Mario's angst

The main hall of SMG4’s Showgrounds castle was unusually quiet. It was the kind of silence that usually preceded a disaster, but for once, the cause was peaceful. Mario was gone. He had mentioned something about a "spaghetti pilgrimage" to a distant factory three towns over, leaving the rest of the gang to enjoy a rare, concussion-free afternoon.

SMG4 lounged on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression. Meggy was polishing her Splatgun, though her movements were sluggish. Tari and Belle were playing a handheld game in the corner, while Melony napped on a pile of cushions, her head resting on Fishy Boopkins’ lap. Bob was busy trying to see how many spoons he could balance on his blades.

"Is it just me, or is it almost *too* quiet?" Meggy asked, breaking the silence. She looked around the room, her brow furrowed. "I usually have to dodge at least three flying plates by this time of day."

"Don't jinx it," SMG4 muttered, not looking up. "Let’s just enjoy the sanity while it lasts."

The massive television screen at the front of the room suddenly flickered to life. Static hissed through the speakers, drawing everyone’s attention.

"Is it a new meme?" Boopkins asked, his eyes widening with hope.

"I didn't turn it on," SMG4 said, sitting up straight and reaching for the remote. He pressed the power button repeatedly, but the screen stayed active.

The static cleared, revealing a grainy, old-fashioned home video. The date in the corner indicated it was from decades ago. A small, chubby child with a familiar red cap—though far too large for his head—was sitting on a wooden floor, playing with a set of blocks.

"Is that... Mario?" Tari whispered, a soft smile forming on her face. "He was so cute."

"Look at those tiny overalls," Belle added, leaning forward. "He actually looks peaceful."

The smile on the screen didn't last long. In the background of the video, a heavy door slammed open. The camera shook as if the person filming was trembling. Two figures, tall and shadowed, stepped into the frame. They were Mario and Luigi’s parents, though their faces were obscured by the poor lighting and the angle of the lens.

"Mario! What did we tell you about making a mess in the parlor?" a man’s voice boomed, dripping with a venom that made everyone in the castle freeze.

The little Mario on screen scrambled to pick up the blocks, his tiny hands shaking. "I-I'm sorry, Papa! I was just—"

A heavy hand struck the child across the face, sending him sprawling into the wall. The sound of the impact was sickeningly sharp—a wet thud that echoed through the silent castle hall.

"Don't talk back to me, you worthless brat!" the woman screamed, her voice shrill and hateful.

What followed was a blur of violence that none of them were prepared for. The video wasn't a meme; it wasn't a joke. It was a recorded nightmare. They watched as the young boy they knew as a chaotic, invincible force of nature was broken down, struck repeatedly for the smallest infractions, and belittled with words that would have crushed a grown man's spirit.

Meggy’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and fury. "Stop it," she whispered. "Turn it off, SMG4."

"I can't!" SMG4 yelled, his fingers white as he gripped the remote. "The buttons aren't working! It’s like it’s hardwired into the system!"

Tari hid her face in Belle’s shoulder, sobbing quietly. Even Bob had stopped his antics, his glowing eyes fixed on the screen in a rare moment of genuine shock.

They looked over at Luigi, expecting him to be the most outraged, but the green plumber was curled into a ball in his armchair. He had his hands over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut. He wasn't surprised. He was remembering.

"Luigi?" Saiko asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Did you... did you see this happen?"

Luigi didn't look up. "I stayed in the closet," he choked out, his voice cracking. "They told me if I stayed quiet, they wouldn't hurt me too. Mario... he always made sure they were looking at him instead of me. He'd break something on purpose if he thought they were headed for my room."

The video skipped forward. The years blurred by in a montage of misery. They saw Mario as a teenager, his eyes losing their spark, his body covered in bruises he tried to hide under long sleeves. They saw him being kicked out of the house with nothing but a bag of stale bread and his brother’s hand in his.

As the footage progressed into his early adulthood, the group saw a shift. Mario began to act more erratically. He started making the loud, nonsensical noises they were all used to. He began to obsess over food, specifically spaghetti—the only thing that seemed to bring him a modicum of comfort.

"He’s... he’s not just stupid," SMG4 whispered, a realization hitting him like a physical blow. "He’s traumatized. All the nonsense, the screaming, the acting out... it’s how he copes. It’s how he ignores the pain."

Melony was inconsolable. She clung to Boopkins, her tears soaking into his scales. "We’ve been so mean to him," she wailed. "We call him an idiot every day. We hit him when he does something wrong."

The screen showed a more recent clip—one from only a few years ago. It was Mario sitting alone in the dark of his room in the old castle, crying silently while holding a bowl of noodles. He looked at a photo of the gang, his expression one of pure, desperate longing for acceptance.

"I’ve kicked him into the sun," Meggy said, her voice trembling. "I’ve yelled at him for being a nuisance. I thought he was just being annoying on purpose."

"We all did," Saiko said, her grip tightening on her hammer until the wood creaked. "We treated him like a punching bag because we thought he couldn't feel it."

The screen finally went black, leaving the room in a heavy, suffocating darkness. No one spoke. The only sound was the muffled sobbing of Tari and Melony. They felt a collective weight of guilt that threatened to crush them. They had spent years mocking the man who had survived a literal hell, only to come to them for a family he never had.

The heavy front doors of the castle creaked open. A bright shaft of sunlight cut through the gloom.

"Ooh, boy! Mario is back!" a cheerful, high-pitched voice echoed through the hall. "And I got the mega-pack! It has three different kinds of meatballs! It’s a spicy day for Mario!"

Mario skipped into the room, swinging a grocery bag wildly. He was humming a disjointed tune, his eyes wide and vacant in that way they usually found irritating. He stopped in the center of the room, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

"Hey, why is everyone sitting in the dark?" Mario asked, tilting his head. "Did SMG4 forget to pay the bill again? You know, if you eat the lightbulbs, you don't need the electricity. It makes your tummy glow!"

He let out a loud, goofy laugh, expecting someone to tell him he was a moron.

Instead, there was a blur of motion.

"Mario!" Meggy screamed, being the first to reach him. She tackled him into a hug so fierce it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

"Wha— Meggy? Is it Hug-A-Stupid-Italian Day?" Mario asked, his arms flailing.

Before he could process it, the rest of the gang descended on him. SMG4 grabbed his shoulder, his eyes red-rimmed. Tari and Melony clung to his legs, sobbing. Even Saiko and Bob joined the huddle, the latter staying uncharacteristically quiet.

"We’re so sorry, Mario," Tari sobbed into his overalls. "We’re so, so sorry."

"I'm sorry I called you a fat idiot last week," Boopkins wailed. "You can have all my anime! Just don't be sad!"

Mario stood frozen. The grocery bag slipped from his hand, the meatballs rolling across the floor unheeded. The goofy expression on his face slowly began to melt away, replaced by a look of profound, chilling confusion. He looked over the sea of heads at Luigi, who was standing at the back of the group, his face buried in his hands.

"You..." Mario’s voice was different now. It wasn't the loud, cartoonish tone he usually used. It was low, raspy, and sounded far older than he looked. "You saw it. Didn't you?"

The room went cold. The air seemed to leave the hall.

SMG4 pulled back slightly, looking Mario in the eye. "We saw the video, Mario. We saw what they did to you. Why didn't you ever tell us?"

Mario was silent for a long time. He didn't move, didn't blink. The "dumb" mask he wore every day had shattered completely, leaving behind a man who looked exhausted beyond measure.

"Because it’s Mario’s job to make people laugh," he said quietly. "If Mario is sad, then everyone is sad. And if everyone is sad, then the bad people win."

"The bad people are gone, Mario," Meggy said, her voice breaking. "We’re your family now. Real family doesn't do that. Real family... they protect you."

Mario looked down at her, a single tear escaping and rolling down his cheek into his mustache. He looked at his hands, then back at his friends—the people who had, in their own way, been his world for years.

"I thought if I was loud enough, I wouldn't hear the screaming in my head," Mario whispered. "I thought if I was stupid enough, the memories wouldn't be able to find me."

Luigi finally stepped forward, pushing through the group to wrap his arms around his brother. "They can't find you here, Mario. I promise. I won't let them."

Mario let out a long, shuddering breath. The tension that seemed to have been locked in his shoulders for decades finally began to dissipate. He leaned his head against Luigi’s, closing his eyes.

"Does this mean I get extra spaghetti for dinner?" he asked, though the joke lacked its usual punch. It was a plea for normalcy.

"You can have all the spaghetti in the world, Mario," SMG4 said, wiping his eyes and forcing a small smile. "I’ll buy the whole factory."

"And I'll help you train," Meggy added, squeezing his arm. "But only if you want to. No pressure. We can just... watch a movie. A nice one."

Mario looked around the circle of faces. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like he had to perform. He didn't have to be the glitchy, spaghetti-obsessed avatar of chaos. He could just be Mario.

"Okay," Mario said softly. "Mario would like that."

As the group led him toward the couch, surrounding him like a living shield against the world, Mario felt a warmth he had never truly understood before. The scars were still there, hidden beneath the red fabric and the layers of trauma, but for the first time, he felt like they might finally start to heal.

Bob looked at the rolling meatballs on the floor and then back at the group. "I'm sTiLl NoT gIvInG hIm My MoNeY, bUt I gUeSs He CaN hAvE tHe BiG cHaIr ToDaY."

"Shut up, Bob," everyone said in unison.

Mario chuckled, a genuine, quiet sound. "Yeah. Shut up, Bob."

The castle was quiet again, but this time, it was the kind of silence that felt like a beginning rather than an end. They sat together, a fractured family mending its pieces, while outside, the sun set over the kingdom, casting long shadows that no longer seemed quite so frightening.