How Shall One Don A Missing Hat?

A/N: I was busy doodling a few shots of Gene and Kid without their hats, and I had one shot of Gene reaching over to grab his hat, but it wasn't there, and lo, behold, an idea quickly crawled into my mind…also, expect OOC-ness. Why do you think I put this in parody?

Disclaimer: If you actually THINK I own Mario Golf (Advance Tour), Mario, anything from Nitendo or Camelot, and golf itself, you need to reread the title of this website we're on.


What in Princess Peach's name…

From a doubles room in the Links lounge, a figure stirred as the sunlight that was peeking through his window moved ever so closer towards his face.

Wait a minute…

Gene Yuss grumbled and slapped a hand over his eyes, turning around so that his face was turned away from the morning light. He still wondered, though; why was the sun shining on his face if the window was shining from the left of his bed at his feet?

The disturbed golfer grunted, and forced one of his blue eyes open, immediately closing it. Well, that certainly explained why he didn't feel a pillow underneath his head; his feet were rested on his pillow and his head at the end of his bed!

Confound it all! he cursed, sitting up and stretching as he yawned. And I wanted to sleep in today! Well, might as well get up.

He tilted his head around, groaned, and placed a hand on his neck, which was rather stiff. Standing up, he did all things necessary that people did when they woke up, before slipping into a white shirt, purplish pants, long socks and brown golf shoes. He knocked on the door that lead to another room, which belonged to his golf doubles partner, Kid. "Kid, are you up?" Gene called, running a comb through his brown hair.

No answer. "Kid? Why…how dare he go on the golf course without informing The Gene!" Gene scoffed, having developed a habit for saying his name plenty of times. He smirked and grabbed one of his red vests from his clothes closet. "Now, to go out and find that pest, and beat him. First, I need my hat."

While he slipped the sweater over his head, he looked at a couple of picture frames on his drawer cabinets. Several medals, ribbons and a trophy glittered on it. There were a couple of pictures of him, a few of them when he was younger. In most of the pictures, he was tilting the hat set on his head. Before it used to be black. Now, it was a reddish-brown.

"Ah, my glorious days with a snappy-looking hat," he said proudly, giving a smug smile as he turned away and admired himself in the mirror. "Well, looking very charming, as usual, Gene," he smirked, "but you're missing something. Ah, of course! The hat that makes you what you are."

With that he extended his hand in a direction of a hook placed on the wall for his hat…or, where he thought he'd put it.

All he grasped was air. "What the – " Gene said, blinking and turning around to stare at the hook. Confused when he didn't see his beloved hat, he rubbed a hand over his eyes, making sure he wasn't dreaming. "Impossible! But…but I put it there."

For a moment, confusion filled his head. He gave a laugh and smacked his forehead lightly. "Now I remember!" he acknowledged. "I put it on the counter next to my bed." He turned his head over to it, only to find a lamp, a clock, and nothing else. "Or not."

A bit concerned now, he looked back in his closet, then checked his bed. "I could've sworn I put my hat in here somewhere!" he said. He smirked again. "Pfft, it probably was kicked under the bed."

Panic and desperation attacked him as he found only discarded Sport Star Golf Issue magazines and posters of himself that he didn't bother putting on his walls. "Okay, where is it, where is it?" he gasped, standing up and swinging open the doors of his closet wardrobe, and soon a dozen shirts and other clothes littered the floor. "No! No no no no no no! I couldn't have lost it! The Gene NEVER loses anything! Never! Ever! This can't be! I must be dreaming or hallucinating."

After about twenty minutes of frantic and ridiculous searching (including actually checking the lamp, under his pillow, and waving his hand about a dozen times around the metal hat hook), he was completely crestfallen. "No, no, NO!" he shrieked, falling on his bed. "I…I can't believe I lost my hat! This can't be! This so cannot be!"

He gave a gasp and snapped his fingers. "Hey, I'll use my other hat!" he said. "Case closed!"

Then it hit him. "But I don't have another hat!" Gene bawled, resuming his sulking. "I knew I shouldn't have left my black hat back at home! No! Noooo!" He suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Somebody must've stolen it! Yes, that must've been the case! What if Kid stole it? He is immature." He snarled. "Boy, I'll beat him to a bloody pulp if that's the case!

Why would he want your hat when he has his own? Be reasonable, Gene, a voice said inside his head.

"Who cares about being reasonable?" Gene yelled, and stood up, turning the handle on Kid's door. "He's played the prank before. If that prank is the one being used now, well, he's dead!"

- - -

Kid immediately assumed the worse as he heard crashes and objects breaking inside the Links Doubles room that he and Gene were staying in. His hand was shaking near the doorknob. "Okay, Kid, calm down," the man wearing a black baseball cap, a red shirt, white pants, and black golf shoes murmured, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm sure he's just a bit upset, as he sometimes is."

The doorknob turned, and Kid slammed open the door with a wide grin. "Hey, Gene, what's going on?" he called cheerfully, waving his baseball cap and opening his eyes. He suddenly screamed, backing away three steps as he saw all the numerous objects covering the floor. "WHOA! Okay, uh, Gene, are you SURE a tornado didn't hit here?"

A distressed screech came from Kid's room, and Kid's face of shock turned into worry. "Gene? GENE! Hang on, buddy!" Kid cried, dropping his golf bag and throwing open the door to his room. Instead, a sight as monstrous as Gene's room greeted his eyes, and there was Gene, rubbing his head from banging his head under the bed in surprise. Kid glared at the other brown-haired golfer as though he was insane. "Gene, what in the name of Bowser are you trying to do?"

He screamed again as Gene suddenly lunged for him, snagging his collar and roaring, "Alright, talk! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HAT, YOU FIEND?"

"Your…your HAT?" Kid spluttered, dumbfounded as his jaw fell open.

"YES, MY HAT!" Gene retorted furiously, glaring daggers at Kid, who was rather scared. "If this is one of your little 'harmless' pranks, I'M GONNA BREAK ALL THE BONES IN YOUR BODY, GIVE YOU A ONE-WAY TRIP TO THE HOSPITAL, AND CUT OFF YOUR – "

"Gene, get a hold of yourself!" Kid yelled, slapping Gene twice across the face and wriggling free of Gene's crazed grasp. "Why would I would your hat anyway?" He straightened out his shirt. "And what is with your temper?"

"Are you saying that I have a short temper? Hmm?" Gene growled, his knuckles white.

"Er…yeah! Yes, you do! Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I did! Afterwards, I got dressed, and was about to get my hat, when I suddenly realized that it wasn't there!"

"Well, I didn't take it! Besides, why would I take it, if I already have this?" Kid groused, waving his cap in front of Gene's face before placing it back on his head. "And now you know."

Gene suddenly started bawling, tears streaming down his face. "My hat! It's gone! Gone, I tell you! Gooooooone!" he wailed, collapsing on his knees and burying his face in his hands. "The Gene is doomed!"

Kid tried not to back away (at least, very far away) from his roomie. "Gene, calm down," Kid reassured him. "It's not the Links title, it's a hat!"

"You don't understand!" Gene sobbed, grabbing one of the many Kleenex boxes scattered on the ground and pulling out a few tissues. "This hat meant more that my Links title! It was the cause for my Links title!"

"You…you're kidding me," Kid muttered, raising his eyebrows as Gene blew into the tissue and making a dreadful honking sound. "It's a hat! It can't make you win Links titles! Don't male such a big fuss about it!"

When he looked back at Gene's face, he sighed and hoisted his crazy doubles partner back on his feet. "Well, I guess it's not my place to comment on…your…relationship…with your hat," Kid said sympathetically, trying to phrase whatever he was saying correctly. Gene glared at him before plunking himself back on his bed and whimpering.

"I swear, whoever stole my hat…will pay!" Gene growled angrily, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hand.

"Are you sure it's not in here?" Kid questioned, and looked around. "Or…under all this stuff?"

"I checked," Gene retorted, annoyed with Kid for not taking his issue seriously. "I have to find my hat! The Gene will not rest until that hat is back on my head, safe and sound!"

"Gene, I really think – " Kid started, but before he could finish, Gene's arms were around him, and the man was laughing with joy while Kid blinked in utter shock.

"Oh, thank you thank you thank you thank you soooooooo much!" Gene cried, practically snuffing out all the oxygen out of Kid. "I am eternally grateful to you!"

"That's what you said when I won us the Links title," Kid gasped, trying to get out of Gene's grip. "And I never said – "

"Why are just standing here?" Gene said, letting go of Kid and opening the door, golf bag swung over his shoulder. "Let's go find that imbecile who stole my hat!"

"But – " Kid stammered, raising a finger. "But I just said – "

"That you'd help me, I know!" Gene grinned. He made an attempt to crack his knuckles. "Once I find the thief, he will regret stealing from The Ge – ow! Okay, not doing that ever again," he murmured, shaking his hand and staring at it weirdly.

Kid sighed and slapped his forehead. "Okay, fine, I'll help you!" he screeched. "But don't go overboard, got it?"

"Yes, Kid, fine," Gene said. "Now let's GO!"

With that, he grabbed Kid's shirt and dragged him out the Links lounge.


To Be Conti –

Gene: NO! I need to find my hat! NOW!

...nued...