immovable object, that is Godzilla. This is more or less the plot of the entire movie. It is the special effects and decent performances from the human characters that tends to place this movie in the upper echelon of Godzilla films.


Another interesting aspect is that Mothra fails. Godzilla kills her, and it is Mothra’s children who hatch from her egg that finally topple Godzilla at the end of the film. It’s a bit like Psycho in that the character (in this case a giant moth and not Janet Leigh) whom you expect to be the hero actually dies halfway through the film. And that only makes me think about how amazing a Godzilla film directed by Alfred Hitchcock could have been!


1. Gojira

This is a no brainer. With Godzilla, the first is the best. Gojira was a frightening film at the time of its release and a surreal metaphor for the nuclear holocaust which Japan had experienced at the end of WWII. Gojira embodies everything man fears and that which man cannot control-- nature at its most savage; nature turning man’s hubris upon himself. Simply awesome in the truest sense of the word.


I think Godzilla said it best:


And now excuse me, but I must be going...



Wednesday, May 7, 2014

(Hot) Wing & a Prayer pt. 1

This Mistake Sandwich is part of the (Hot) Wing & a Prayer series...

*a funky boogy-woogy riff plays, then slowly fades out as the black screen fades in*
*a camera, aerial view, slowly pans groundward toward the grounds of a curious looking manor*
*shot from above, cut to a low-to-the-ground shot from the long driveway and gate. The gate opens and a car horn beeps out a "high. way. to. the. dan-ger zone" rhythm. A '57 Chevy speeds past the camera, kicking up dust, the driver's frosty, snow white hair the only part of him visible. The sign above the gate reads "Fieri Manor."

SCENE: (later) FIERI MANOR. THE MASTER BEDROOM. Pickle-green shag carpet. A dresser along one wall, as well as an utterly ludicrous chaise longue, yellow-red-yellow, designed to resemble a hot dog. There is also a wardrobe, with one of its doors lazily left ajar. In the wardrobe are rows and rows of identical, black and red, flame-motif button-up shirts. The bed--meant to resemble the '57 Chevy from earlier--is large; king-size plus. It's a big, 4-post affair; the top, supported by the posts, is clearly meant to resemble that thing that people park their cars under at a drive in diner. Tossed on the bed is a pair of dark blue jeans and one of the shirts along with a pair of probably stained briefs*

(from offscreen) Aaaaaah....

*camera pans past the bed, around a corner, and into the bathroom*
*The toilet is pretty normal, albeit painted with flames*
*The sink and shower, while fancy, are pretty average*
*Pan past the car-motif bathtub, to an in-floor hot-tub. GUY FIERI, looking weary from his long day of appetizer picking and finger licking, sinks slowly into the hot tub full of bubbling hot marinara sauce*

GUY: AAaaaaaaaah...that's the stuff. Nothing like a good soak. I'm just beat. But, still...things're lookin' up for Fieri! I should just unwind, relax and wait for fortune to float by and say hi...(GUY whistles) Here, Steak-Frites! Here, boy!

(Enter STEAK-FRITES, GUY'S bichon-frise. The dog pants happily, and wears a miniature keg on its collar, reminiscent of the classic Swiss alps rescue St. Bernard)

GUY: Good boy, Steak-Frites!

(GUY reaches out beside the tub, grabbing a martini glass, then reaches over to STEAK-FRITES's collar keglette, turning a small knob. He fills the martini glass with what appears to be steak sauce. He takes a sip)

GUY: Aah...(sips again, more deeply)

(Exit STEAK-FRITES)

*GUY sinks further into the bubbling hot tub of marinara. His right hand darts out of the hot tub, seizing a remote control. He presses a button and the musical stylings of Creed fill his bathroom. His left hand darts out seizing a jalapeno popper off a sterling silver tray piled high with the things. He dips it into the marinara in the hot tub and eats it, chewing loudly. His cell phone rings. He picks it up, flips it open and answers...*

GUY: (annoyed) Hello...? Yeah...? Well, yeah....I already--What? No, no it's fine........yeah.....Yes, I HAVE it. YES, it's safe. NO, they don't know. Listen, man, you're really shaving my scrote here (he noisily gobbles another jalapeno popper)...Hey, shitsack, I was Food Network's DARLING, okay? I'm very well-connected in the foods game...(petulantly, chewing) I don't need your SHIT right now.

*CUT*

SCENE: (Night.) A city scape. An imposing ground-view shot of a foreboding skyscraper. Lit up, in red, across the top of the building are the letters "TOTINOCORP." Cut to the inside of a large, slickly appointed office, in front of a large, black desk. The man seated at the desk wears a suit, but is mostly obscured by the back of another suited man, standing in front of him*

(a phone is hung up)

SEATED MAN (his voice is low and rough): There's been a security breach...we need to figure out when, who and why. You know what to do...

*STANDING MAN nods, exits the frame, as SEATED MAN turns around in his chair*

*CUT*
*Feet descending stairs. A hand turning a door knob. STANDING MAN from behind again, walking briskly down a long, well lit hall way. Cut to a chest-up shot of STANDING MAN walking down a hallway. He wears dark sunglasses, a gunmetal grey business suit and black tie, and a stony expression. On his TotinoCorp nametag, attached to his lapel, it reads, "JRG."*

*JRG opens a door at the end of the hall, enters. Cut to another chest-up shot of JRG, his suit jacket is off, now, and he's been reading through files and logs, and poring over hours of security tape.*

JRG: ....shit.

*JRG pulls a cigarette from a shirt pocket, a lighter from a pants pocket, and lights up*

*CUT*

 SCENE: *(Day) The storefront style windows of some grease-pile, shit-cadaver restaurant somewhere. GUY stands frontal view in front of the camera, talking to it*

GUY: ...that about does it for this week's episode of Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives. Be sure to roll out with us again next week, when we go troooollin' around downtown Des Moines (he mispronounces Des Moines) for a taste of lovely Iowa's best Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives!!

(from offscreen, a young woman's voice) CUT! Okay, that's a wrap!

(Enter YOLANDA, the director/producer of GUY'S television show, as well as his agent. She is pretty, with green eyes and orange-red hair. She wears a navy blue women's business suit and carries a clipboard full of papers) 
(YOLANDA walks over to GUY, removes his black/silver flames shirt, revealing one of the black/red ones from before underneath, and hands him a bottle of water. GUY chugs it)

GUY: Nailed it? Nailed it. A-gain. CHA-ching.

YOLANDA: Well, it was good. I mean, it'll do. It wasn't bad for a 13th take...

GUY: (rolls his eyes and gives her a "so done with it" look): Whatever, we can take care of it in editing...

(one of the set crew hurries up to GUY, offers up a tray of of honey-teriyaki wings. GUY snags three, between his surprisingly agile bratwurst fingers. Another crew hand hurries up behind GUY, tying a bib around his neck. GUY begins devouring the wings)

YOLANDA: That's...not really how editing wor--

GUY: (cutting her off): --Sure, sure. Look, I appreciate what you do, 'Landa, babe. But, listen--YOU'RE the brains. I'M the artist. You gotta give me my freedom to create, girl!

YOLANDA: (annoyed) You're half right, I suppose...

GUY: So. Everything's lined up for next season, right? The Food Network suits are coming around?

YOLANDA: Weeell...Guy, we should really talk about that...

GUY: Right. Good. I knew they would. They may be pretty thick but--(he gobbles and wing and "glumps" out the rest of the line)--even they know the sound of a golden egg hatchin'.

YOLANDA: Guy, they--

GUY:--Hey...I like that. "...know the sound of a golden egg hatchin'." Write that down, I wanna use it next season.

(Exit GUY)

(YOLANDA sighs loudly, looking utterly exasperated and tosses her clip board across the room)

*CUT*


SCENE: Back in SEATED MAN'S OFFICE in the TotinoCorp building. SEATED MAN is, once again seated in his high backed, black leather chair, behind his desk, facing away from the camera. JRG Stands in front of the desk. Cut to an on-desk view of JRG.

JRG: I spent almost a whole day going over files about the incident and yards of security tape. I think I know who took the secret pizza roll recipe...

SEATED MAN: ......(menacingly) I'm waiting.....

JRG: (unfazed): Guy Fieri...

SEATED MAN: What?! FIERI!? That Food Channel Flannel Flunky!? Why would he even be IN this building!?

JRG: I believe Fieri was working for hidden interests. The breach probably occurred when he was in town filming his "Sultans of Snackin': The Truth Behind Your Freezer Aisle Favorites" special recently.

SEATED MAN: Hmm. Makes sense, I suppose...We HAVE to get that secret pizza roll recipe BACK!

JRG: Of course, sir.

SEATED MAN: I'm putting you in charge of this task. Assemble a team of operatives of your own choosing. Bring that recipe back to the TotinoCorp vault before it's leaked to the public, or another company. As for Fieri? Do what you have to.

JRG: (momentary pause)...Yes, sir.

*CUT to the outside of the TotinoCorp building, again at night, the big TOTINOCORP sign an angry red stab wound in the black, purple sky. Menacing but intense music plays as a garage door on the basement level opens and two sleek, black cars speed out, up a ramp, onto the street, screeching away*

*CUT to a beach scene, daytime. GUY's sitting in a director-style chair, wearing swim trunks, his flabby form set free on nationwide television. His man tits are slathered in a thin coating of some sauce or other, and he has two corn dogs gripped in each hand. On his face he wears flame-pattern shades and the smuggest of grins. The Boogy-Woogy music from before plays*

GUY: (wolfs left hand corn dogs in single bite, galumphs out the line) Sho that about wrapsh it up for thish epishode of *GULP* Diners, DRIVE-INS...and DIVES! Thanks for hanging out with us in Tallahassee! Join us next week in Milwaukee for a CHEESE FAIR TO REMEMBER!

YOLANDA: CUT! Alright. Good job, Guy. (she glances at his sauce stained, globe shaped form) Sorta...Look, about the network--

GUY: (slathering the sauce around his saggy male fatbreasts and his shitty gut) Hey, Landa? Do you think this teriyaki glaze has any sunblocking properties? Like, what's the SPF of teriyaki, do you think?

YOLANDA: ...Um. Guy, this is important. Stop fooling around, we have to--

GUY: (wipes a finger across his belly, gathering some sauce, sticks it in his mouth and removes finger with an exaggerated POP) That's it! That's my next merchandising line! Guy Fieri's Backyard BBQ Sunblock line!

YOLANDA: (glancing at some of the crew as they head over to a cabana bar) Uuuumm...

GUY: We could offer them in TWO different SPFs and FOUR different flavors! YEAH! Who needs a BUSINESS degree anyway!? This marketing stuff is a snap!

CREW MEMBER: (off-screen, from a distance). Give it up, Yo! Ol' Sidepork's out to lunch! Come have a daiquiri!

GUY: SPF 30 and SPF 45. Yeah. And theeeen...Nacho Cheese No-Burnz. Blue Cheese Burn Block. Ranch Style Ray Shield. Aaaaaand....hmmm...Laze n' Blaze BBQ! I'm a genius!

YOLANDA: (glances over toward bar, then back at GUY, throws clipboard into the air, papers scatter everywhere). MIKE, ORDER ME A STRAWBERRY!

(exit YOLANDA.)

*BACKGROUND: GUY continues wiping sauce off of his body and licking it from his mozza-stick fingers in the background. FOREGROUND: view of JRG and two black-suited operatives from behind, at a table on the beach, watching GUY...*



This is the end of the first installment of (Hot) Wing & a Prayer. Check back soon for part 2!













Friday, April 18, 2014

The Hunger Video-Games

Note: The fictional characters mentioned are the intellectual property of others. I am merely making fun of them.
Level 20— Boss Battle


Lara Croft’s 34-24-35, 64-bit body felt like a discordant symphony of creaky joints, sore muscles, and aching, pulsing throbs of pain. Even her braid hurt. With one hand, she held the murmuring knot that she called a stomach. She knew she had to eat something and soon. As if in answer to this thought, a patch of red-topped, white-spotted mushrooms appeared on the opposite side of the rotting log over which she was clambering. Lara could have cried, she was so relieved. And so hungry. So very hungry.
 
Mentally flipping through her survivalist knowledge, Lara took note of the giant fungi. She’d been around the world from the sunken ruins of Atlantis to the decrepit tomb of King Arthur, slaughtering henchmen the entire way. She’d out artifact-hunted Nathan Drake, out pit-falled that guy from Pitfall, and she’d even partied with Kirby once. That last one had ended badly. She’d hopped on Yoshi for a joyride down Rainbow Road and somehow ended up nude, smoking Resident Evil Red ‘erbs on the top of Choco Mountain. The point was she’d seen things and shot a whole lot more things and she knew her ‘shrooms. These were not of the toxic or even (sadly) hallucinogenic strains. These mushrooms were the kind meant for eating, and Croft’s grumbling stomach told her to do just that.

As she rooted the toadstools from the dirt, she considered the futility of her predicament. Only four days ago, there had been thirteen of them, thirteen contestants in the evil dictator Ganandorf’s sadistic tournament. Each gaming genre had offered one of its best and brightest to compete with each other to “game over”— until there was only one champion left on his (or her, if Lara had anything to say about it) feet. 
Lara imagined herself on the stands, the gold cup spinning over her head, showering her with multi-colored confetti as the faceless crowds showered her with their applause. Surprisingly, the image held no appeal for her, but this was what she was fighting for. Winner-take-all. The second and third place spots would be held by the dead.

Speaking of which, Lara reviewed the death toll in her head.

The first battle had claimed the most lives. At the start of the game, the contestants found themselves in a digital-Mexican standoff, and they wasted no time. Killing came naturally to all of them. Or make that most of them.

Paperboy died first. The youngster found himself face-to-face with Scorpion from Mortal Kombat and dueled with him the only way Paperboy knew how. By throwing newspapers. 
Mildly perturbed, Scorpion said, “Seriously, dude? Newspapers?” Then he yelled, “Get over here!” Scorpion also had a skill at throwing weapons. Only he threw spears. This one went through Paperboy’s head. Scorpion’s attack proved more deadly.

From there, things spiraled to an MA rating.

Star Fox had jumped into the fray and had quickly cornered Scorpion with his laser blaster. Rather than be taken alive or allow a foe to better him, Scorpion committed sepukku in a singular way. “Finish… ME!” he demanded of himself. Scorpion then reached into his throat and pulled out his own spine.
Claude— honestly, Lara had been surprised to discover that guy even had a name— , the voiceless protagonist from Grand Theft Auto III, unleashed a barrage from an AK-47 he had randomly found lying on the ground. Star Fox returned fire, catching the Claude in the chest. Lara understood that Claude had eventually bled out as he could not find a hooker to nurse him back to health.

“Truce! Truce!” Lara had cried. “The only way to beat this game is to beat the makers at their own game! By not playing!”

Just when the puzzled contestants had nearly figured out what she was trying to say, Ganandorf unleashed Bowser upon them. The fire-breathing dino-monstrosity roared; the ground shook; and Lara wondered how that hopping plumber Mario had ever bested it.  

“I’ll hold it back!” Ryu shouted. In the midst of Ryu’s Z-formation in preparation to unleash his dreaded Shoryuken dragon punch, a scorching wave of flame burst from Bower’s dripping, fanged mouth and consumed the hapless kung fu fighter in orange fire. Ryu’s mortal screams followed the surviving contestants as they fled into the surrounding woods. Lara chanced a glance over her shoulder, only to see Bower devour Ryu whole in two bone-crunching gulps. 
“Why couldn’t they just attribute that signature move to a single button?” the hero Link lamented to Lara’s right, fired a defensive arrow towards Bowser, and disappeared into the deepening shadows of foliage. Lara hadn’t seen him since.

The dying didn’t stop with Bowser.

Although they had shared a pact, Pac-Man bleeped himself out of existence that evening. He had been haunted by the ghosts of his past for many years, and apparently, they had caught up to him. Desperate to escape his tortured memories, Pac-Man overdosed on pills.
Lara was ashamed at how she had initially reacted. She’d thought: One less giant, yellow mouth to feed.

Star Fox, although an early favorite, caught a glitch, probably from exploring too close to the level’s edges. Fox helplessly spun in circles until one of the game-makers was forced to reset him. This was as good as a death sentence since Fox’s progress had not been saved, a tragic way to go.

Others perished from natural in-game causes. Against his better judgement, Dig Dug ate a radish he had dig-dugged. The poison took its time. Dig Dug’s dying dig-dug-dragged for days. His initial screams had matched Ryu’s for intensity, but his final death rattle went unheard. Luckily, Dug had saved everyone some trouble and buried himself before dying.
At dawn the next morning, Earthworm Jim had been eaten by a gigantic Blue Jay. Apparently, the late Jim had not been knowledgeable about the old saying about the early bird.
Pikachu got pika-fried when he pooped a lightening bolt while standing in a stream. Lara had seen to it that the little guy had not died in vain. He  still lived inside of her. Or at least until her next bowel movement.
Her mind returning to the present, Lara stacked her mushrooms into a fungal pyramid and thought, Just four left. Me, Sonic, Link, and…

BA-DOING!

“Oh, no!” Lara cried and moved to grab her stack of mushrooms. Super Mario promptly landed atop them, smashing every last one to bits.
“It’s-a me! Mario!” Mario announced.

“No kidding. And you just killed my dinner,” Lara growled and motioned towards the destroyed mushrooms.

“So sorry! But it’s-a what I do!”

Lara took out her twin pistols and shot Mario in the face.

“And that’s what I do,” she said, smoke snaking from the end of her guns.

Retrieving the pistols from the secret chest in the underground catacombs in the ruins of the ancient pyramid on the lost island/dormant volcano that Ganandorf had chosen for the games had not been easy, but it was times like these that Lara was glad to have passed the level. With a time bonus, even.

A blue blur buzzed past her, missed her face by inches, sent her hair dancing, and knocked the guns out of her grip. For her part, Lara stumbled backward, lost her footing, and fell on her butt. Her teeth came together with an audible crunch, and as sight returned, she could taste blood seeping in her mouth.

The blur came to sudden stop. Sonic the Hedgehog appraised her, then grinned. He said, “So I take it that the truce is off?”
Lara spat a mouthful of blood into the dirt. She replied, “With Bowser unleashed, we’re already walking rotisseries, so any truces are null and void.” She wiped her mouth with her wrist. Then she added, “But honestly, I only killed Mario because he’s a total a-hole.”

Sonic nodded. “Yeah, I tried karting with him once. My rear is still sore from all the shells that jerk shot up it.”

“So we cool?” Lara said, raising her eyebrows. She chanced a glance at her pistols. They were a few feet away, but maybe if she caught Sonic off guard…

Sonic scratched his chin with one white-gloved hand. His blue spikes stood tall and hairy on his head. “Actually,” he said, “speaking of Bowser, I’m going to need your guns.”

Lara knew she’d never beat him. Sonic was too fast, maybe the fastest hedgehog she’d ever met. But she also knew she had to try. Lara sprang towards her weapons, her hands outstretched, but she was right. Sonic was too fast.

Sonic spun in a manic blur, snatched the guns off the ground in a heartbeat, unraveled himself in the next heartbeat, and stood with the guns aimed at Lara before the third heartbeat had ended.

Lara raised her hands over her head though it would do no good. She was dead.

“Game ove…” THWAP! Sonic’s one-liner caught in his throat. The pistols dropped from the hedgehog’s twitching hands. A newly-grown appendage protruded from one oversized eye, and as Sonic flew backwards in a final explosion of gold coins…
...Lara recognized the protrusion as an arrow.

Lara didn’t care to be taken by surprise again, although she knew the arrow could belong only to one other character. She somersaulted towards her guns, snatched them up mid-roll, and came up on her feet, aiming them in the direction from which the arrow had flown.

“Don’t shoot. I’m on your side,” a familiar voice intoned. Link climbed carefully down a large, leafy tree where his green outfit had camouflaged him. 
Lara kept her pistols directed at the pointy-eared archer. She said, “Why?”

Link stopped. He stared at her and said, “Love.”

“What? Are you high?”

“I’ve been in love with you since the first Tomb Raider. Something’s always drawn me to you.” He offered a roguish smile. “I think it might be the short shorts.”

Lara considered his words. She replied, “Interesting. I never really found you attractive until the second half of the Ocarina of Time.”

Link shrugged. “I get that a lot.”

Lara lowered the guns but asked a loaded question, “What about Zelda?”

The green clad, elf-like hero scoffed, shaking his head. His smile morphed into a rueful frown, and he said, “How many times have I saved Princess Zelda? Four? Five? And she never seems to remember who I am. Once, she forgot my name before the game even ended. Right after I saved her! I’ve got to tell you, unrequited love is overrated. I think it’s safe to say I am totally over Zelda and her proclivity for amnesia.”

“As far as a relationship is concerned, I make no promises,” Lara stated, “but for now, I will hold off on shooting you.”

“That sounds like the start of a beautiful relationship,” Link said. He slung his bow across one shoulder. He dug into a pouch on his belt and proffered two meaty mushrooms. “Dinner?”

Lara tensed, half-expecting a Ba-Doing to resound through the small clearing, but when it didn’t, she took a mushroom and a big bite. She thought, They must be saving Luigi for the sequel.

The choice which lay before them seemed obvious. Either kill each other and end up a soulless puppet paraded for the masses as MegaMan, Kratos, and Samus Aran had been before them, or kill Ganandorf and end the games once and for all. The games had been such a roaring success for the forces of evil that Ganandorf had taken to calling himself “The Game Master” and later, “Game-andorf” for short. Ganandorf had called himself many names over the years, but Link deemed this the worst moniker yet. Although she was no expert, Lara felt inclined to agree. In any case, if they could kill the Ganandorf then the deaths of their colleagues would be avenged, or at least as well as you could avenge the deaths of people (and hedgehogs) you had killed yourself. Most importantly, no one else would have to suffer the games.

Link drew a map in the dirt with a broken branch. In its center, he drew an X. He explained, “The Game Master resides at the top of a castle’s tallest tower located at the center of the island.”

“Of course, he does,” Lara said. “There’s always a castle. And there’s always a tower.” 
“And I’m basically Peter Pan meets Robin Hood. Don’t think too deeply into any of this stuff, and don’t be too critical of its originality,” Link advised. “Or you might as well start calling yourself Indiana Jane.”

Lara nodded. “You’re right. It’s a video game, not Shakespeare.”

Link grimaced. He said, “Who’s Shakespeare?” 

When Lara just gaped at him, Link shrugged it off. He scratched a small B next to the X. “Bowser will be outside of the castle tower. Your job will be to distract him as I scale the tower and take out Ganandorf. Any questions?”

Lara scanned the dirt map. It consisted of a rectangle with an X at its center and a smaller B beside the X. Lara looked towards Link and said, “This is pretty simple stuff. Did you really need to draw it?”

Link sighed. “Sorry. I’m basically useless without a game guide.”
Soon after, they crept in stealth mode to the center of the island. The two heroes came to a break in the trees, and their breath caught in their throat. Despite its clichéd nature, Lara colored herself impressed. Ganandorf’s gothic castle loomed over them like an unspoken threat, its long shadow casting them in a darkness as foreboding as any creature out of Silent Hill. Black clouds surrounded the peak of the tallest tower; they flickered with promises of lightning. Lara couldn’t help but think of Pikachu, and her stomach grumbled.   

Something else grumbled. Then rumbled. Then roared.

“Bowser,” Link breathed. The enormous lizard came into sight as he rounded a corner of the castle. Plumes of smoke curled from his nostrils, an omen of the furnace which burned furiously within. His serpent’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips in hunger. A spiked shell covered his back, a thicker armor than any arrow or bullet could hope to penetrate. 
Lara tried to keep her hands from shaking but failed. How was she supposed to distract that scaled monstrosity? Again, she had a hard time believing that Mario ever found an advantage over such an intimidating, dangerous foe. Perhaps Bowser found it amusing to toy with the mustachioed plumber, the way a cat might play with a mouse before ripping its arms off and devouring it. She could think of no other explanation. Unless mustaches were Bowser’s secret weakness? Lara had no mustache. Neither did Link for that matter.

“I’ll have to go for his eyes,” Lara decided aloud, resting her hands on the butts of her holstered pistols. It’d be a challenge but not impossible. Just improbable. Chances were that Bowser would be picking her out of his teeth come dinner.

Link shook his head. “I have something better,” he said. “A secret weapon.” He pulled a rolled parchment from a pouch on his belt. “When things seem hopeless, show Bowser this.” He held out the parchment.

Lara took it and stuffed it into her own belt. She asked, “What is it? It’s not a mustache, is it?”

Link flashed his roguish smile, tipped his hat, and replied, “You’ll see. But no, it’s not a mustache. Here. Take this, too. I’ll need my hands free for the climb up Ganandorf’s tower.” He held out his bow and unslung his quiver of arrows. “Ever handle one of these?”

“Once or twice.”

“How’d you do?”

It was Lara’s turn to flash a smile. She said, “Tolerably well.”
***

Lara and Link dashed out of the fringe of the woods and ran in opposite directions. Bowser roared in anger. His tail thumped the ground, and the world trembled. The creature glanced towards one, then the other, trying to make up his mind which to eat first and which to flame-broil for later. When he saw that Link headed in the direction of Ganandorf’s tower, he shrieked and started to follow. The unholy abomination opened his mouth to spew a belt of flame, but then Lara opened up with both pistols.

Bullets ricocheted off Bowser’s thick skin and spiked shell. The monster bellowed and turned towards the source of the annoyance. Lara kept firing, aiming for the moist, white orbs of the creature’s eyes, but through the smoke and since she and Bowser were both in constant movement, it was a trick easier said than done. Bowser came towards her. He opened his mouth, but instead of the angry roar that Lara expected, he spewed a fireball. Lara threw herself sideways, the meteor of flame scalding flesh as it passed her and exploding into the ground in an eruption of dirt and smoke. Lara went flipping, end-over-end, and crashed with a grunt. She didn’t move.

With one irritation incapacitated, Bowser focused his attention on the other, the green bug crawling its way up Ganandorf’s tower. From her back, Lara could make him out, too. Link was about halfway up the tower. A fall from that height would surely end him, not to mention the damage from Bowser’s exceptionally bad breath. The Master Sword strapped to his back, Link did not have a free hand or way to defend himself. Bowser must have come to the same conclusion. The malignant beast hurled a fiery blast of death.

“No!” Lara groaned. The fireball burst next to Link, and the hero went down in a smoky tangle of mortar, brick, and flame. From the top of the tower, the triumphant laughter of Ganandorf rained upon them. Undoubtedly, the Game Master had viewed their doomed ploy from the top of his tower.

Lara closed her eyes. She could almost hear the meaty splat Link made as he hit the earth. Their last hope had failed. Link was dead. Now it was just her. And she had only one final chance for something. Lara opened her eyes. Revenge.

She gripped her pistols and clumsily stumbled to her feet. She shook her head to free herself of the cobwebs making her thoughts sticky and sluggish. She limped her way towards Bowser. Lara could hear Ganandorf laughing in the background, up in his tower. Bowser turned to face her, a demon’s grin curling the creature’s flame-kissed lips.

“Chew on this,” Lara said. She dropped her pistols and ripped the parchment that Link had given her from her belt. She flicked the parchment open.

Bowser’s mouth gaped open. His eyes widened in horror.

Ganandorf stopped laughing.

Lara glanced down at the parchment in her hands. It was a picture of Dennis Hopper. 
Bowser howled in agony, in astonishment, in embarrassment. To think that the legacy of one of the most terrifying creatures in the history of gaming had been diminished to… that… Dennis Hopper barking out cheesy one-liners in what was perhaps one of the worst movie adaptations of all time! It was too much even for Bowser to bear.

Bowser roared at the heavens, fire erupting from his mouth. He turned in a zig-zag, lunatic circle, scorching all and everything in his almighty rage. His stream of flame lit the tops of the nearest trees, turned the sky red, and then smacked against Ganadorf’s tower. The tower exploded. Lara ducked as chunks of enormous brick fell from the sky and embedded themselves in the ground like newly erected tombstones. The tower, split in half, began to fall. Smoke billowing in its wake, the top began a rapid descent, and with an earth-shattering crash, it landed on top of the thundering Bowser. Bowser’s flame went out like a snuffed candle, and as the tower had, the dino-monster exploded, only in fire and guts instead of smoke and cement.

Lara picked up her pistols and holstered them. Char, soot, and sweat lathered her body, a second skin of grime. She couldn’t wait for a shower, but she was afraid that even the longest, hottest shower in the world could not wash all the dirt off her. She sighed. At least, it was over.

Then someone, coughing, came through the smoke. Lara tensed, drew her guns. The figure took shape. Out of the haze, like a nightmare, strode Ganandorf. Lara had no time to question how the evil magician had survived the tower’s destruction.

“You!” Lara gasped and pulled the triggers. With dread, she heard only two hollow clicks. Out of ammo. She wondered how fast she could unsling Link’s bow and notch an arrow. Probably not fast enough, but it might be worth a shot.

Ganandorf’s lips peeled over a set of pointy teeth. He spat, “Pathetic fool! Did you really think you and your insignificant friends could overcome the wrath of Ganan…” A sword cut through the smoke and then through Ganandorf’s neck. Blood spewed in a red geyser. The body collapsed into a cheap heap of dead. The Game Master’s head stopped, dropped, and rolled into a ring of nearby fire. Eyeballs popped and melted like marshmallows in the sizzling heat.

To state the obvious, the Game Master was dead.

“And he’ll still somehow be back for the sequel, I have no doubt,” said the figure holding the sword.

Lara said, “I thought you were dead.”

Stepping out of the smoke, Link sheathed the Master Sword after wiping it clean. He looked none the worse for the wear, considering he’d fallen from a deadly height after being set on fire. He replied, “I was. Luckily I had an extra life. Found it in the trees yesterday before we met.”

Lara sighed in relief. She said, “Then there’s only one thing left to say.”

“What’s that?”

Lara Croft raised a wary eyebrow, placed her hands on her hips, and said, “Game over.”