A Picnic Fit For Mario

Illustration for article titled A Picnic Fit For Mario

As seen on Flickr via The Tanooki.


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After all of those years of struggling to save his wife from reptilian assault, I really wonder whether imagery of his unending battlefield would give him a great sense of accomplishment or exacerbate his terrible trauma.

I mean, you're forging through pipes for days on end, killing every living thing you encounter, just to find out that your wife is in another well-guarded fortress. I'm surprised by the 7th world, he isn't cursing the gods of fate whom let his wife have her innocence stolen by be-shelled monsters...

After the years of bloodshed, must he come home to people minimizing his sacrifice? Must he see colorful reminders of a world people don't realize was very real for him?

He fought and died many times for his beloved princess, and a few times, he even saved the galaxy. Yet, he comes home and sees these horrific treats while he's reading his morning paper. Counseling has helped; he no longer becomes violent. But the screams inside him still remain very real. Screams that acknowledge the echoing of mushroom innards popping all over him and the hopeless pleas of turtles stuck in an endless loop, turned upside-down, speeding ever onward.

He relates to the turtles' plight; for he knows that any day now, some tragedy may befall his young family once again. His brother has long gone mad, seeing ghosts wherever he goes. But he still keeps just enough sanity to get through the day. Just incase the amused gods of fate decide to place another coin in the slot of destiny and start another war for their ample amusement.

In the end, he solemnly muses:

"All the world's just a series of platforms, and all the men and women merely players 1 and 2: they have their warp tubes and their spontaneous doors; and one man in his time plays many parts, from tanuki to fireman. His acts being eight worlds..."