This will have more of a plot towards the very end. All of the characters will speak English in this, no accents or anything, except maybe the Pokemon. Anyways, here's Marth.
Marth would be walking in, if he weren't on top a flood of fangirls. They carried him in, screaming madly, and set him down in the chair after the security guards chased after them. Marth used his velvety soft cape to clean the lipstick from his face, but just ended up smearing it all over, resulting in a messy swirl of pink, red, and brown on his cheeks.
"Know your smashers, know your smashers, know your smashers, know your smashers," began the announcer.
Marth flashed the camera to be what he thought was a picture perfect smile. The announcer just laughed cruelly.
"You're just jealous of my good looks," Marth said haughtily.
"You wish. Marth…he wants to be an Oscar Meyer wiener."
"No way! That song about people being in love with one of those is just not true. Besides, I like being me. I get plenty of attention from fangirls."
"Marth…he is slower than a frozen slug stuck in dirt."
"Naw, I'm very graceful and quick. I'm so much better than Roy."
As if on cue, a storm of Roy fangirls waiting to see Roy marched in and stampeded over Marth. He yanked his sword out and threatened to hurt them all. Since them had all played Super Smash Brothers Melee, they knew it was true. Marth was good with a sword, so they ran out.
The announcer sighed. Marth was too conceited and cocky to get annoyed. Maybe, just maybe…
"Marth…his fangirls only like him because he is good with a sword."
"Yeah I know, thanks for the compliment," Marth remarked coolly, crossing his legs and resting his hands behind his head.
The announcer was secretly frustrated. Marth just brushed off every insult. Then the announcer got an idea.
"Marth…is really a girl."
"What? I'm a boy, a prince! With tons of fangirls who wait outside for me as we speak."
"Fine then. Marth…HER real name is Princess Marshmallow Fluffernutter of the Dirty Rocks."
"Look, I'm a guy, okay? I'm the Prince of Altea, not whatever you speak of. Must you tell these lies?"
"Yes."
Marth was furious now. The announcer was amused.
"Mind if I ask why?" Marth asked through gritting teeth, getting more aggravated by the minute.
"It's in my job description. Getting on with that, Marth…he is a goody-goody two shoes who never gets into trouble," the announcer taunted.
"No, I get into trouble. Besides the ladies like a guy who is bad." Marth attempted to make a manly pose.
"Nice pose there," came a sarcastic response.
"Really?" inquired the hopeful male.
"No. Princess Marshmallow Fluffernutter of the Dirty Rocks …she picks her nose with a piece of black licorice every morning."
"That's disgusting! And how many times must I tell you, I'm not a girl!"
"That's what you want us to think."
The blue-haired swordsman just unhappily pouted.
"Now you know… Princess Marshmallow Fluffernutter of the Dirty Rocks, the nose picker that wishes to become an Oscar Meyer wiener."
The camera zoomed away from Marth. He made threats to come use his sword if the announcer did not show himself, along with comments on how none of that was true.
"I am not a girl! I don't pick my nose!" Marth yelled. Then he glanced at a security guard enjoying a doughnut.
"Ooh, doughnuts, my fave!" Marth tackled the guard, and they fought for the doughnut.
Next up is Ganondork, I mean Ganondorf. Heh.