By Ed Staskus
Looking down at the Great Lakes Goo Goo Godzilla wondered what they were and where he was. He had flown past a whopping big one and could see four more, each one smaller than the one before. The two he was over were like kidneys facing each other and the one ahead reminded him of home. It was shaped like Japan. He swooped lower to get a better look.
When he saw the 500-foot-tall cooling towers of the Perry Nuclear Generating Station, his eyes got wide, and he dove straight for them. One of them was billowing steam, but the other one looked quiet. He knew exactly what they were. He didn’t like their looks. The Godzilla’s had a love hate hookup with fission.
Oliver knew what they were, too. He lived nearby. He didn’t pay them much mind, though. As long as the lights worked he was happy.
Goo Goo couldn’t fly, not exactly, but he could launch himself like a rocket with his atomic breath. Once he was up and away, he was able to glide the jet stream for hours, adjusting his course with bursts of red-hot. His grandfather had taught him.
“It was fifty years ago when I was battling Hedorah that I first flew,” Godzilla said. “I was beating him into mashed potatoes with my tail but then he morphed into a flying saucer and escaped. I was helpless but wouldn’t give up. I ran as fast as I could, but he just got farther and farther away. At the last minute I got a brainstorm and took off using my atomic breath. I caught him, wrestled him down to the ground, and knocked him for a loop. When I was done, I blasted off again and went home.”
“Can you teach me?” Goo Goo asked.
“I will, but don’t tell your grandmother,” Godzilla whispered. “She thinks flying is dangerous.”
“What about Mothra and Rodan?” Goo Goo said. “They will always have the upper hand if you don’t go airborne. There’s King Ghidorra, too, he never stops giving you fits.”
“I know, I know,” Godzilla said, the memory getting on his nerves. “Let’s just keep the flying to ourselves, OK?”
When Oliver heard the emergency siren coming from the direction of Lake Erie, he ran to the TV and turned it on. He suspected Goo Goo Godzilla was roaming around and feared the worst. Sure enough, it was the boy mountain circling the power plant on the lakeshore. He ran upstairs where his mother was brushing her teeth.
“Mom, can I borrow your cellphone?”
“Of course,” she said, spitting out Colgate and a mouthful of water. “What is that sound out there?”
Oliver ran downstairs without answering and called school. He begged off his first-grade class. The lesson that day was going to be about the difference between living and non-living things. He didn’t have any trouble with that kind of mental grasp of things.
“Do the best you can,” the vice-principal said. “We are all counting on you. Oh, and tell your mother we won’t need a note this time.”
Oliver was the Unofficial Monster Hunter of Lake County. Even though he was only six years old he had a sixth sense about monsters. He knew when they were under his bed. He knew when they were in the basement. He knew when they were lurking in the woods.
“Emma, can you skip school today?” he asked his older sister.
“You bet I can!”
“It might get dangerous.”
I’m right behind you,” she said.
They tossed monster hunting gear in their backpacks, strapped them on, and jumped on their pedal power go karts. Oliver’s was built for business while Emma’s was raked for style. They pedaled alongside Lane Rd, through front yards and backyards, through crop fields and nurseries, past Lane Grove and Birchfield Meadows, and at North Ridge Rd. stopped at the Dairy Queen for ice cream. Pressed for time, they had to lick down their cones on the go, zipping under Rt. 20 to Lake Erie, where they took a right and raced to the nuclear plant.
They followed the shoreline past the bluffs. Goo Goo was stomping around the cooling towers, unleashing bursts of fury. They saw him plain as day. Police cars were everywhere, but what could they do? Goo Goo’s skin was a kind of battle armor that bullets and bombs bounced off of.
When the police chief saw Oliver coming, he waved for him to hurry.
“What’s your plan of attack?” he asked.
“All Godzilla’s have two brains, one in their head and one down their back where the tail starts,” Oliver said. “I’m going to climb up his tail and go after his second brain.”
“That sounds good. We’ll swing around to the front of him and try to distract him.”
Oliver and Emma scrambled behind Goo Goo, who was snorting at the policemen. Oliver stopped at the tip of his tail and started climbing up. When he reached the spot where Goo Goo’s second brain was, Emma tossed a small ballpeen hammer up to him. Oliver peeled back the scales that covered the brain and started banging out a message with the hammer in Morse code.
All monsters know Morse code, although they never tell anybody who isn’t a monster. Since most of them don’t know how to talk, only roar growl and holler, the code was their way of talking to each other. The Godzilla’s had their own secret language, but they knew Morse code, as well.
“Stop messing with those reactors.” Oliver tapped. “That’s an order. Scram!”
Goo Goo stopped dead in his tracks. He whirled in all directions, almost sending Oliver flying, looking for the buttinsky trying to be the boss of him. Where was he? Was it an invisible monster? That could be real trouble. Maybe he had better fly back to Japan and tell his grandfather about this. He would know what to do.
Before leaving he bellowed and tail-thumped a police car. Oliver had already scrambled off Goo Goo. He and Emma dashed a safe distance away while the junior lizard dinosaur lifted up into the sky with a mighty roar. Before they knew it, he was gone.
The police chief thanked Oliver and clapped him on the back, almost sending him sprawling. “You saved the day. Whatever you did took care of that stinkweed. We owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“C’mon bud, we better beat it back home, otherwise we’ll be late for dinner,” Emma said.
“All right,” Oliver said, and they slid into their go karts and in a split second left the power plant behind them.
By that time Goo Goo was far to the west, gliding over Sandusky, where he spied a Laser Wash car wash. He had flown almost ten thousand miles and hadn’t taken a bath in days. He was sure lasers would clean him up like nobody’s business. But when he landed, he discovered there were no lasers, just water. It was a scam! He was vexed and stamped his feet. When he noticed an American Pride car wash across the street, he liked what he saw. He lay down at the entrance of it, exhaled getting skinny like a snake, tucked in this legs and arms and let the roller conveyor pull him. The water was cold, so he heated it up with a short blast of hot fire. When he came out the other end he felt like a new man and zoomed away.
Oliver and Emma didn’t stop for anything on their way home and walked in through the back patio door just as their mother was setting the table. Their father was playing his new old-school Legend electric piano in the living room.
“Ollie, Emmie, dinner’s almost ready,” their mother said looking at them over her shoulder. The kitchen was warm and smelled wonderful. “Make sure you wash up, you’re both dirty as can be. Where have you been and what have you been doing?”
Ed Staskus posts feature stories on 147 Stanley Street http://www.147stanleystreet.com and Cleveland Daybook http://www.clevelandohiodaybook.com. To get the site’s monthly feature in your in-box click on “Follow.”