A Day in the Life of Peach

Miss Glimmer


"You do it."

"No, you do it!"

"Can't you?"

I only have seconds until the inevitable question, so acting quickly is key. I assume an unassuming face and walk out the bathroom door, steam dissipating into the air. I wish I could evaporate that quickly. Alas, I'm no Metaknight or Zelda.

Speaking of Zelda...

"Peach!"

I feign surprise. She's addressed me first. This is both a good thing and a bad thing. It's a good thing because Zelda is a lot less blunt than Samus, the other person involved in the whine-fest, but she always has this condescending look in her eyes, like she's heard it all before, so she knows exactly what to say.

"Did you need the shower? I might have used up all the hot water." I'm prolonging the inevitable. I'm hoping she's blindsided by my question, but my feeble attempts to steer the conversation away are thwarted.

"No, but I was wondering if I could talk to you?" She sounds timid as if I'm going to squash her into a pulp. Which, I might, if I were some commoner who lacks manners. But I'm not. Not yet anyway. So I force on a smile but with my uncooperating jaw I'm guessing I look more like I'm constipated.

"We both were wondering." Samus butts in, when she decides that Zelda's approach doesn't suit her. Good cop, bad cop approach? They certainly don't win points for originality.

I scrub my forehead with my palm, mumbling a, "Sure." Why are they my roommates again? If it had been Daisy, she would've known enough to keep out of it, leaving me alone in my anguish to weep to my heart's content and reemerge a woman with many scars. (And horribly composed poems and other embarrassing unspeakables, but shh! Let's not go there.)

Instead, I'm stuck with a blunt, hot-tempered Samus, and Zelda, sweet, gentle and totally naive. Whoever claimed that Zelda, being the holder of the Triforce of Wisdom, was wise herself is a liar.

A liar, liar pants on fire kind of liar.

Link could profess his undying love, wax poetry about her beauty, and even make babies with her, and she still wouldn't understand that he's totally gaga over her. (And believe me, I've seen some of the poetry folded up in his jeans pocket when it was my turn to do the laundry. It's pretty sappy.)

It could make a girl vomit. She has this nice guy at his knees, whose absolutely gorgeous, and I'm well... I'm...

"Is it true that Ike cheated on you?"

I blanch.

Yep.

That's where I am in regards to the male population.

So I do what any respectable princess does, when they don't want to show anybody that they're an ugly crier just yet.

I bring out my frying pan and imagine Samus's face as Ike's and swing it hard, while letting loose a stream of curse words, most of which I doubt has ever graced Zelda's delicate little elfin ears.

Unfortunately, I've forgotten one tiny detail which goes by this title: Even Though Samus is One of My Best Friends, She Also Posesses a Deadly Instinct to Kill or Seriously Maim/Injure a Person Who Dares Lay a Finger On Her.

Which is how I found myself in the hospital with Zelda and Mario as my only sources of comfort. Well, them and some old reruns of The Young and the Reckless. Not that I watch soap dramas or anything.

Of course not.

Samus is noticeably absent. "She coulda brogen my nose!" Zelda quotes her, doing a perfect imitation of a person whose suffering from a bad nosebleed (Which Samus had), before trying to reassure me that she meant well and didn't mean to almost kill me.

Sure.

At least she didn't break my body. Instead, I look more dried prune than human.

It doesn't help that, when I'm discharged an hour later, Mario apologetically informs me that I have a match in twenty minutes. "Pokemon Stadium, one stock with only bomb items."

This means Motion Sensor Bombs (MSBs), Bomb-ombs, Gooey Bombs, and Smart Bombs are the only items I can use. Joy. The audience loves it; so many explosions, with only one stock! You'd think they hadn't heard of Michael Bay to satisfy that craving.

"Oh great," I groan. Don't get me wrong. I love fighting and stuff, but I'm not the greatest fighter, and with me not doing so hot at the moment physically and mentally... What was Master Hand even thinking? "Well, who is it that I'm facing? Somebody easy, I hope?" I say, hopefully thinking about Luigi or Marth who've both ranked in the bottom two last week.

Mario's face falls even further, confirming the worst. "It's um... Ike."

The universe just loves me, doesn't it? But before I can wax my own poetry on how exactly I feel at the moment (Zelda would have new words to add into her swearing vocabulary upon hearing it, I assure you), the warning bell sounds, signaling that I have to go.

Mario grasps my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He looks like he's about to say something profound but then he only says, "Good luck."

I'm thinking I'll need more than luck. Ike's the favorite amongst people to bet on this year and seeing him on the battlefield, it's easy to see why. I'm not talking about speed, cleverness or even the spammage of projectiles that some Smashers exploit. (Falco, Snake, I'm talking about you.) I'm talking about the brute force that only Ike can wield. One hit from that sword and somebody as light as me is sure to be flying across the field. And have you seen the size of that thing? You don't need precision to get somebody with something that big.

Oh yeah. I'm dead. Thinking about it makes me weak at the knees, and not because of his attractive face.

Before I know it, I'm on the stage, seriously contemplating suicide, when the emcee says, "Go!"

Ike races at me, sword gripped firmly and he's headed straight at me. Gulp.

I dodge his fatal blow, but just barely. The blade of his sword slices away a few strands of hair. Not cool, Peach. It annoys me that he has the nerve to rip a few strands of hair off my face.

Like, seriously, dude? You just ripped out my heart by shoving your tongue down Lyn's throat. The least you could do was spare my hair! But now's not the time to harp on about my hair.

This is our little dance for some time. Me dodging, him swinging like a troll. Twice he actually manages to graze me, but it isn't significant on my damage counter. Still, I'm getting tired of dodging. I haven't managed to hit him at all, though Ike does have some damage on him, due to his inability to get a gooey bomb off him in time.

"You okay, Peach?" he asks, as I neatly dodge a heavy swing of his sword yet again. It's that concern in his voice that makes me finally snap. Who does he think he is, acting concerned for me? The nerve of him!

So I do what I'm best at.

I counter with a slap that connects with his face. You know the smack. The one that sounds like it hurts. Here's why: It actually does hurt.

He rubs his jaw and I'm satisfied to see a very red handprint there. He looks murderous when he looks at me. If I weren't so angry at him, I'd be drooling over how hot he looks pissed.

"That was unnecessary!" he yells, face reddening, suddenly no longer attractive.

Uh oh. Better run. Adrenaline shoots down my body, simaltaneously firing me up and numbing me down. It's the high most Smashers feel when the fight gets intense. I run down the rugged terrain that Pokemon Stadium has turned into and I guess Mario's luck has finally paid off because an MSB drops out of the sky and I grab it and set it behind me. This could come in handy later on.

Or not. Ike's seen me place it though, so he jumps over it.

Great, now what? I know I can't win on brute strength alone, but I want to win. I Peach Bomb him and run off, grabbing a Smart Bomb and hurl it at him and jump off the stage and wait there with my fantastic floating abilities. Did you know I have great floating abilities? Well, I do.

But as the bomb spreads, I realize that he's miraculously dodged the worst of it. Damn. When has Ike ever been fast? My percentage is still higher than his.

I'm so preoccupied with coming up with a new strategy that I don't notice him throwing a Smart Bomb at me. This time, the Smart Bomb hits with precision. I'm in the heart of the bomb and let me tell you, it's no fun being in the center of that thing. It's like being ripped apart a dozen times but it's not as painful as the realization that as soon as the explosion is over, I'll lose. I can't survive this.

Is there still hope though? Maybe. I watch through slitted eyes as Ike runs to avoid the spread of the Smart Bomb he just threw, and miraculously (And stupidly. Thank the toadstools he's stupid.) he steps on the MSB that I set earlier, right as the Smart Bomb's explosion ends. We both go flying, but I can't tell who's won. It's close though.

When I'm transported to see the results, I spot Mario and he smiles at me reassuringly.

"Who won?"

"Hard to tell."

We stare at the black screen in anticipation waiting for the results. Minutes pass, and it's in that time when I cool off and think.

Is it really so important to win against Ike? It seems so dumb now when I can no longer hear the blood pounding in my ears in anger. I did have a good time fighting, though. If there's one thing that can make anyone feel good, it's a close match. I don't care about winning anymore, I decide.

And it's a good thing I've come to that conclusion because a second later the screen declares Ike the winner. It's still vaguely disappointing to see him win, even if it no longer matters to me as much.

"You did great, Peach." I look up to find Mario staring at me. And not in that condescending Zelda way either. He leans in, tilting my face with a warm, comforting hand so I look at him. "My bet is always on you, no matter what. I've never seen a person use a frying pan as lethally as you can." He chuckles.

With that he leaves and as I watch his vanishing silouette, I can't help but wonder whether or not I've been as dense as Zelda when it comes to people's feelings. I obviously don't need a knight, but maybe a plum-

No, that's ridiculous. I'm glad I didn't complete that thought. My cheeks are flaming hot at the idea! It's ridiculous to think about, right?

Still, a girl can dream about the possibilities.

A girl can dream about slamming her frying pan into Ike's face. Ha, kidding. Maybe.


Author's Note: This took me awhile to write. (The word limit had me headdesking, but I finally brought it down to 2000 words!) Since it's for KoopalingFan's contest (Rules available on his profile) I realized that after I was finished, it didn't outright answer the question of what Peach thinks about being in Smash Bros. But I think (Or hope.) if I did this right then it should be apparent how Peach feels about being in Smash Bros even if it wasn't explicitly stated.

Form your own conclusions. There's really no wrong answer!