31 July 1981
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
It was like a scene straight out of a movie. The fiendish villain, standing atop the skyscraper. The beautiful damsel, sweating and wailing and hysterical (well, not that hysterical in this case). The determined, courageous hero, braving perilous obstacles to save the girl. Thousands of feet below, a mass of New Yorkers watched, hardly daring to breathe, as the showdown between hero and villain played out atop a battleground consisting of platforms, I-beams and support structures. Seasoned reporters excitedly narrated the action to millions more watching safe at home on their TVs as cameras maneuvered to capture the money shot.
I was among those spectators.
The hero was my big bro, Mario. The villain was a former circus ape, Donkey Kong, or DK for short. And the damsel was Mario's flame at the time, Pauline. The two were the perfect couple and had been steady since 1977, I think. But that's another story.
My fellow bystanders sought to comfort me as I watched Mario negotiate the perilous obstacle course before him, his trusty hammer in hand. Thank God he worked in the construction business, and on the very project he was scaling, or else he would've been in big trouble. He knew the network of scaffolds like the back of his hand. Craning my neck, I could see him scurry up ladders, dash across scaffolding and leap over the obstacles DK tossed his way, using his hammer to smash the unavoidable ones. As he ascended, his figure grew smaller and smaller, and I could barely see DK or Pauline.
Maybe that was a good thing.
Someone gave me a glass of Scotch, which I knocked back gratefully. Just before Mario disappeared from sight, I shouted up to him:
"Try knocking down some of the scaffolding as you go! That'll stop that ape for sure!"
He glanced down and gave me a quick nod before continuing his self-imposed mission.
I worked as a mechanic at a steel works company, you see, and when the news of Mario's situation broke, my boss and I had a few words before I defiantly marched out of there and onto the scene to give my bro the support he needed. A few of my co-workers had followed me, and now we went to a nearby bar, where we watched the continuing coverage on one of the TVs and downed shots to keep our nerves steady. Then, we shared a plate of sliders and fries. My co-workers were gentle and understanding, not pushing me to make small talk and even praying with me when minutes slid by with no updates. That's more than I could say for my jerk of a boss, who only cared about output.
I won't go much into what happened, by I'll tell you that when I heard DK was subdued and Mario was on his way back down with Pauline, I cried like a baby. God bless my co-workers for not judging me. We rushed back onto the scene, and there was Mario, standing triumphantly with Pauline in his arms. Her hair was disheveled and her dress had a clean tear straight down the middle, but she was safe with the man she loved. Mario brilliantly deflected questions shouted from the reporters and walked briskly up to me.
"Thank God, you're alright!" I exclaimed, hugging him tight.
"Oh, Luigi!" he breathed as he hugged me back the best he could. He was likewise disheveled, and covered in sweat, dirt and bruises. Then, Pauline threw her arms around us both, so it became like a group hug. We just hugged and hugged and hugged, cameras flashing around us, till we were all hugged out. Then, I rode in the ambulance with the reunited couple to the hospital, where they were treated for both physical and psychological trauma.
Don't worry, DK is fine. He landed on a safety net. Mario made it clear that the ape was to be treated well. DK is no ordinary ape—he can read, write and speak fluent English. He understands that Mario is remorseful about his past as a circus trainer, but he's also drawn in by Pauline's beauty. He genuinely loves her, and he doesn't think Mario deserves her. I hope the three of them can talk things out soon.
Right now, I'm relaxing in my apartment, relieved that things turned out okay. I'm still a bit mad at my boss, so I don't think I'll be coming in tomorrow.
Best,
Luigi
5 August 1981
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
My boss has a weird way of making his employees forget their anger at him. He had some flowers sent to Mario and Pauline before apologizing to me for our heated exchange. I decided, "What the heck", and forgave him, but I was also convinced I needed to move on. Today, I went in for an interview with a man named Lanser, owner of one of the largest steel works companies in the New York area. I presented him with my Engineering degree, my SAT scores, my resume, and a list of qualifications. To say that I was charmed by his courteous, soft-spoken manner and plucky wit was an understatement. He'd pay me considerably higher than my current boss, give me an extra sick day, and if I worked hard enough, then he'd consider a raise. I decided to take the job, and I gave my soon-to-be-ex-boss my two weeks' notice later that day.
Mario says that I made the right decision, as the abrasiveness my boss displayed was detrimental to my job performance. Pauline chuckled and said that hopefully losing an employee would teach the jerk a lesson. Still, I'm gonna miss working there. I made a lot of friends, and getting all sweaty and oily from 9 to 5 from Monday to Friday taught me patience and strength. I can't help but think that I overreacted a bit. But working at Lanser Steel Works—that's with the big leagues! There's no sense worrying over the past, because there's only tomorrow, and the days, weeks, months and years stretched out beyond.
Your friend,
Luigi
19 August 1981
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
Today was my first official day as a Lanser Steel Works employee! The workplace was more diverse than my last one, as there were a handful of women sweating away alongside me. During lunch break, I told Mr. Lanser about my falling-out with my previous boss, and he took me aside and told me that if any family emergency strikes, then I don't have to ask. My new co-workers are willing to step up so I can be there for my bro whenever he needs me. Wow, I think I'm gonna like it here!
I'm turning in early tonight; I'm so tired!
Til tomorrow,
Luigi
25 September 1981
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
People have started conversations with me like this: "Hey, you're that guy who's brother saved that girl from that ape!" I simply smile and say yes, and the person proceeds to gush about how my big bro's a hero and that I should be happy to have him around and blah, blah, blah. Everyone around here sings Mario's praises nowadays. They've made an arcade game out of his adventure, and they have T-shirts and mugs and trinkets with Mario's face on them. Mario's the talk of the town, a celebrity, the hero who rose to the occasion to rescue his beloved Pauline from the sinister DK. He's been interviewed by magazines and newspapers and has appeared on popular TV shows, even THE Larry King! Everyone everywhere is buzzing about Mario.
Me? I'm just an everyday mechanic who just so happens to share his blood. Sigh.
I'm happy for him, don't get me wrong. It just starts grating on me after a while, you know? I'm a bit shy, not to mention a confirmed bachelor, save for a few flings in high school and college. I mean, can you picture someone like me doing something like that? I'm flawed, okay? I'm cautious. I'm slow to anger (but when I DO get angry, that's when you run like Hell), a tad awkward, a bit of a klutz (I'm growing out of that one, thank God) and—well—average. Not quite hero material. But DO NOT threaten or harm (or both) my brother in my presence, because I'll do what I have to in order to get him out of harm's way.
So, I'm a regular Joe (or a regular Giuseppe, take your pick—you know what, let's just go with Giuseppe, it kinda rolls off the tongue) with a regular job and a regular-ish life. Said regular job nets me substantial pay. It's not enough to, say, buy me a mansion. But it's enough to put food on the table and pay the bills. It's enough to get me a membership at the nice little street gym not far from my apartment. And it's enough to afford a trip to the arcade every Friday night with my new friends.
We play the game based on Mario's adventure, aptly titled "Donkey Kong". And we also play Pac-Man. When I get sick and tired of having Mario's fame hammered into me, I let out my aggression by navigating the hungry hero through mazes, guzzling dots and grabbing those big Power Dots to chomp down those ghosts. Om-nom-nom-nom-nom. My friends and I laugh about it, and they ask me if I ever see myself doing something like that.
"No," I say. "They should make a movie out of that, though."
"A movie about eating ghosts?" they ask.
"No, a movie about catching them."
"Huh. You ever wanna catch a ghost?"
"If I were to catch a ghost, I wouldn't catch one like that. I'd set a trap. Or maybe—I dunno—vacuum them up, since they're lightweight and all."
"You vacuuming a ghost? That'll be a sight!"
And we laugh.
But seriously, that would be interesting, a vacuum specially designed for ghosts. It would have to be portable, since ghosts like to float around. Maybe one can carry it on their back? We'll have to see.
They should make a movie out of that, too.
Sincerely,
Luigi
5 October 1981
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
After a long day of being a mechanic and a regular Giuseppe while my big bro basks in fame and fortune, I head home, help myself to some dinner—and then lock my doors, crank up my music and dance. Dancing is such a powerful, fun release. Sometimes, I put in a record, but mostly, I just break out my Walkman radio so I don't have to worry about bumping into the turntable and making the record scratch. I dance wearing socks, a pair of pants and nothing else. I surrender myself to the emotions boiling inside me and let my body go. I writhe, twirl, spin, whirl, hop and bop. My hips roll, sway, grind, swivel, undulate. My eyes are closed, the beats guiding my motions. Within minutes, I work up a sweat. I dance and sweat and let loose for hours, and then I take a refreshing shower, dress in clean clothes and visit Mario. We live in the same apartment complex.
When I'm in a really aggressive mood, I head over to that nice street gym after work. I shower first, of course, and then I go hog the cardio area. One of my favorite machines there is the spin bike. I strip off my shirt, swing myself onto the bike and start pedaling, sometimes programming a pre-set workout and other times creating one on a whim. I make them as intense as I can tolerate, slowing only to take a swig of Gatorade. Everything else melts away except for the music in my ears, the rhythm of my pedaling strokes and the sound of my breath, even as sweat starts flying everywhere. I usually feel better after an hour on that spin bike.
The street gym is owned by an affable guy named Josh. It doesn't take long for him to figure out my routine. Nor does it take long for him to earn my trust, or for me to earn his. I tell him about my feelings for my brother since that July day, and he just sits and listens. It feels very good to have a sounding board.
Josh thinks I should talk to Mario about my seesawing feelings. Is he crazy? I don't want to spoil the life he made for himself. He deserves to be famous, because he did a brave, selfless thing. I love Mario regardless, and I look up to him. In him, I see the man I want to become, not some silly celebrity. He's my blood. He's part of me. He's the only man I can dance with. The love I feel for him is so intense, so spiritual, so powerful and rich, that nobody will ever understand it. And at the same time, he's the talk of the town, while I'm a faceless mechanic. I can't help but feel mildly envious. But I can handle it. It's only natural.
I know that Josh is trying to help, but telling Mario how I feel will make me come across as an entitled brat. So, broaching the subject with him is out of the question. Not to worry, though. I have you. You're the best secret keeper of all.
Your confidante,
Luigi
24 November 1981
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
I'm thankful for many things.
I'm thankful for a steady job at Lanser Steel Works, thankful for the friends I've made there, and thankful for Mr. Lanser himself.
I'm thankful for my apartment. It's not Park Avenue, but it's home, it's clean, and it keeps me warm and dry, not to mention it gives me plenty of space to dance my thoughts away.
I'm thankful for Josh and his quaint street gym, for giving me a place to sweat as well as someone to vent to, no questions asked.
I'm thankful for Pauline, one of the best friends I've had the pleasure of making, and for watching her gather the strength to move on from that horrific ordeal.
But most of all, I'm thankful for Mario. When we were kids, and the bullies at school tried to pick on me, he'd tell them to buzz off. His spirit rubbed off on me, as well, for while I took the brunt of the teasing, I'd never let them try their tactics on Mario. A boy named Mitchell found out the hard way after I overheard him calling Mario an ethnic slur. Judging by the look on his face, Mario was ready to wipe the floor with that bully's [bleep], but I did it for him, taking the suspension that would've been imposed upon him. Mario's the reason why I live my life to the fullest, why I smile even when clouds block the sun, why I dance in the rain. I may not share his fame, but I share his sense of right and wrong, his sense of justice. And I love him, and I'll always be there for him when he calls for me, and I'll take his hand whenever he reaches for it. Any day I share with Mario is a good day.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Blessed,
Luigi
25 December 1981
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
Merry Christmas!
Luigi
31 December 1981
Times Square, New York City
Dear Diary,
Another year is about to draw to a close. The ball is about to drop and fireworks are about to explode across the sky. In the New Year, I resolve to better wrangle my envy at Mario's situation and to appreciate what I have, rather than mope over what he has that I don't. I also resolve to maintain my work ethic and become a model employee at Lanser Steel Works. I resolve to spend more time with Mario and Pauline, as there's nothing more important than family. And finally, I resolve to continue confiding in you, so that I won't burst apart inside and do or say something I'll regret.
The ball's about to drop, I'll be back soon!
Auld Lang Syne,
Luigi
22 April 1982
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
Mario regularly visits DK in the facility where he's being held. They're pampering him, and not a single rope has bound him. I can't believe they're on speaking terms after what's happened between them.
Today, my bro brought me along to visit DK. He was very polite; I guess he was testing things out to see how I'd react, seeing that he'd caused some Hell for Mario. We told him that Pauline was doing well, and he grinned. He feels bad about what he did that day, and he wants to make things right. So, I encouraged both DK and Mario to set aside some time to talk things out once and for all. It took some prodding, but eventually they caved.
Then, DK asked to see Pauline. Mario was understandably antsy, but I want to keep an open mind in this situation. I convinced him that Pauline's presence would help them resolve their conflict, and he agreed to talk it over with her.
I look forward to seeing how things turn out.
Your friend,
Luigi
21 June 1982
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
Today was the big day! DK, Mario and Pauline were in a room together, with one talking and the other two listening. Pauline went first, and she talked about how DK's actions took a toll on her health. She'd suffered from nightmares, and she couldn't watch King Kong or any ape-related film or media anymore. She wanted to know what DK had hoped to accomplish by putting her through that Hell. As I served as moderator, I remembered the image of her, with her dress torn cleanly down the middle from top to bottom, and just as quickly shook it away so that I could focus. DK was the next to speak, finally confessing his feelings for Pauline. He talked about how Mario and the other circus trainers made him do difficult tricks for their own enjoyment and the enjoyment of an impassive audience, and that Pauline had no business around such a hard-hearted man. He'd hoped to talk to her, to woo her, but he was so upset at Mario that he'd gave no regard to what Pauline wanted and needed at the moment. Mario, for his part, copped to what he did and conceded that it was wrong, which was why he eventually grew disenchanted with such dirty business and quit the circus to become a carpenter. However, DK's decision to go on a rampage and grab Pauline was the wrong way to handle it, and extremely disproportionate. Why didn't he just talk to him? Why did he have to take it out on poor Pauline and traumatize her so? Why did he set in motion a chain of events which also left Mario injured? Couldn't he have just told him what he wanted? DK admitted that he didn't think, and that he was afraid Mario wouldn't listen. Then, he played his ace—he acts tough and intimidating, but in actuality, he misses his family, he's in a strange, hostile place and he really wants to go home. And then the giant ape cried. That's when Mario and Pauline started crying, too. Crying and hugging just like Mario and I did after the ordeal came to an end. Once he recovered, Mario agreed to try and arrange for DK to return to DK Isle and reunite with his family. DK was so happy that he hugged Mario again and expressed the hope that they could be friends.
"The door's always open," said Mario.
I was so proud of myself! Helping my bro and his girl settle their grudge with their antagonist, turning the loutish villain into a complex, misunderstood anti-villain. Thanks to my intervention, the two learned to forgive DK, DK learned to forgive them, and all three learned to forgive themselves for the role they played in the drama. There were tears in their eyes as they thanked me for helping them see.
Judging by how quiet it is now, tonight is the best sleep Mario and Pauline had in months.
Luigi
31 July 1982
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Diary,
I can't believe it's been a year since the iconic face-off between Mario, the heroic carpenter, and DK, the simian with a score to settle. A year since I stood in a crowd of breathless New Yorkers, watching Mario work his way up the scaffolding toward the imperiled Pauline. A year since that tiff with my ex-boss. A year since Mario showed everyone that there's a hero in all of us.
And look how much has changed! Mario and DK have buried the hatchet, and Pauline is putting that day behind her. DK is on his way back home, and the happy couple have their lives back. The hero, the villain and the damsel found time to sit down and discuss their situation, discovering countless morsels about each other that make them, well, human. And now they've gained a better understanding of what prompted that conflict in the first place. Now, they can part ways with the promise of friendship and peace. Life as they once knew it can resume.
Part of me hopes that the public will also get back to their lives and stop glorifying Mario. But I also realize that it's not that easy. Instead of fleeing the ape, Mario, an ordinary citizen, faced him down. He inspired his fellow man that day. And for that, he'll always be extraordinary. Even so, there are times where I wish I can be extraordinary, too.
Maybe I already am extraordinary, and I just don't know it yet.
Now wouldn't that be something?
Luigi
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