My eyes filled with white afterimages from the light bulbs overhead. My head buzzed from the knock it had received from the wall. I put my hand to it and sat up, violently shaking. I watched as two dozen streams of freezing toilet water flowed and dripped to the floor below.

My gaze then fell on the toilet. The green pipe was gone. The toilet, being a pristine white, showed no signs of it having ever been there. I couldn't find a scratch on it.

How could have that even happen? All I did was accidentally drop a toothbrush in it while it flushed, and... Well, maybe it was best that I didn't overthink it. The toilet had stopped overflowing. That was good enough for me, though that didn't mean it would work. I wasn't flushing it until somebody, not me, tried it first.

I stood, using the closed laundry basket for support. Where did we keep the broom? The hallway closet? This mess needed to be cleaned up before Father got home.

Staggering into the hall, I found myself surrounded by numerous puddles. I marched through them, ignoring how my socks stuck to my feet.

I found a brown wooden broom surrounded by a dozen boxes when I opened the closet door. My father hadn't touched them in all the years we had lived here. From what I remember him telling me, they were all full of things from his childhood. I never really asked him about them or investigated myself, and still didn't as I snatched the broom and trekked back to the bathroom to begin the strenuous task of cleaning the floor.

How could I tell Father about this? If he knew what happened, he would definitely complain about having to waste money on a plumber.

I moved the broom slowly across the floor, watching it soak up water. Eventually, I picked it up and dumped it in the sink. Once I had squeezed as much water as I could out of the broom, I dropped it on the floor again.

This may be a stupid question, but was this even how someone used a broom? A maid we called every week or two usually did the cleaning, not me. In fact, I barely recall the last time Father made me do chores. It must've been years. Call me a spoiled brat, if you will...

While I carried on with my task, I couldn't help wondering what may have happened if I had gone into the pipe. Obviously, I would've been taken somewhere if it worked like it did in Mario's games. But where, exactly, was a mystery.

I sighed as my mop met the wall. I missed my one chance for an adventure! I could have gone and, well, who knows what would have happened next.

My mop met the wall again. I lifted it up. I moved on. Rinse, repeat.

Maybe if I had been lucky, I would have met Princess Peach and she'd be kidnapped. Then the Bros would go rescue her, and I could've seen those two in action! After that-

The mop came to an abrupt stop, jolting me out of my trance. "Hm?" I lifted it up again.

Oh. It was the pencil I had worn on my ear earlier. I bent down to grab it. Before the bathroom fiasco, I had been completely focused on finishing my late essay for history class.

Thinking about that essay now, maybe I definitely should have gone down the pipe when I had the chance. School honestly sucked. I could use a break from it, even if it were a few weeks earlier than usual.

My gaze fell to the floor yet again. I moved the broom towards the wall again-

The broom slipped from my grasp, making a splash in the water, and I did a double take where my pencil had been.

The memory of the red flash played through my mind. Didn't it occur before I hit the wall?

I bent down, keeping my eyes on the red object on the ground. First the pipe, and now I'd found a red hat, complete with a red "M" at the front.

I picked the hat up, sucking in my breath. The fabric, much like denim, was rough under my fingers. I rotated it so that the "M" directly faced me and lifted the hat above my head.

The pipe had been real. The hat felt real. What evidence would I need to prove otherwise?

It wasn't Luigi's hat, but… Well, being a tiny bit of a Super Mario fan, I preferred the green, skinnier brother. Sure, he was a coward, but Luigi always came through in the end. Heck, his jumps were higher than Mario's, and yet they call Mario "Jumpman". Luigi's voice is lower and more serious too. That's a thing I like in a person.

The, uh, seriousness, I mean.

Meanwhile, what did Mario have going for him? A cardboard personality. Smaller jumps that often sent me falling down bottomless pits. A high-pitched voice; the tone of a guy enjoying himself even as he was about to burn in a pool of lava for the one-millionth time. How could a guy be so upbeat when the princess got kidnapped on a regular basis and always ended up being in another castle?

Look, it wasn't like I hated Mario. My problem was that he never seemed to be a character. The star of his own series normally was just there, while everyone else took the spotlight.

I turned towards the mirror, which rested above the toilet and sink. Rotating the hat around, I watched the "M" in the reflection.

It's kinda big.

You've seen how big that guy's head is, right? How do you expect the hat to fit?

Meh. I threw it on. A portion of red, the front of the hat, blocked the top of my vision. I pushed it back.

My hair complimented the hat despite it being a shade closer to Daisy's than Mario's. Strands curled around my ear and stopped right at my neck. I found it best to keep it short what with how long hair wasted time that I could allocate to literally anything else.

As much as I'd hate to say it, that time could go into writing that stupid essay. I had to get back to my room soon to finish it. And, you know, maybe I should wear red more often. It looked rather good on me.

And then I saw it. Something wrong with my face. Warmth. The small smile plastered on my mirror image.

My mouth and eyebrows curved downwards into a scowl.

The girl in the mirror copied me.

I glared at her as I tore the hat off.

She glared back.

Then the doorbell rang and tore us apart.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Father," I gasped, opening the front door.

The tall man on the porch held a brown briefcase in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. His eyes lit up when he saw me standing there.

"Hey," he said. "Thanks for getting that for me." He walked into the house.

I shut the door behind him. "You're, uh, home early."

He set down his stuff. "All the major roads are closed. I should've checked the news this morning."

"You forgot that I was staying home today?"

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled. "You haven't missed a day of school this year."

"I suck at getting sick."

"Guess you inherited my immune system," Father said, grinning. He stretched his arms. "Could you put the groceries away? I need to take a shower."

And the shower was in… The bathroom. Darn it! I should have checked to see if the toilet worked first. "I'll, uh, do that," I said.

"Thanks, Sammy." With that, he was on his way.

I picked up the grocery bag as he walked down the hallway towards the bathroom. My breath got caught in my throat as he went around the corner-

"Why is the floor wet?"

I've said it before, so I'll say it again. DARN IT! I'd forgotten about the hallway! "I, uh, took a shower earlier."

"Did you forget a towel?" he asked, peeking out from the behind the corner.

"Uh, yeah?"

"I'll wipe it up," Father said. He lifted his arm up in a shrug and returned behind the wall. "Make sure you remember next time."

"Okay!" I called after him, my voice gaining a suspiciously high-pitched tone.

I bit my lip to keep myself from cringing and snatched up the grocery bag. It was time to put this stuff away.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Our expansive kitchen didn't fit a family of two and a cat. Despite this, it was ours. On one end, as I almost walked into it, was the dinner table, which Tabitha sat on top of.

She and I exchanged glances.

I reached down to pat her on the head. "Hey."

She whimpered and shivered pitifully. Water dripped from her fur. Behind her was the radiator, which pumped heat into the room.

"You'll be fine," I said, pulling my arm from behind my back. It held the Mario hat. "Would you mind if I left this here while I unpack?" I dropped it on the table and went across the room with the bag.

I sorted the items. Milk went in the fridge, as did the container of butter. The pretzels, Father's favorite snack, belonged in the cabinet next to the stove. And finally, there was a box of pasta.

"Heck yeah," I muttered. Maybe we were having spaghetti tonight. It would be a change from the excess bread Father bought last week.

I worked on putting the groceries away. In the background, Tabitha licked herself. I heard her grunts all the way from the stove.

Speaking of the stove, the pretzels had to be put away. Unfortunately, I was short.

Why couldn't I have inherited Father's height too? I could barely touch the middle shelf. Leaping up got me nowhere and I found it ridiculous to climb up to the shelves. What if Father walked in and saw me? Worse, I could not squish the pretzels in with about a dozen jars on the bottom shelf.

The cat was still licking herself.

I came back to the table. All that way left was the pretzels. Maybe it was best to let him figure it out.

I put the pretzel bag on the table.

Tabitha stopped what she was doing to stare at the bag. She lowered her leg and positioned herself so that she could stare at the pretzels.

"That's not for you," I said. I reached behind her for the Mario hat.

I only felt the uncomfortably warm, hard table behind her. I peered around the cat.

It wasn't there at all.

"Tabitha, what did you do to the hat?" I asked as I looked under the table.

I didn't see it on the ground either. Confused, I lifted my head.

That was when I saw red. The shelf pretty much blocked me from looking upwards.

I gasped and tore it off my head.

Tabitha and I traded glances.

I could've sworn that I had taken it off. Hell, I remembered doing that. It was clear as day in my mind, even!

My hands shook. It would be stupid of me to think it'd come back to me on its own. Maybe I was having an episode of deja vu or wasn't paying full attention when I first came in here. Or maybe it'd been sitting on my head all along?

I lowered the hat back onto the table. Yeah, maybe it was one of those things. So I let go of it and turned around. The instant my eyes left the table, though, there was a sound like if Tabitha had knocked down the hat.

I whirled around at that moment.

The hat was gone again.

I plucked it off my head instead. "Uh… Hi?"

I tossed the hat back, turning away again. It showed up again. This happened several more times.

I finally gave up after maybe the tenth attempt. I hugged it to my chest.

What was going on here? This was not how Mario's hat behaved in the games. Once it was off, it was off, and that was that.

"Sam?" Father yelled. "Where's my toothbrush?"

I snapped back to reality.

Father's toothbrush? Oh no.

"I have no idea!" I shouted back, glancing at the hat.

"I kinda need it!" he said.

Was he brushing his teeth in the shower again? I thought I'd told him to knock it off! "Don't know!" I said. "Sorry!"

He sighed. The bathroom door slammed shut.

I went back to the bag, but a thought hit me there. What if he found out about the whole toilet thing? Had he tried using it yet? Maybe it was best for me to run upstairs before he yelled at me.

I left Tabitha alone with Father's pretzels and went down the hall towards the front entrance. Across from it was a staircase that I made a turn on to. After making another turn up the steps, I reached my bedroom. Or, as I liked to call it, my safe haven.

I got inside and locked the door behind me. At least Father couldn't tell me to go to my room when I was already there.

I jogged over to my desk, which was across the room from me, and tossed both the Mario hat and the pencil from my ear down. As I pulled out my armchair, I kept my eyes trained on the hat. Just what was I supposed to do about this?

I turned on the lamp above my desk.

No matter what I did, the hat always came back to me. How was I supposed to get rid of it?

Is it cursed? Will I need an exorcist?

Well, maybe if I did believe in such a thing as demons.

Is it cursed? Will I need an exorcist?

The words echoed in his mind as he slowly woke up.

I can't even concentrate on this thing anymore! Why did I start talking about kettles?

…What?

Maybe I'll go back and throw this entire thing out later. The mysterious voice continued.

Going by the higher-pitched tone, maybe it belonged to a girl? That was his best guess.

But what was going on? Why did he feel weightless?

Stupid toothbrush, the girl's voice groused.

Toothbrush? He couldn't see. Everything was dark.

The voice spoke again. I wasn't paying attention for a second! How did this thing come back that quick?

I'm not following, he thought. And he would have been if he hadn't lost consciousness.

…

…

…