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Mario fanclub

The Divine Comedy of the Linguine Lord

The "Mario-Mobile"—which was actually just a golden litter carried by sixteen high-ranking magical girls—moved through the dimensional rift with the grace of a swan and the structural integrity of a wet noodle. Mario sat atop his velvet cushion, picking a piece of lint out of his belly button and flicking it at a passing nebula. To his left, a princess from a realm of eternal cherry blossoms was peeling grapes for him. To his right, a cybernetic assassin was sharpening her blades, her eyes scanning the horizon for any "haters" who might dare disturb the Great Red One's peace.

"Is the temperature to your liking, Master Mario?" the leader of the group, a woman named Seraphina who hailed from a high-fantasy RPG world, asked with a bow.

Mario belched, the sound echoing across the cosmic void. "It needs more... uh... fire. And maybe some of those little crackers that look like fish. Mario is a growing boy!"

"Of course! Someone, fetch the crackers of the sea! And ignite the ceremonial torches!" Seraphina commanded.

Within seconds, three different girls were scrambling to fulfill the request. One of them used a legendary fire spell to ignite a nearby asteroid just to provide Mario with better lighting. Mario cheered, clapping his hands together like a seal.

"Wahoo! You guys are way better than SMG4," Mario said, wiping his greasy hands on the silk upholstery. "He always says things like 'Mario, don't put the toaster in the bathtub' or 'Mario, stop trying to sell Tari’s arm on eBay.' He’s a big poopy-head."

A collective gasp of horror rippled through the crowd. The girl with the scythe, whose name was Kage, gripped her weapon tighter. "He dared to restrict your creative impulses? Truly, that man is the ultimate villain of your world. Do not worry, Master. Here, your genius is recognized as the divine spark it is."

Back at the castle, the "villain" in question was currently trying to hotwire a dimensional portal using a discarded Wii remote and a half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich. SMG4’s hair was standing on end, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"I’ve got a signal!" he shouted, pointing at a flickering monitor. "They’ve crossed into the 'Waifu Nebula.' It’s a sector of space where the laws of logic are replaced by the power of friendship and obsessive fan-girling. If he stays there too long, his stupidity will reach critical mass and collapse the entire dimension into a singularity of pure derp!"

Meggy looked over his shoulder, her expression grim. "How do we get there? My Splat-Gun doesn't exactly have an 'interdimensional travel' setting."

"I’ve got it covered," Saiko said, dragging a massive, glowing crate into the room. "I called in a favor from some old contacts in the anime world. This is a Prototype Plot-Armor Generator. It’ll let us survive the sheer cringe of that dimension long enough to grab the idiot and get out."

Tari fidgeted with her fingers. "Do you think they’ll... you know... be mean to us? They seemed really protective of him."

"Mean?" Bob chimed in, suddenly appearing with a suitcase packed with Mario-themed merchandise. "They’re going to kill us! But on the bright side, I’ve started a betting pool on who gets stabbed first. My money’s on SMG4. He’s got a very punchable face."

"Not helping, Bob!" SMG4 yelled. "Everyone, grab on! We’re going in!"

The group huddled around the generator. With a blinding flash of blue light and the sound of a thousand discord pings, the castle foyer was emptied.

They materialized in a world that looked like it had been designed by a sugar-high toddler with an unlimited budget for glitter. The sky was a vibrant shade of neon pink, and the clouds were made of cotton candy. In the center of a massive marble plaza stood a temple that looked suspiciously like a giant bowl of spaghetti.

"Oh, god," SMG4 gagged, covering his nose. "It smells like... Axe body spray and marinara sauce."

"Look!" Meggy pointed toward the temple.

At the top of the stairs, Mario was being crowned with a wreath made of meatballs. He was currently trying to eat the wreath while it was still on his head, resulting in him spinning in circles like a dog chasing its tail. The crowd of girls—now numbering in the thousands—was cheering so loudly that the ground was vibrating.

"He is the Alpha and the Omega!" a girl in a school uniform cried out, falling to her knees. "Look at how he struggles against the meat! It symbolizes the eternal conflict of the human condition!"

"Mario! Stop!" SMG4’s voice cut through the chanting like a rusty saw.

The crowd went silent. Thousands of heads turned in unison, their eyes narrowing at the intruders. The air pressure in the plaza dropped instantly.

"It’s them," Seraphina hissed, stepping forward. Her starlight dress began to glow with a dangerous, icy light. "The suppressors of the Great Red One. The ones who would chain the chaos and cage the spaghetti."

"We’re not suppressors!" Meggy shouted, stepping forward with her hand on her holster. "We’re his friends! Mario, tell them! Tell them you want to come home!"

Mario stopped trying to eat his crown and looked down the stairs. He blinked, his eyes focusing on SMG4 for a brief second before drifting toward a nearby fountain that was flowing with liquid cheese.

"Uh... who are you guys again?" Mario asked, tilting his head. "Are you the guys who bring the garlic bread?"

SMG4 felt a vein throb in his forehead. "Mario! It’s me! SMG4! We’ve been through everything together! The YouTube arcs, the T-Pose virus, the time you accidentally deleted the internet! Don't tell me you’ve forgotten us for a bunch of girls who think your farts are poetry!"

"To be fair," Bob whispered, "his farts do have a certain rhythm to them."

"Quiet, Bob!" Saiko snapped, stepping forward and slamming her hammer onto the marble floor, cracking it. "Listen up, you crazy fan-girls! We’re taking the fat guy back, and if any of you try to stop us, I’m going to show you exactly why I’m the lead singer of a rock band and not a damsel in distress!"

The girl with the scythe, Kage, vanished in a blur of speed, reappearing inches from Saiko’s face. The two weapons clashed with a shower of sparks that lit up the plaza.

"You speak of friendship," Kage spat, her eyes glowing red. "But you do not appreciate the purity of his soul. You mock him. You call him 'stupid.' We see the truth. He is the only honest being in a world of lies!"

"He’s not honest, he’s just too dumb to remember his own name half the time!" SMG4 argued, dodging a stray energy bolt from a magical girl in the third row.

The plaza erupted into a chaotic brawl. It was a sight that defied all logic: Meggy was parkouring over a group of ninjas, Tari was frantically trying to shield herself with a digital barrier while apologizing to everyone she accidentally tripped, and Bob was busy trying to pick-pocket the crowd while they were distracted.

In the middle of it all, Mario sat on his throne, completely oblivious to the violence. He had finally managed to get a meatball into his mouth and was chewing happily.

"Go, Mario! Go, Mario! It’s your birthday! We’re gonna eat spaghetti like it’s your birthday!" he sang to himself, kicking his legs back and forth.

"Mario!" SMG4 screamed, lunging through a gap in the crowd. He managed to scramble up the stairs, his clothes torn and his hat missing. He reached the throne and grabbed Mario by the shoulders. "We have to go! Now! Before they decide to turn us into ornaments for your temple!"

Mario looked at SMG4, a smear of sauce on his cheek. "But SMG4... they have a room made of pizza. The walls are crust. The floor is pepperoni. The ceiling is stuffed with extra cheese. Why would I leave?"

SMG4 paused. He looked at the temple, then at the adoring fans, then back at Mario. For a split second, a look of genuine doubt crossed his face. "Is... is the crust stuffed?"

"Yes!" Mario shouted.

"No! Focus!" SMG4 shook his head, slapping himself. "Mario, look at them! They don't love you for who you are. They love you because they’ve projected some weird, philosophical meaning onto your idiocy! If you stay here, they’ll eventually expect you to do something 'wise' or 'heroic,' and we both know you’ll blow it in five seconds!"

"I can be wise!" Mario pouted. "Yesterday, I told a girl that if her shoes are too tight, she should just cut off her toes. She called it a 'radical deconstruction of societal beauty standards!'"

"That’s exactly what I’m talking about!" SMG4 groaned. "You’re a ticking time bomb of nonsense! Eventually, they’ll realize you’re just a guy who likes to stick his head in tubas, and they’ll turn on you!"

Suddenly, the leader, Seraphina, landed on the dais between them. Her face was no longer serene; it was twisted with a fanatical zeal. "He will never fail us! And you... you are the rot that seeks to spoil the harvest! Guards! Seize the heretic!"

A dozen girls with glowing spears closed in. SMG4 backed away, tripping over the edge of the pepperoni tutu Mario was still wearing.

"Wait!" Mario shouted, standing up.

Everyone froze. The battle in the plaza below ground to a halt as thousands of eyes turned toward the Great Red One. Mario stood tall—or as tall as a round plumber can stand—and pointed a dramatic finger at the sky.

"I have-a something to say!" Mario proclaimed.

The crowd leaned in, breathless. Notebooks were pulled out. Recording devices were activated.

"I am Mario," he began, his voice echoing with a strange, accidental gravity. "And I love-a the spaghetti. I love-a the jumping. And I love-a the making of the 'stinky leg.' But most of all..."

He paused for dramatic effect. A single tear rolled down Seraphina’s cheek. "Yes, Master? Most of all?"

"Most of all... I really, really need to use the bathroom. And I don't see any toilets in this temple. Just bowls of pasta. And Mario does not want to confuse the two again. It was a very messy Tuesday."

The silence that followed was deafening. You could have heard a noodle drop.

The girls looked at each other. Then they looked at the "Sacred Bowls of Eternal Sustenance" lining the walls. Then they looked back at Mario, who was now doing a little "I have to pee" dance, his face turning a slight shade of purple.

"He... he wants to use the bathroom?" one of the girls whispered, her voice trembling. "In the middle of the Ascension Ceremony?"

"And he... he confused the pasta with... with a..." Another girl turned green and clutched her stomach.

The illusion began to crack. The "metaphorical genius" was suddenly replaced by the reality of a middle-aged man in a pepperoni skirt who hadn't showered in three days and was currently talking about his bladder.

"That’s not... that’s not poetic at all," Kage muttered, lowering her scythe. "That’s just... gross."

"It’s a subversion!" Seraphina tried to shout, though her voice lacked conviction. "He’s... he’s commenting on the base nature of the biological form! He’s... he’s..."

Mario let out a long, loud, and incredibly wet-sounding rip of flatulence that lasted for a solid ten seconds. He then sighed with relief and scratched his rear end.

"Ahhh. Much better. Now, who wants to see me stick this meatball up my nose?"

The reaction was instantaneous. The "Team Mario" t-shirts were ripped off. Banners were dropped. The chanting turned into murmurs of "Oh, gross," "I can't believe I liked him," and "Is that a piece of ham in his ear?"

"I’m out," a high-ranking sorceress said, opening a portal. "I have a kingdom to run. I can't believe I wasted three mana-potions on this guy."

Within minutes, the sea of girls began to evaporate. Portals opened and closed like strobe lights. The temple of spaghetti began to crumble as the "power of friendship" that held the dimension together started to fail.

"Wait! Come back!" Mario shouted, waving his arms. "I haven't shown you the thing I can do with my armpit and a bottle of soda!"

"Let it go, Mario," Meggy said, walking up the stairs and putting a hand on his shoulder. She looked tired, but there was a small, amused smile on her face. "I think your fan club just went through a 'creative restructuring.'"

"Does this mean no more free grapes?" Mario asked, looking genuinely distraught.

"It means we’re going home," Saiko said, grabbing him by the ear and dragging him toward the center of the plaza. "And you’re cleaning the oil off the stairs. With your tongue, if I have anything to say about it."

"Ow! Ow! Mama-mia! SMG4, help! The scary pink lady is touching my ear-holes!"

SMG4 sighed, picking up his battered hat and dusting it off. He looked around at the dissolving world of glitter and cotton candy, then at his group of dysfunctional friends.

"Well," SMG4 said, "at least things are back to normal."

"Hey, guys!" Bob shouted from across the plaza. "I managed to steal the leader’s magic staff! Does anyone know how to turn a person into a gold bar? I’ve got some debts to pay."

"Give it here, Bob!"

As the group gathered around the Plot-Armor Generator to head home, Mario looked back one last time. A single, lonely fan—a small girl with pigtails and a very thick pair of glasses—was still standing there, holding a Mario plushie.

"I still believe in you, Mario!" she squeaked.

Mario gave her a thumbs up and a wink. "Don't worry, little girl! Mario will always be stupid! It’s-a my superpower!"

With a final flash of light, the plaza was empty. The temple of spaghetti collapsed into a pile of cold noodles, and the pink sky faded into the gray of the void.

Back in the Mushroom Kingdom castle, the group tumbled out of the portal and onto the foyer floor. Mario landed face-first in the puddle of olive oil he had left behind earlier.

"Wahoo! I’m home!" Mario muffled into the floor.

SMG4 looked at the mess, the broken vase, and the lingering scent of pepperoni. He felt a headache coming on—the familiar, comforting headache of his everyday life.

"Mario," SMG4 said, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yes, SMG4?" Mario popped his head up, his face covered in oil.

"Get the mop."

"But SMG4, the mop is my friend! We were going to get married!"

"GET. THE. MOP."

"Okie-dokie!"

As Mario scurried off toward the kitchen, humming a distorted version of the "Starman" theme, Meggy leaned against the doorframe. "You know, for a second there, I thought we actually lost him."

"Nah," SMG4 said, watching Mario accidentally trip over the mop bucket and soak himself in soapy water. "The universe has a way of balancing itself out. No matter how many people think he’s a god, at the end of the day, Mario is always going to be the guy who tries to eat his own crown."

"True," Tari said, giggling. "But you have to admit... he did look kind of cool in that tutu."

"Don't start, Tari," SMG4 groaned. "Just... don't start."

And so, peace—or at least the loud, messy, and incredibly stupid version of it—returned to the Mushroom Kingdom. Somewhere in the multiverse, a few thousand girls were currently deleting their "Team Mario" fan-fics, but in the heart of the castle, the Great Red One was exactly where he belonged: stuck in a bucket and screaming for spaghetti.