some old bullshit

Nintendo Night

“Just scooped it out the bowl and threw it out the window!”

“Oh Mario,” said Princess Peach, screwing her face up in mock disgust.

“Don’t worry, I washed my hands. Hey, crisps?”

“What flavour have they got?”

“The fuck should I know? You want some or not.”

“Yeah, I’ll have some, just not prawn cocktail,” said Luigi.

“I’ll get a selection. And same again?” Luigi and Princess Peach nodded but Daisy inhaled through her teeth. “What?”

“Ah, I shouldn’t,” she protested. Note she didn’t say no. She wanted convincing.

“Go on, one more. It’s not like you have to be anywhere. Nobody even knows what game you’re from!”

“Eh! I’m in Mario Kart.”

“Who isn’t!” said Mario with a wink. “One for the road.”

“Rainbow Road!” chirped Luigi.


“Nothing,” said Luigi draining his pint and handing Mario the empty glass. He wiped his moustache with the back of his glove and watched as Mario danced between the tables and through the doors to where the bar was. Luigi sat back, closed his eyes and let the sun hug his face. “Drinking in the sun is dangerous,” he said to himself as much as to anybody at the table.

When Mario finally reappeared with the drinks and pockets full of crisps he was scolded by Daisy with a ‘you took your time.’ As he ripped the crisp packets open down their length and placed them in the centre of the table he explained that he’d been onto the street for a ciggie.  “What’s his name was out there,” he said snarfing down a handful of crisps. A few fragments didn’t make it into his mouth and he flicked them from his chest.

“What’s his name?”

“Yeah, you know…” Mario clicked his fingers rapidly.

“Can you narrow it down a bit?” laughed Princess Peach.

“Fucking… green clothes-“

“Me!” shouted Luigi.

“No, a fairy-“

“Yeah, me! Shut that door!” Luigi shouted.

“Ha! Nah, and a… thing. Hookshot.”


“Yeah, he’s out there. Wanted me to get him a carry-out. Cheeky little twat.”

“He’s not called Zelda, you know,” offered Daisy.

“You what, mate?”

“He’s not called Zelda. He’s called Link, the Princess is called Zelda.”

Mario pulled the most quizzical of faces. His chin retracted into his neck. “What?”

“No, that’s right, he’s called Link,” confirmed Luigi.

“Well I was calling him Zelda and he didn’t correct me… little freak.”

“Should have told him to get the sword from The Temple of Time,” said Luigi.

“I should have told him to get the what from the what what?”

“The sword. Pulls it out and he gets old but the place goes all smashed up.” Luigi did a kind of snorty snore after he finished that sentence.

“Your fucking head’s cooked, mate. Hey, Peach, you reckon the next game starring me will be called Peach?”

“Probably will be if the GamerGaters let their guard down!” she said and they all laughed.

“Fucking GamerGaters,” added Mario with a shake of his head. “How did you get here?”

“Motorbike with button wheels,” said Princess Peach.

“A silver Mercedes with monster truck wheels and a cloud handglider,” said Daisy.

“What? Pick them up tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve had too much to drink already.”

“You’ve got to let you hair down,” Mario finished his drink. “Who’s round?” he asked rubbing his nose and looking around the beer garden.

“Kirby is,” said Luigi and after a moment Mario stared at him.

“Kirby is?” he asked.


“Are you doing a joke?”


“I meant whose round is it.”

“Oh, I thought… I thought you wanted to know! Who was round.”

“Why would I want to know that?”

“I don’t know!”

“Christ,” said Mario shaking his head. “Who’s round. Kirby.”

“I’ll get them,” said Daisy. “Same again?”

They all agreed on the same again apart from Princess Peach who was ready for something harder, specifically Vodka and J2O.

Soon as darkness as well as the temperature fell  they were all on shots and they were getting loud. Drunk loud. Obnoxious. High contrast. Shouting. Laughing bent double. Dropping bottles. Bumping. Dancing.

“What do you mean vadenuff?

“I can’t serve you any more.”

“You can’t serve me any more?” asked Mario, swaying.  The barman moved further down the bar. Mario swayed. His face seemed to be having its own argument. His eyebrows were going up and down. And then, his internal argument concluded, he blew his cheeks out. “Oi Get me a fucking drink!” shouted Mario, the force of his shout sending him stumbling backwards. He steadied himself on a tall table and was about to head back to the bar when he was grabbed by the elbow.

“I think it’s time to go home,” said the doorman.

“No, I’m alright, I’m alright,” pleaded Mario as he was led to the door.

“He’s alright, he’s alright!” said Luigi making to grab Mario as he was paraded past. Luigi didn’t actually grab him He didn’t want to be kicked out too.

“I’m alright, I’m alright!” said Mario and then he was outside. Defeated and released his manners left him and his bravado returned. “I’ll fucking kill you mate, you touch me again!” He shouted at the doorman.

“Go home,” he said waving.

20 minutes later Luigi asked if anybody could hear that. “Can you hear that?” he asked. He looked around. There was nobody with him. Where did they go? Luigi felt he should go. He was very drunk  but he could hear something and it was getting louder. He extended an arm and leant on the wall so he could concentrate on using his ears 100%. “What i-” Luigi sobered up faster than anybody has ever sobered up before. His eyes were wide and focussed. “Oh fuck!” he mouthed a split second before Mario knocked the wall down with his big hammer.

Eventually the hammer started blinking in and out of existence but by then it was too late. The pub was laid to waste.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Luigi but Mario just was rooted and surveying the damage just by turning his neck. “Mario, let’s-a-go!” and hearing that Mario snapped into life.