Disclaimer: You don't actually think I own any of the characters, do you?

Mario's Epic Quest for Profits

Chapter One

It was a bright, cheerful day in bustling Diamond City. Joggers were jogging, taxis were taxiing, and vendors were vending. And when people crashed into each other on the sidewalk, their colorful assortment of obscenities was always followed by "have a nice day."

Farther from the busy urban streets, in a quieter and less crowded suburban area, an ornate mansion stood prominently on a hilltop. This was none other than the Smash Estate, the residence for only the biggest Nintendo stars competing in only the biggest fighting tournament ever to hit Diamond City. At least, it used to be, but now it housed some lesser-known stars competing in said tournament, along with other non-fighters who helped with other things.

The man who was quite possibly the biggest of the big stars was none other than Mario Mario, a slightly pudgy Italian man who liked the color red. This particular morning, Mario had awoken bright and early to go to breakfast at his favorite pasta joint -- The Wet Noodle. The blurb below the title claimed it was home to the world-famous "Suspiciously Crimson-Colored Red Sauce."

On his way to go consume massive quantities of "comida Italiana," as it were, a young boy who looked as if he needed help accosted Mario. "Oh, pretty please, Mr. Mario," the boy pleaded. "Please rescue Mr. Ickle Fluffykins from the mean old tree! He's very delicate!"

Mario sighed. It seemed he couldn't go anywhere without some inane whiner asking him to do some equally inane favor. But, he was the famous Mario, and not helping someone in need would be bad for his image.

So, Mario, trying not to retch from the annoying kid's cutesy baby talk, grabbed onto the tree and climbed. He caught a glimpse of a furry white ball on one of the branches. There it is, he thought. As Mario inched his way along the branch, which he now realized was thinner than he thought at first, he noticed the cat was simply bathing itself contentedly, nothing like the yowling, hissing mass of claws he had first expected.

"Hey, kid!" Mario shouted down. "Your cat looks fine up here. I really don't think…"

Mario immediately regretted even speaking to the kid, who said: "Oh, no no no no no! A bad old tree is no place for a big fuzzy-wuzzy fuzzball! Mr. Ickle Fluffykins is oh so much happy-wappier in his warm and cozy housie-wousie in his beddy-bye basket. He likes it ever so much better than a mean, bad, grumpy-wumpy old tree."

Mario now had the beginnings of what seemed to be a migraine. The least he could hope for was that the cat clawed the stupid kid's eyes out. Or, even better, his vocal chords.

The branch was now starting to bend slightly under Mario's weight. He hoped the branch didn't give way unless it landed on the kid's head. Mario was now only about a foot from the cat, which didn't seem to notice him. C'mere kitty, Mario thought, just a few more…there! Mario had grabbed the furry feline. To commemorate this achievement, he also stood fully upright and held the cat above his head triumphantly. Not a good idea. The cat, being the cat it was, went berserk, flailing and trashing about in Mario's grip. Mario instinctively let go of it. Also not a good idea. The cat landed on Mario's head, still clawing, hissing, and spitting. Mario started moving and screaming frantically, trying to get the cat off his head.

Meanwhile, below the scene of the melee, the kid was watching Mario and Mr. Ickle Fluffykins with wide eyes. "Be ever so gentle with Mr. Ickle Fluffykins! You don't want to give him a boo-boo!"

I'll give you a boo-boo, Mario thought angrily. While the plumber's mind was filled with images of what would be the most painful and gruesome way to dispatch this kid, he didn't notice the slight cracking noise. He also didn't notice the louder cracking noise. In fact, he didn't notice it at all until the entire branch snapped and he and the cat plummeted to the ground.

Mario landed smack on his butt right on a nearby bench. Not on the part for sitting, either. "MAMMA MIA!" As Mario howled in agony, the cat leaped off his head, and made a beeline for the kid.

"Mr. Ickle Fluffykins!" the kid shouted jubilantly. "I'm so glad you're safe!"

Through the extreme agony, Mario was half-hoping that the cat would scratch the kid's eyes out, but, alas, it was not to be. The cat was purring and licking the kid's face, and the kid was giggling.

As the kid walked away, Mario slowly eased himself up off the bench, trying to ignore the fact that doing number two would probably be out of the question for some days. However, the thought of warm, saucy, buttery pasta at his favorite restaurant cheered him up some.

But when Mario arrived at The Wet Noodle near the intersection of Goomba Street and Octorok Avenue, he saw something that would forever haunt his memory.

CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS

Mario's heart rate quickened and his eyes widened. He fell to his knees and let out a scream of "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He hit his forehead against the front door, blubbering "Why? Why?" And, as is the case in any dramatic situation, it started to rain. Mario peered through watery eyes into the restaurant. The "renovations" seemed to involve a lot of "POLICE LINE: DO NOT CROSS" tape and waiters being tied to chairs. I knew their sauce was too suspiciously crimson-colored, thought Mario bitterly.

Mario, his spirit and heart broken, miserably trudged back to the mansion. When he got there, he opened the doors to a happy scene of people gorging themselves on pancakes and other breakfast foodstuffs while chatting happily with their neighbor. Peach was happily cooking up more breakfast foodstuffs, contributing to the extraordinary caloric intake of the Smashers. Lakitu, a cloud-riding turtle who helped with the cinematography, was shuttling plates of food to hungry entities.

Mario sat down next to his brother Luigi, who was talking with Bowser. At least he was attempting to talk; the conversation was rather one-sided with Luigi doing the talking and Bowser doing the stuffing of face with food.

"Morning, Mario!" Luigi said. "Thank goodness you're here. I've had to sit here next to this glutton all morning. Do you have any idea the sounds that…why are you all wet and scratched up?"

"Well," said Mario, not looking up from the table, "let's just say that The Wet Noodle is closed and I got mauled by a cat trying to rescue it."

"Really? Darn, that was a good restaurant. Wait a minute, why did you say, 'let's just say'?"

"What?"

"You said, 'let's just say that The Wet Noodle is closed and that I got mauled by a cat trying to rescue it.' Why did you add the 'let's just say'? I mean, it would have made sense to say, 'let's just say we won't be eating good Italian food anymore and I won't be petting any cats anytime soon,' but with what you said, the 'let's just say' was really kind of--"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" Mario shouted. "I'm sick of doing thankless work! This has got to change!"

"Well, you could always charge people for favors."

"Luigi, that has got to be the crappiest idea in the entire history of crappy ideas. You should be ashamed of yourself for disgracing the earth with the crap machine that is your brain. I need a good, intelligent idea, an idea like…charging people for favors!"

"Charging people for…that's exactly what I said!"

"Luigi, Luigi, Luigi," Mario said condescendingly, "taking credit for other people's ideas, though tempting, is no way to go through life. You should be more like me, and come up with new and original ideas all on your own. You'll be a better person for it."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil," muttered Luigi.

"Now, how much should I charge…let's see…" Mario mused.

"Five bucks seems reasonable," said Luigi.

"Luigi, please! You're tainting my pristine brain with your constant output of garbage. How about something like five bucks?"

"Rrrgh…" growled Luigi.

"Now, the last thing I need to do is think of how I'm going to set up my business. Let's see…I could rent a beautiful old building and everyone would flock to my excellent location…"

"Or you could set up a crappy little stand by the side of the road."

"Alright, Luigi, that's it! I've had it up to here with your inane suggestions. Go poison someone else's mind. A crappy little stand by the side of the road would be a much better idea than your pathetic excuse for one. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a business to set up." And with that, Mario walked out of the room in a considerably better mood.

Just then, Marth, Link, Zelda, Ganondorf, and Shy Guy, the makeup and costume artist, came bursting through the main doors, soaking wet.

"Hey, what's up, you guys?" Peach asked. "I thought you were at the beach."

"We were," Marth responded. "But then it started raining."

"It completely ruined the day at the beach!" Ganondorf shouted.

"Normally, Ganon, I'd agree with you," said Link, "but I've lost all sense of emotion ever since that fat lady's bathing suit ripped. Shudder..."

"Odd," said Ness, "there was like, a zero percent chance of rain today."

"Well, we think that someone must have suddenly become very sad and dramatic. And I intend to find out who!" Marth said with a murderous glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, uh, good luck with that. Well, I'm gonna go, uh, sell some favors, so, see ya!" said Mario, bolting out the door into the downpour.

Everyone looked after him with a strange look.

"Mario's selling favors? You mean like favors, as in errands, or favors, as in--"

"I think he means errands."

"Oh. Good."

To Be Continued…

Well, that's that. Come back next chapter for some silly Mario antics and (hopefully) funnier jokes. Please read and review!

But first, a trivia question. If you put the answer in your review and get it right, I'll congratulate you in the next chapter. Here it is: What video game takes place in Diamond City? In case you weren't paying attention, this story also takes place there.

Don't forget to review! All flames will be laughed at.