To let my readers know, the origin of my story is from a childhood game I used to play with the question, "What would it be like if Super Smash Bros. Characters lived in the same world?" This is what I had came up with.

Chapter 2: Every Celebrity Hits a Rough Spot

Yes, the title includes me too. I was eventually found by the storekeeper and was cooped up into a cage of pet rats. All they did during the day was eat, sleep, go potty, and sleep some more – fairly boring hours, I'd say. There is the occasional squeaking of the hamster wheel, but all there really was to hear was the bubbling of fish tanks.

There was also me to listen to; I yelled, I screeched, clawed, kicked, whimpered, whined. I made such a racket, but stopped short when a fellow cage-mate squeaked "Shut your hatch!"

At night, however, there was always chatter amongst the rodents – night was out time to shine. We sang, told stories, and I was eventually taught how to speak rat fluently and properly. I, too, joined the chorus, but I was never really part of the group. Every evening, after the sun goes down, I watch friends scurry around the cage, playing a lively game of tag. During these times, when the younger members flies pass the seed dish, spraying sesame in my face, I wished I could have some friends that would run with me. All I had was the moon, and my rat's nest. I had tried to tell myself "No, Pikachu: you are a LONE ranger. Lone Ranger's don't need any friends."

But Lone Rangers in a pub sometimes enjoys the luxury of a warm chit-chat.

Despite my fierce meditations urging independence, I whimpered often, watching people walk in my isle, hoping one could be my friend. One too many times, I see a boy take a puppy, or a girl with a cat, or even small child with several belly-up goldfish. Will someone ever find a room in their heart to look past puppies and kittens to look at me?

Fortunately, someone did. A little boy in green with a funky cap and blond hair answered my desperate plea. He ran over to my cage and looked straight into my eyes.

Okay, here's a little twist in this story. If you don't like it when you find that a game character's history is changed, stop reading now.

You still there? If you are feeling uncomfortable about a different version of a character's world, stop reading now.

For those who are brave, I congratulate you, but if you ever fell disturbed by my life, feel free to stop reading. It's okay, I won't be offended; I don't know even know you, so I don't really care – no offense.

On to the strange twist; in your world, there is a video game series by Nintendo called Super Smash Bros. Heard of it? Many of you will rise to that name in cheers, and others will not get a clue of it. Basically, that game is about all these different characters from popular Nintendo games com together to fight each other. My life, I'd say, is when you take all the characters from various games and mush it all into one big bedtime story. That is why I call this a Super Smash Story, get it?

I stared at the boy's big blue eyes and funky cap. Does he sound familiar to you? Yes? No? Ah well; ladies and gentlemen, I'd like for you to meet Link from you game Legend of Zelda. I'd like for you people yo know that he is sometimes a pain in the rear in my world, too.

All of a sudden, a tiny head popped up from nowhere. His small, cute face, tiny squeaky voice, and curiosity told me that he was a mere baby, as I was. He looked like a chubby, green lizard.

"Maweeo, Wiji, wooky he-uh!" it exclaimed in it's minuscule squeal.

Two pairs of feet showed up.

"What-a eez it, Yoshi?" one pair said with language I could barely understand (there are some snippets of understand-able English here and there.)

"Ye-woh wat!" the little lizard pointed at me in delight, "See, Wiji, Maweeo?"

"Yes, we-a see." another pair of brown shoes said.

"Can I have it, Mom?" the boy was already at this lady's side - or at least I can guess. With wide shoulders like football stars (I see some on the newspaper shreds that the storekeeper throws inside the cage) and a helmet, I could not see her face, let alone her head. I had a feeling she was ugly – who else would wear that cookie foil unless if it was for hiding grotesque characteristics?

I didn't like being called an "it" either; I have feelings, and a gender. Being fiercely defensive of my opinions I said to him in English,

"Technically, I am Pikachu." I said to the boy, who was immediately back at my cage.

"Wow! He talks!" he commented in surprise. Who wouldn't be surprised if all of a sudden a yellow rat started to talk to you? I felt slightly flattered, but also rather insulted.

"Excuse-ay-mua," I pointed at him, "I am a GIRL, just to put that out there."

"Oh, okay." the boy responded. He looked at me curiously, the gears inside his head turning.

"How did you learn to talk like us?" he asked politely, but he couldn't hide his fascination.

"Hello, goodbye, mama, daddy – I catch on fast." I yawned, looking at my neatly trimmed claws, "English is a WHOLE bunch easier than rat." It was true; by listening to the everyday conversations in this shop, I have achieved the feat of learning several thousand vocabulary words, including "Meow-mix".

I found myself on this new boy's, Link's, lap. He said we had to fly in a plane back to Illinois, where he lived. The lizard I had met earlier ended up going back with his owners holding a bag of several, belly-up, unfortunate fish to Italy. That's what Link said; his uncles from Italy, Mario and Luigi.

Not crazy enough for you? I arrived in Illinois. There, I met the Falcons. Link's father, Captain Falcon (well, isn't this the stuff to make you squeamish), his mother Mrs. Falcon, (or in your world, Samus Aran, which I find the couple rather random), and his baby brother, Ness. There is also Fox McCloud, a fox (as so the name shows) who is a comrade of both Samus and Cap'n Falcon. He sometimes stays to discuss villains on the loose.

For the first several months, I slept in a basket at the bottom of Link's bed. And in those first months, I felt like a newborn horse beginning to wobble on knee-buckled stilts. I was soon equipped with a bow and arrow, targeting bulls-eye targets (I got two bulls-eye's, but that's because it hit the bulls-eye of the target next to the one I was supposed to hit). He also taught me the basics of swordplay, and for hours, we dueled each other, smacking each other with stripped branches from the forest in the backyard, laughing all the time.

In addition to the medieval combat Link kept near and dear to his heart, he also decided to "brush-up" on my reading skills by reading the newspaper. I rarely payed attention, however, for I had learned and connected my readings from the bottom of the old rat cage long ago in a pet shop. When I was in my bored mode, I sneaked glances at the comics and answered "uh-huh, yeah, I know." when Link told me what this word was, or what that word means. Link, my saving grace, was the best friend I could have ever imagined.

Except imagination has no bounds.

Link had turned me loose, saying something about being independent.

I sat outside his bedroom door, alone and heart-torn; I was rejected big time twice already, and I wasn't even two years old yet.

Not cool.

I whimpered, thinking about the days of the safaris of the backyard, the many fortresses that we had to defend. I thought mournfully about the hunts in the woods and target practice. Even reading those dull, monochromatic articles seemed nostalgic to me.

I was so wrapped tightly in my deep thoughts, constricted to the point where I couldn't breathe in sorrow, when I felt something pull sharply, the pain stinging my hindquarters.

I turned around.

And at that moment, while I glared into his large eyes, was the starting point of a lasting friendship. The birth of a friendship that will go from here out and into eternity.

Forever.

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