Gadzooka Vs Sushima

By AT Davidson

‘Why, Murdoch, who else would do such a terrible thing as destroy Tokyo and put a halt to industry and the simple, day to day, corporate existence of the selfless and incredibly hard working Japanese citizen, who only asks for his bowl of rice and some nice sushi and the safety of his happy family, consisting of his beautiful wife and two point three, happy, innocent children, than the evil Gadzooka? —the devil that he is.’

What would the world be without the 1960s Japanese robotic monster? Umm. . . quite peaceful, probably.
Join Murdoch as he attempts to save Tokyo by unleashing the wonderful, benevolent, child-loving Sushima on the evil Gadzooka in a battle of robotic monsters.

This satirical story is written in the tradition of B-Grade stories, complete with all the stereotypes, creativity and effects – flaws and all.
The characters are purely fictitious. Any similarities with any person, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
The story is not meant to offend. If you may be offended, please don’t download it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AT Davidson
• Release date: Mar 1, 2015

Book preview

Gadzooka Vs Sushima

or:

Be disrespectful to all monsters!

Gadzooka Vs Sushima

Text copyright (C) AT Davidson 2011

Smashwords edition (C) 2015

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This satirical story is written in the tradition of B-Grade stories, complete with all the stereotypes, creativity and effects – flaws and all.

The characters are purely fictitious. Any similarities with any person, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

The story is not meant to offend. If you feel offended, please don’t download it, or delete it from your system.

Something is oddly different, or perhaps differently odd? We briefly see the words: American International. We hear silly, upbeat marching music. Then we see the name: MURDOCH. Then there are odd names, the likes of: Tetsuo Nakashima, Karasumana Igiwachiki, Sokooki Fujiwatichi, Mamiko Harakonda; Sessue Hakawachi and Chucky Horowitz! When the last of these multisyllabic names fade away, we are looking across a large city, but the buildings tell us that this is not New York. Odd signs, printed in what is either Chinese or Japanese, confuse us and then we hear a stern voice speaking. Suddenly we are transported to a room and looking through an open doorway. There we see a man bent over a desk, furiously writing. He quickly looks up and gets to his feet. He either gets a sudden stomach ache at this juncture or he is bowing. We now know where we are, for he is definitely bowing. We are in Japan and we think it might be some time in the late sixties. We are really not all that clever in coming to this conclusion, however, for we can tell this simply by looking at the calendar tacked to the wall behind the bowing man. It shows a traditional, white faced Japanese woman demurely hiding the lower half of her face behind a hand painted fan. Despite the Japanese writing, there is a date, which is not in Japanese, however, but