Where we're headed now is an old farm up north they call The Yoshi Ranch. At The Yoshi Ranch, people come by to see all the yoshi. All the yoshi are here by choice. For a yoshi, you get an endless supply of food and all you have to do is pose for little kids and let them ride you around a bit.

This is around the time Mamu released the controversial album that reached Beanbean Kingdom's charts. His song featured a riff that Yoshi Fan Club president Boddle claimed came from one of his Broadway productions and Boddle threatened to sue.

This time, I'm the one driving and we're headed up the dirt road to Chuckleby. Cassie turns to me. Her mouth aimed right at me, she runs her overgrown fingernails through Toshi's mullet wig, now purple, and says, "Like it? I washed out the grease and dyed it purple." She flips her hair the way Prince Peasley does it, just without the blinding shine.

Through the rear view mirror, I see the yoshi trailing behind us with their eggs in miniature containers between them. To visualize this, think of a camel train. Think of all these camels walking in line on a desert path the way they show them in the movies. Now think, instead of camels, you have yoshi. This is a yoshi train.

By now we have saved 20 yoshi from their boring lives. We have made 20 lives useful.

If eight yoshi working in shifts can infiltrate a castle and defeat a troubled king, how many yoshi will it take to take over the world?

Reaching for the rear view mirror, Cassie takes out her tube of mascara and strokes her eyelashes with the wand. Batting the mascara on her eyes together, Cassie blows her reflection a flirty kiss.

Girls will be girls.

Snapping the wand back in place, Cassie tells me that's not true. She says you are only what you want to be. And it's only after you know what you want to be that you can be certain about anything you do.

I reach into my eye hole to wipe the sweat off my forehead. I say it's too hot.

Shooting her eyes upwards at the yoshi train's reflection in the rear view mirror, Cassie says, "But that doesn't mean you can't be useful."

Some people, she tells me, just need guidance. Some people need a pretty face and a gentle hand to tell you what to do. We all did at some point. For some of us, that person is our mother. All living things are set up this way. When ducks hatch, they follow their mother. Blooper babies trail after mom. Huffin' puffins waddle around with their mommy.

Sighing, Cassie leans back against her seat. She says, "The way my parents raised me, they wanted me to be a boy. I mean with birdo, it shouldn't really matter, you'd think. The big difference is, birdo who are supposed to be boys can only shoot fire."

Reaching one hand around her head, Cassie fiddles with the bow in her wig and then straightens it.

"Catherine is such an ugly name," she says. "And really, when you become the ruler of everything, a name like Cassie is just weird. It's just like how we have the word 'god' for deity, but then some people believe there's a God. The quintessential God, you know?"

Cassie offers me her hand and I take it. It's warm. She says, "We're almost there."

Behind me, the sound of 20 freed souls galloping in unison.