David's Tale
There once were two plumbers, the best in the biz,
Who one day learned what adventure really is,
When after working on some fateful pipe,
They were taken from their job of little hype,
And were dropped in the middle of a foreign land,
With pipes galore stretching across the sand.
The people of this land were a type of fungus,
Sentient at that, though small, not humongous.
They seemed to be despairing, that was clear,
And t was found it was because they'd lost their princess dear.
The plumbers were approached by a fungus named Toad,
Who beseeched the men to bring her back to her abode.
Without a thought the plumbers agreed,
Asking no reward, for they were men without greed.
They then were told she was taken by Bowser, the fiend,
Who would not rest until the kingdom he gleaned,
And with Princess Toadstool in his hands,
The fungi were powerless to defend their lands,
And thus he sat in his castle in pools of lava,
Diabolically laughing while sipping some java,
Letting his minions tear his kingdom to bits,
Sitting back, not using his wits,
But he was soon to be ambushed for sure,
As new heroes in the land did stir,
Two plumbers by the names Mario and Luigi,
From Brooklyn, mind you, not Taiwan or Fiji.
However, assured as he was, Bowser had his spies,
And when he learned of the populous' joyous cries,
That they'd be rescued, salvaged and saved,
To his strategic adviser he ranted and raved,
And they came up with a plan to detour the heroes,
With minions and worlds that would leave them zeros.
All the help the heroes had were shrooms and the occasional coin,
Flowers that made them spit fire saved them from kicks to the groin,
When thus it came to be that the plumbers reached a castle,
There with many minions and Bowser they did rassle,
But ho! This one was a fake! In another castle was he!
Bowser set up fakes, hoping the plumbers would flee,
For they progressively were harder, and though each a success,
Every time they grew weary, they were tired, I profess.
Give up they did not, their spirit did not lack,
Though it took eight castles until the real one they could hack,
They had to swim through treacherous water,
Jumping gaping pits, some filled with lava, which were hotter,
Dodge the ammo of ca-cannons, kill turtles throwing hammers,
Diffuse dangerous b-bombs, leave all their earthly glamours,
The last challenge they would face would not end their time,
Falter they would not, they didn't feel like dying.
Peril after peril they crossed, near death they did reach,
They were weary when the true Bowser's base they did breach,
They both ran across the bridge where the enemy was standing,
Spitting fire and throwing hammers, jumping up and then landing,
Once across the bridge Mario jumped upon an axe of gold,
And Bowser fell to his death in lava, where never again he'd be cold.
They raced past this into the castle's dismal dungeon room,
And when they found her each wished that he did groom,
For a beauty she was, there was no doubt,
The brothers thought her one worthy to fight about,
Each asked her out, each was mad at the other,
What a beaut she must be, to turn brother against brother.
Do not fret, the princess assured them as they fought,
I don't want my saviors to fight because they think I'm hot,
There's no reason, don't take that family feud fall!
I'm rather flexible, there's enough of me for all!
With that word all was good and well,
They lived forever in mushroom land rather than return to hell,
And there my friends, does my story end,
About heroism and the luck it does send.
Words Between those in the Van and David
The men in the car hollered and cheered,
For after such a situation they often leered,
Their spirits rose and they guffawed in glee,
But the girls sat and stewed, rather stoically,
Now who, David dared, has a story now,
That could be good at all compared to my fine row!
At this one could stay silent no longer,
I'll tell one, you dopey crack monger!
It was Veronica, fuming for the rights of her gender,
As she felt such a threesome really did offend her,
You play too many video games, and you're a sex fiend too!
I'll tell a story that will wipe the floor with the likes of you!
You're a he-bitch man-whore and I'd beat you down,
If our honorable chaperone wouldn't beat me sound.
I'll tell a story of real heroics, not the spewing of hormones,
And I'll beat you over the head if anyone zones,
For though it's never good to tell a tale in anger,
Poetry is best with a bit of angst in the hanger,
So sit back and watch your butt be blown away,
Because unlike yours, my story won't be gay!
David thus raised the proper addressing finger,
And Veronica paid him double, a real zinger,
Now listen carefully and shut your cake holes,
This one ought to rattle your unholy souls,
Leave your viagra behind, passengers here,
It won't help you after the horrors you will fear,
When you hear of the most diabolical villain on earth,
And how she was stopped in her Machiavellian mirth.