Saturday the 27th of June, 2009  

Dear Princess.

It’s a-me, Mario! Or Luigi. Who cares, as long as you’re getting rescued, right? LOL.

I have to cut to the chase here: I can’t do this anymore. You’re going to have to find someone else to rescue your stupid ass. I’m sorry, but the hassles of this job are just too much for me to handle anymore.

I mean, let’s start with the relentless killing. The unending, vast hordes of enemies that toddle towards me with murder in their eyes. The stomping, the burning, the flipping with my tail(which, by the way — what the fuck?). The thousand and one deaths I die every day and every night only to wake up right where I started to do it all over again. Do you have any idea what it’s like to leap off a block and fall — seemingly forever — into a black void that then sweeps me away to the place of my own demise to try and make the jump once more?

Have you ever considered the very real medical repercussions of this job? Forget the concussions, or the weak knees from constant, constant running. Think for a second about the mushrooms. Have you ever doubled in size in a fraction of a second? My bones are splintered, Princess. Weakened and twisted and then shrunk back down again as soon as I get hurt. I have nightmares and vertigo — after-effects of sudden and massive changes in perception. To you, I eat a mushroom and get bigger. To me, I watch the whole world zoom away from me as my muscles bulge and my skin tightens. My plumbers insurance does not cover this. And you try finding a therapist that doesn’t call the ASPCA as soon as you mention the grotesque popping sound a koopa makes as you squash its shell.

And all this for what? A single kiss from you? Maybe? I’ve been on adventures where we meet at the end and simply walk off camera, with barely a hug between us. I’m sure you think it’s your God-given right to have people bust their ass all day to save you, but I’ve got a girl back in New Jersey who isn’t afraid to suck my dick, let alone kiss me full on the mouth. And guess what? She isn’t getting freaking kidnapped every other Tuesday.

So this is it. Goodbye. By the time you read this, I’ll have jumped down the nearest pipe — which is always super hygienic, by the way(!) — and left this place for good. Give my regards to Toad for me. I hope he finds a boyfriend.

Love,
Mario

PS. Yoshi ticked me off, so I left him tied to a stake in the Dry Dry Desert. If you need directions to find him, feel free to call our toll-free number: 1-800-WHO-THE-HELL-CARES-IT’S-FREAKING-YOSHI.