Fourth time Godzilla has attacked the great city of Tokyo. Too early for this shit. Called into the Godzilla Task Force Center at 4am today. Not even time for some Ramen noodles and coffee. I slide my Level 60 clearance card through the scanner, then allow the armed men to grope my every orifice, searching for what…a hand gun? Lotion? Hello Kitty Chap Stick? The fellows seem especially frisky today, no pun intended. The facility is all chrome and marble and sliding plexiglass doors--which block your every movement from room to room. I pass through twelve of these sliding doors, each time having to slide my card like some kinda capitalist American, until I reach a bank of elevators. These lifts are inaccessible until you allow a blue laser to scan your retina. I can no longer see colors in my left eye.
The elevator ascends to the top floor. RESTRICTED ACCESS. LEVEL 60. TOP LEVEL PERSONELL ONLY. All that jazz. Nothing really special.
The elevator dings, lets me off. I press my fingertips onto a green pad, which lights up, scanning my prints. A female voice asks me my identity. I say Dr. Yoshi Takanawa. Female voice verifies my voice signature. Eighth plexiglass door slides open, allowing me access to the Godzilla Viewing Deck.
Outside the plexiglass observation windows: the beautiful city of Tokyo…currently in shambles and flames as the monstrous mutated iguana known as Godzilla goes rampaging through towers of glass and steel. Its mouth gapes open and it lets out a mighty roar that causes the observation deck to rattle.
My three comrades acknowledge me with a slight nod. Their names are Shogo Takanawa, Shimmy Takanawa, and the one female, Noriko Takanawa.
“So, what do we know?” I ask.
“She’s a female,” Shogo says, lighting a cig. “We had our birds fly between her legs and found a gaping vagina.”
Noriko raises an eyebrow. “A little early for this much misogyny.”
“Never too early,” Shogo says, putting a hand through his crisp white hair. He’s an old bastard.
“So, solutions?”
This time, Shimmy speaks up. A miracle. He’s the quiet one in the bunch. “We have built a replica Godzilla robot.”
“Ah, to fight Godzilla,” I say.
“Uh, no,” Shimmy says, looking shyly down at the chrome floor.
“To fuck her brains out,” Shogo says through a mouth full of smoke.
“Excuse me?”
Noriko jumps in: “Building a battle robot always results in more damage to the city than if we just let Godzilla have his way with Tokyo. So instead we built a Godzilla sexbot. ”
“Good god,” I say. “Do you think it will work?”
Shogo: “We’ve programmed the Godzilla Sexbot with a male brain. First thing it will do when it sees that gaping vagina is fuck it.”
“Seriously, Shogo. It’s four a.m.,” Noriko says.
“What do you think this is? San Francisco? Shut up you feminist wench.”
“Asshole,” Noriko mutters.
Shimmy hits a big red button on the control panel and the Godzilla Sexbot is released into the city through two steel bay doors. The Sexbot stomps into the heart of Tokyo and immediately goes for the female Godzilla. Ravaging her on top of a glass skyscraper.
“Men,” Noriko mutters.
“She doesn’t seem to be enjoying it,” I note.
“Shit,” Shimmy says. “We programmed the Sexbot with a male brain. He probably can’t find the clitoris.”
“You fools!” I yell. “Why didn’t you program it to be able to find the clitoris?”
“Well,” Shogo says. “To be apt…I’m not exactly sure where the clitoris is myself.”
“But you’re a scientist!”
“Hey, I love the vagina…but once the bay doors are pulled back, I don’t want to look down there. Looks like a bad salami sandwich.”
“Shogo!” Noriko says.
“It’s like getting a Christmas gift wrapped in green paper and red bows, but once you open it, the only thing inside is smashed up chewing gum.”
“It is too early!” Noriko says.
“When is the right time for misogyny?”
“After noon, when I’ve already had four sake.”
“Have some sake right now, then.”
“It is too early.”
“You fools!” I scream, waving my fists in the air. “Look! Look! The Godzilla Sexbot is already finished, leaving the female Godzilla unsatisfied.”
“Shit,” Shimmy says. “She looks pissed.”
“Must be on her period,” Shogo says.
Noriko breaks out the sake. “Fuck it. Who’s with me?”
“Oh God!” I cry. “Now the Sexbot is watching baseball on the Teletron in Center Square.”
Shimmy: “Not only that, the Sexbot is asking the female Godzilla if she could get him a beer and a sandwich.”
Shogo stomps out his cigarette. “Jesus Christ. We’re all fucked.”
The female Godzilla attacks the Sexbot and they both plummet into skyscrapers, further destroying our beautiful city of Tokyo. But then I realize something. The female Godzilla isn’t killing the Sexbot, she’s ravaging him. She’s on top now, riding him like a donkey in a Tijuana sex show.
“Look, she’s taking control!” Noriko cheers. “How empowering.”
Shogo lights another cig. “Yes, yes. Women power. How inspiring. Now let’s scramble the jets and fire tomahawk missiles into that whore’s cunt.”
Another crisis averted by the Godzilla Task Force.


