The Epic Begins: Mecha Chumpzilla

There are no weight classes in the Toughest Living Creature Competition. That’s Mecha Godzilla’s first problem. His second problem, the main one really, is that on March 30, 1984, 8 lbs. 7 oz. of fury came into this world, bawling for oily robot-monster blood. Sure, I never got that big, but every inch of me was designed to kick that fire-breathing kaiju’s metal throat in.

You see, ever since Mecha took the TLCC, people in my circle have debated whether or not he’s considered “living,” and if he should really keep the title. Unfortunately, the organization’s first tenant, “Winners are always right,” as well as their second tenant, “If there are two winners, both of them are right, but the tougher one is more right,” have allowed Mecha to maintain his dominance over the league for decades.

Until today… I fought him, just now, at midnight, and I have just enough time, vital fluid, and unbroken fingers left to finish this blog before my next battle: with this bitch of a coma I feel coming on.

If you didn’t hear us fighting I’m surprised. Your delicate psyches probably just told you it was traffic or something because you couldn’t conceive of how epic our battle was. The dude smacked me with the Statue of Liberty, which would have been fine, except I wasn’t looking. After that I pretty much let him have it.

Let’s just say that that Tin Man will need more than an oil can to get him started again. Nor will he have an easy time finding his heart, because I tore it out, made it into a car, drove it home, and then stuck it in a big blue bag by the curb…

Tomorrow’s recycling.

So in a month or so, when you’re having your can of Coca-Cola or PBR, give it a tilt in remembrance of Mecha: you might just be sipping out of his heart.