Dear Luigi,
I am writing this not only as your brother but as your friend.
I haven't heard from you in many months, and I'm starting to worry. It's not like you not to call, not to write. Ma's been worried sick. She keeps setting a place for you at the table. When I tell her you're not coming she slaps me. I hear her crying at night. Toad's fallen in with a leather gang. He came by the house yesterday with his new friend Rascal, who smelled like five different colognes. Ma came out and asked why Rascal was wearing a leash and it was a whole big thing. Toad peeled off in his kart and I don't think we'll see him again. Yoshi keeps sitting by the door. He won't eat. He won't sleep. We're all lost without you.
I know it hasn't been easy for you. I remember how excited you were when you landed Spaghetti Time, and how it crushed you when they realized the game needed a format change and they looked to burgers because, as they told you, "Spaghetti doesn't sell." You tried to plead with them, even shaving your mustache to appear more "American" as the chef, but they went with that younger punk instead. I know that stung. And I'm sure it must've stung when I got the Donkey Kong gig, and it got so popular that they started using my real name.
I managed to convince the suits to hire you so we could work as a team, and while I expected gratitude all I felt was resentment. "Why is it 'Mario Bros'?" you would tell me. "After all they don't call it 'The Brothers Dmitri.'" You were always taking yourself so seriously in those days. Try to enjoy the success, I'd say. It's fleeting. I'd try to get you to loosen up at Zelda's crazy parties (remember when Mega Man stole Bionic Commando's grappling gun and used it to fondle Samus, only she thought it was that guy from Contra?), but you'd only leave in a huff and play Elliott Smith records in your room.
I can only say I'm sorry so many times. I'm sorry that I became the face of Nintendo and not you. I'm sorry that they made you the "coward" even though we both know you're the only one who could do this stuff without special effects. I'm sorry that you only got to play in two player games for so long, and usually then only with the kid's younger sister who'd jump you right into the canyons and laugh as you fell. I'm sorry that because of that I got to spend so much time with Peach. I'm sorry that I didn't realize what feelings you had for her until we were already fucking six times a day. I'm sorry I kept telling about all the depraved and degrading stuff she'd want me to do to her. I'm sorry that when I dumped her she cut off one of your testicles thinking you were me (although it was your fault for wearing red that day). I'm sorry you invested your nest egg in R.O.B. Most of all I'm sorry that I'm writing this letter.
I hope we can be a family again some day. I hope we'll do stupid shit together like we used to, like going to the zoo to taunt Donkey Kong. I hope you'll be there to help me in 50 years when my brain contusions leave me a rotting vegetable of a man. Most of all, I hope you read this letter and are reminded of how much you are loved and respected, not only by me but by millions of fans around the world who think of you as more than just [s]a Mario brother[/s] Mario's brother.
Yours in brotherhood and Christ,
Mario
I am writing this not only as your brother but as your friend.
I haven't heard from you in many months, and I'm starting to worry. It's not like you not to call, not to write. Ma's been worried sick. She keeps setting a place for you at the table. When I tell her you're not coming she slaps me. I hear her crying at night. Toad's fallen in with a leather gang. He came by the house yesterday with his new friend Rascal, who smelled like five different colognes. Ma came out and asked why Rascal was wearing a leash and it was a whole big thing. Toad peeled off in his kart and I don't think we'll see him again. Yoshi keeps sitting by the door. He won't eat. He won't sleep. We're all lost without you.
I know it hasn't been easy for you. I remember how excited you were when you landed Spaghetti Time, and how it crushed you when they realized the game needed a format change and they looked to burgers because, as they told you, "Spaghetti doesn't sell." You tried to plead with them, even shaving your mustache to appear more "American" as the chef, but they went with that younger punk instead. I know that stung. And I'm sure it must've stung when I got the Donkey Kong gig, and it got so popular that they started using my real name.
I managed to convince the suits to hire you so we could work as a team, and while I expected gratitude all I felt was resentment. "Why is it 'Mario Bros'?" you would tell me. "After all they don't call it 'The Brothers Dmitri.'" You were always taking yourself so seriously in those days. Try to enjoy the success, I'd say. It's fleeting. I'd try to get you to loosen up at Zelda's crazy parties (remember when Mega Man stole Bionic Commando's grappling gun and used it to fondle Samus, only she thought it was that guy from Contra?), but you'd only leave in a huff and play Elliott Smith records in your room.
I can only say I'm sorry so many times. I'm sorry that I became the face of Nintendo and not you. I'm sorry that they made you the "coward" even though we both know you're the only one who could do this stuff without special effects. I'm sorry that you only got to play in two player games for so long, and usually then only with the kid's younger sister who'd jump you right into the canyons and laugh as you fell. I'm sorry that because of that I got to spend so much time with Peach. I'm sorry that I didn't realize what feelings you had for her until we were already fucking six times a day. I'm sorry I kept telling about all the depraved and degrading stuff she'd want me to do to her. I'm sorry that when I dumped her she cut off one of your testicles thinking you were me (although it was your fault for wearing red that day). I'm sorry you invested your nest egg in R.O.B. Most of all I'm sorry that I'm writing this letter.
I hope we can be a family again some day. I hope we'll do stupid shit together like we used to, like going to the zoo to taunt Donkey Kong. I hope you'll be there to help me in 50 years when my brain contusions leave me a rotting vegetable of a man. Most of all, I hope you read this letter and are reminded of how much you are loved and respected, not only by me but by millions of fans around the world who think of you as more than just [s]a Mario brother[/s] Mario's brother.
Yours in brotherhood and Christ,
Mario







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