Cage Match 2017: Sci-Fi vs Fantasy

Round 2

Mr. Wednesday vs Daenerys Targaryen


Mr. Wednesday

American Gods

Daenerys Targaryen

A Game of Thrones

Mr. Wednesday

American Gods
  • Age: Subjective
  • Species: Numinous
  • Weapons: Spear, deific powers, an irascible wit
  • Special Attack: Being twelve steps ahead of everybody else


  • Is literally a god
  • Is an unparalleled community organizer
  • Has a fairly impressive bodyguard


  • His existence is threatened by waning belief
  • He's seen better days
Cover art for the book American Gods by Neil Gaiman

American Gods

By Neil Gaiman

Daenerys Targaryen

A Game of Thrones
  • Age: 15
  • Species: Human
  • Weapons: The world's only living dragons, a sizeable army
  • Special Attack: Dracarys


  • Has an iron will
  • Inspires devotion in her soldiers and advisers
  • ...did we mention the dragons?


  • Can't seem to figure out that whole Narrow Sea problem
  • Proud and stubborn
Cover art for the book A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin

A Game of Thrones

By George R. R. Martin
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Match Prediction

By Gabe Hudson


“Go get me that Mr. Wednesday,” says Daenerys. “I’m going to marry him. Or eat him.”

“He is very handsome,” says Drogon, snorting firestreams.

“Bring him to me!”

“Yes, my lady,” says Drogon, and then he leaps out the castle window and flies off to find Mr. Wednesday on the other side of the cage.

The cage is ten miles long.


Drogon stomps around the cage and shoots firestreams out of his beak, burning Mr. Wednesday’s fortress to a crisp.

Mr. Wednesday’s bodyguards run around with their clothes on fire.

One of the bodyguards shouts, “Men! Let’s fill this giant green monster with lead!”

“Mr. Wednesday, where are you?” calls the dragon. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Mr. Wednesday’s bodyguards on the ground dig in with their pistols and rifles and bravely shoot up at Drogon.

Pop pop pop pop pop pop!

Their tiny bullets bounce off Drogon’s face.

“Ha!” cries Drogon “I am so terrible! Your bullets feel like kisses! Ha-ha! I would like more kisses, please!”


Now two of Mr. Wednesday’s bodyguards huddle next to a SCUD missile launcher in the middle of the destroyed cage. Buildings and cars on fire. And little fire trucks lie wadded up on the side of the road like accordions.

Bodyguard #1 yells, “Fire!”

Bodyguard #2 presses a button.

The missile screams up into the air.

The ground shakes.

Bodyguard #1 yells, “We can’t stop this monster!”

Bodyguard #2 yells, “I hope Mr. Wednesday is somewhere safe!”

A huge shadow falls over the bodyguards. They look up with horror on their faces.

Bodyguard #1 yells, “Run!”

At that moment Drogon’s giant green webbed foot comes down into view and squashes the two bodyguards and the SCUD missile launcher.

Then the giant green foot lifts up and leaves as Drogon continues to search for Mr. Wednesday.


By now the war-torn cage is littered with the corpses of Mr. Wednesday’s bodyguards.

There are fires everywhere, as well as the burnt out husks of tanks.

Drogon roars and stomps around the cage.

Drogon has thousands of Mr. Wednesday’s bodyguards hanging off him, trying to kill him.

Despite their miniature size, the bodyguards continue to attack Drogon.

Drogon says, “Your behavior annoys me. I want to finish this so I can bring Mr. Wednesday to Daenerys! And so I’m going to make you pay the ultimate price for your stupidity!”

Now Drogon reaches down and starts grabbing as many of the little bodyguards as he can and stuffing them in his mouth, eating them.

“Arrgggh!” The bodyguards scream in horror when Drogon grabs them by the handful and then raises them up to his giant jaws and chomps them.

And Drogon eats with his mouth open so that little bits of half-eaten combatants are raining down on the horrified bodyguards below.

“The sound of your screams is music to my ears,” says Drogon. “It makes me feel happy. Where is Mr. Wednesday?!”


Now a bodyguard shouts, “Fire!”

And the battalion of bodyguards shoot their arrows in unison.

The whizzing noise of hundreds of tiny arrows slicing through the air.

And Drogon feels the arrowheads puncture his scales.

“Ouch!” says Drogon.

Now there are tiny arrows sticking out all over his body.

“I feel woozy,” says Drogon. “The tips of these arrows must be dipped in some sort of nasty magic poison.”

Then Drogon slowly starts to keel over like a felled redwood tree.


Now all we can see is Drogon’s head lying sideways on the beach with his one remaining eye wide open, and he appears to be catatonic. His face is peppered with little arrows.

And then we hear the rising shouts and cries of the bodyguards as they collectively lift Drogon on their shoulders like a swarm of ants and carry him off.


One of Mr. Wednesday’s bodyguards, holding a fiery torch in his hand, shouts, “Now we will burn this giant green monster alive! For those of you who have your swords, you are allowed to stab this demon while he’s in his death throes!”

The bodyguards instantly commence attacking Drogon with their swords, swarming all over him.

Drogon wakes up and easily rips free of the rope bindings and stands up.

And then Drogon says, “Excuse me! Excuse me!”

The bodyguards stop fighting and suddenly get quiet.

There are hundreds of bodyguards clinging to Drogon’s scaly forelimbs and hind legs and chest.

And there are millions of armed bodyguards on the ground below.

“I have a very important announcement to make,” says Drogon.

Then he plucks one of the bodyguards off his chest and pulls off the little fella’s white T-shirt.

Then he pops the screaming shirtless bodyguard in his mouth and quickly chews him up and swallows him with a loud gulp.

Then Drogon waves the tiny white T-shirt between his index claw and thumb claw and says, “I surrender. Now take me to your leader, Mr. Wednesday.”


“I told you he was handsome.” says Daenerys Targaryen pointing to the jar on the dining room table. And inside the jar is Mr. Wednesday.

And Mr. Wednesday is banging against the glass side of the jar, and shouting, “You stupid dragon! Let me out of here, you big dumb dragon!”

“Very handsome,” says Drogon. He uses his claw to flick the side of the jar and the Mr. Wednesday is thrown backward on his butt. But then Mr. Wednesday leaps back up and starts banging on the side of the jar.

“Should I marry him? Or should I eat him?” says Daenerys.

At that moment, her stomach growls.

Predicted Winner: Daenerys

Tally of Votes Cast:

Mr. Wednesday:


Daenerys Targaryen:

A photo of Gabe Hudson

Gabe Hudson

GABE HUDSON is the author of Dear Mr. President, a finalist for the PEN/Hemingway Award and winner of the Sue Kaufman Prize for First Fiction from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. Hudson was named one of Granta‘s 20 Best of Young American Novelists and was a recipient of the Hodder Fellowship from Princeton University, the John Hawkes Prize in Fiction from Brown University, and the Adele Steiner Burleson Award in Fiction from the University of Texas at Austin. His writing has appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine, The Village Voice, McSweeney’s, Black Book, and Granta. For many years, he was Editor-at-Large for McSweeney’s. He lives in Brooklyn.

Cover art for the book Gork, the Teenage Dragon by Gabe Hudson

Gork, the Teenage Dragon

By Gabe Hudson