There I was, taking one of my monthly walks through the forest. Normally, I only come across frogs kissing each other and telling me not to stare, and the odd satanic ritual. Nothing crazy.
However, this day was different. I saw something that I could never forget.
It was a lukewarm day. The air was humid and the sun was partially out, if not blocked by a few clouds. My pockets were filled with many different rocks that I found along the way, as it had become a common practice for me to offer these rocks to the Forest Gnomes at the end of my walk. This practice gave me free rein in the forest, as well as extra protection from the Gnomes.
It felt like a regular forest-walking day until I heard a distinctly Italian scream, followed by strange-sounding rapid footsteps that I can only describe as “boing-y”. Before I could fully turn around, I felt a hand grab the back of my shirt and twist me around. It was Mario. He looked terrible. He was covered in dirt and grazes. He smelled awful.
“You gotta help me! There’s something in the forest!” Mario said, with a sharp look of terror in his eyes, “Don’t touch the mushrooms. You can’t eat the mushrooms here!”
I didn’t know what to do. I was speechless. I didn’t expect Mario to be a good six inches shorter than me. I know that’s a weird thing to focus on, but it was a little jarring. The Gnomes had told me when I had first started these forest walks to never eat the mushrooms here but didn’t explain why. I trusted their judgement as much as I respected their appreciation of a good rock, so I didn’t question it. Now I know why.
What I saw trailing behind Mario… It was horrifying. Disgusting. Putrid. A monster. This… thing… could be mistaken for a Toad if you saw it from far away. However, the closer it got, the more apparent it was that this was no friend of Mario. Fleshy mushrooms covered its pulsating body. It excreted a strange ooze that reeked of sewage. It looked starving.
And it was coming right for Mario.
I was terrified. A plumber that had often been described as a fearless hero was suddenly standing in front of me with piss riddling his overalls. The energy radiating from Mario seemed more akin to the fear of everything (but Waluigi) that Luigi has. If this beast was something that turned Mario crazy, what could I possibly do?
Nothing. I could do nothing. So I froze.
Mario shook me, screaming, “What’s wrong with you, man?! Do something!” That got to me. “Do something? What the fuck am I supposed to do? You’ve taken down dinosaurs, I’m just walking here!” I said. Mario didn’t like that, threw me to the ground and continued to run. He put me in the direct line of this monstrosity. What an asshole!
I thought that was it for me. Right there, on that once-normal day of collecting rocks for the Forest Gnomes, was going to be the day that I died. I looked back on my life and felt incredibly underwhelmed, and I curled into a ball and accepted my fate. However, I didn’t perish. The beast squelched past me, its cold black eyes looking my way for a moment and its razor-ridden mouth opening to eerily whisper:
“This is not your battle. You are not our special little treat.”
And off it went in Mario’s direction. I was safe from the beast, it had no desire to crunch on my bones. Awesome!
The fear left my body and was replaced with a morbid curiosity and a penchant for being a messy bitch that lives for drama. I got up, dusted myself off, and followed the cat and mouse.
Hiding behind a rock, I caught up to Mario who was panting in front of a cave. Thinking this would be a great bit of content, I whipped out my phone to take a picture of the guy, but I realised he was not alone and I think he did too. A hot, smelly wind blew out of the cave, and a fungus-covered tentacle shot out of the opening and grabbed Mario’s leg.
As Mario was dragged into the cave, he let out a blood-curdling scream. And then he was gone, with his hat sitting at the entrance. I ran out to the exit of the forest to tell the Forest Gnomes what I saw (and to give them my rocks), and they all laughed and told me I was just imagining things, and that my story was a result of “rock-collecting hysteria”.
It was real, though. I saw it. Maybe I’ll go look in the cave next time, and prove to them that what I saw was real.
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