Disclaimer: Mario is mine, hey! Mario is mine, hey!...No, wait…Never mind. I also don't own Bowser, the ball in the cup game, or Playskool. StarVix owns none of them either, but she didn't do the catchy Mario is mine dance, so she doesn't count.

Mario stared at Bowser's Keep, and for the first time since Shigeru Miamoto came up with the idea of a fat Italian plumber consistently beating the daylights out of a giant turtle/dragon/porcupine thing, he realized it was a very dark and creepy place.

Gulping dramatically, he walked up to the palace guards and held up the letter. "Um, I think there's been some mistake—" he started. He never got to tell them about the mistake, however, because the guards woke up and got a good look at him.

"It's Mario!" shrieked one.

"Run like incompetent slackers!" ordered the other.

Then they both ran like a couple of chickens with their heads cut off, and fell right into a lava pit, where they both fried like incompetent slackers.

Mario, who was admittedly processing things a little slower than normal, what with the shock and all, stared at where they had been for a second and then coughed nervously. "I uh…I guess I have to register inside, then?" he asked nobody in particular, since both of the people who were supposed to be there were now eligible as menu items at KFC.* Nobody would buy them, because that would be disgusting, but you get the general idea.

The red capped draftee pushed open the large double doors and walked into a dimly lit, seemingly endless, creepy hallway. (Ever notice that all dark, creepy castles tend to have dark, long, creepy hallways? It's so clichéd it's not even scary anymore. Why don't you ever open large double doors of a dark, creepy castle and find something really scary? Like an endless array of phones all ringing with telemarketers on every line but one, which is currently being used by your mother-in-law? Now, that's scary.)

Mario started down the hallway and got completely lost. It was easy to do, because all those doors looked alike and since Bowser wasn't expecting him, he hadn't set the directory out. (Even Bowser has better things to do than wait for an eternity while Mario tries to figure out how to navigate his castle.)

Finally, after the plumber had given up all hope of escape or rescue and was debating the best way to leave his will on a red cap having only nose hairs to write with, he inadvertently stumbled into the main throne room, where Bowser was sitting, entertaining himself with one of those plastic ball and cup things.

Bowser hadn't quite mastered the art of actually getting the stupid ball into the cup, but that was because the game was, quite obviously, rigged. The makers of the Ball and Cup game, in Bowser's mind, were evil little twisted sickos who lived for the cheep thrill of watching losers try to get the giant ball into the little bitty cup, knowing that it could not be done. But the King of the Koopas would show them! He'd not only get the ball into the cup, then shove it into their smug faces with a 'Ha! How do you like me now?', he'd also execute them for designing it in the first place. Take that, evil Playskool corporation!

Bowser was so into his ball and cup that he hadn't noticed Mario had collapsed into the room, in a panicked frenzy, falling flat on his face while muttering something obscure about nose hair wills. In fact, if Mario hadn't cleared his throat and tapped Bowser on the shoulder, Bowser would still be sitting on his throne with his ball and cup, vowing vengeance on evil preschool toymakers and this would be the shortest and most disappointing fan fiction in the history of creation.

However, Mario did tap Bowser on the shoulder, causing the Koopa King to scream like a six year old little girl and nearly jump out of his shell.

Bowser, panting and gasping and looking very much like a bloated pufferfish with a big, green shell, looked about wildly, trying to figure out who in the dickens just tapped him over the shoulder. He looked at Mario. He blinked slightly. Mario looked at him. Bowser blinked again.

Finally the self proclaimed King of Koopas cleared his throat and said, "Don't DO that!"

"Sorry," Mario said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "See, normally I wouldn't barge in like this, but you see, I have a—"

It would seem that Mario just wasn't fated to finish any of his sentences this day, because Bowser paled considerably and blurted, "I destroyed the evidence! You don't have any proof!"

"What?" asked Mario, visibly startled.

"You mean you aren't here because of those fake jury duty notices I sent you?" Bowser asked, turning a lovely magenta because of embarrassment.

"Ah, no. Luigi loves jury duty. It makes him think he actually has a life. So I give him all my notices and he pretends he's me. I think that's why so many people mistake him for me, but we really don't have time to go into that right now," Mario explained shrugging.

"Oh," Bowser furrowed his brow, trying to think of past sins that would bring Mario to his doorstep. "Is this about that time I broke into your house and drunk all your Chuckola Cola?"

Mario shook his head. "I was trying to cut down anyway," he admitted.

"Huh. Well, if that's not it, is it about the nasty rumors I spread about you?"

Mario coughed slightly, turned an interesting shade of pink, and muttered, "That was not very nice, but no, I'm not here about the nasty rumors. Besides, I may have spread one or two of my own…"

"Are you the one who started that one about my dietary habits?" asked Bowser, his face darkening. "Because I swore if I ever got my hands on the dingbat who did that, I'd wring his scrawny little…"

"You know, none of that matters now, because I'm not here about that," Mario interrupted, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Because there was a chance that he might have had something to do with the dietary rumor, but he was 95 percent sure that it was true, and besides, Bowser started it.**

Bowser nodded, thinking again. Finally he said quietly, "This can't be about that time when we were working together to stop Smithy and we went to that hotel and I went through your suitcase while you were asleep and used your toothbrush and accidentally—ok, not accidentally, but I dropped it in the toilet and put it back into your suitcase, because that was years ago and if you hadn't figured it out by now you probably never will."

"No, it's not about—YOU USED MY TOOTHBRUSH AND THEN DROPPED IT IN THE TOILET!?! OH, GROSS, EW, ICK!!! BOWSER!!! YOU SICKO!!!" Mario screamed and started running in a frantic little circles, pawing at his tongue with a wild, frantic look in his eyes that would scare any sane individual who wasn't a sicko.

Bowser, who's sanity is debated and who is, without a doubt, a sicko, was not the least bit disturbed by the decidedly disturbing scene he was witnessing. Instead, he just sighed once again proved the Blast It Law of Averages*** by saying, "Did I say that out loud? Blast it!"

When Mario finally calmed down a bit and caught his breath, he said, "I'm not here about any of that—although you will regret that toothbrush incident if I have anything to say about it, and I do—right now, however, I'm here about this." And he handed Bowser the letter.

Bowser read the letter. He blinked. He read the letter again. He blinked again. He read the letter one more time to make sure he was reading it correctly. He blinked again and read it one more time to check the spelling. Then his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out.

Mario waited patiently for him to wake up, thinking amusing thoughts about how to get the Koopa King back for the toothbrush incident.

Finally, Bowser's eyes opened and he muttered, "It's a draft notice."

"I know."

"From Dark Land."

"I know."

"Telling you to report for active duty."

"I know!"

The figurative wheels in Bowser's mind began churning, then his eyes lit up. He jumped up and started doing River stomp, of all things.

"That means I own you!" he squealed, clapping his hands, looking a good deal like a kid at Christmas. "And that means that I might win this time!"

Mario watched with a growing dread in the pit of his stomach that said he might not get out of this draft after all.

"Mario is mine! Mario is mine!" Bowser chanted, kicking up his River stomp into double time. "Hey, get down to the courtyard so they can assign you to your squad, my Spaghetti Slurping Slave! Mario is mine, hey! Mario is mine, hey! Mario is mine…"

Mario sighed dramatically and left to go to the courtyard and to his imminent doom.

And immediately got lost again.

* If you go to KFC and take a bite out of anything that is decidedly NOT chicken, don't say we didn't warn you.

** See Mushroom Gazette Issue 64902#, there's some pretty juicy stuff in there. (I can't believe he actually said that...)

*** The Blast It Law of Averages, stating by Average Joe Snook of Squanto, Samoset, states that whenever you drop someone else's toothbrush in the toilet and put it back, the longer you go without someone finding out increases the chances of you referencing the incident yourself at an inopportune time by 27.8 percent. Afterwards, there is a 278 percent chance that you will yell, "Blast it!" at the top of your lungs. He also stated the I Can't Believe You Did That, You Sicko! Law of Reprisals, which states that after you use the Blast It Law of Averages, the person who's toothbrush you dropped will never again invite you to any of his/her slumber parties, and will also call all of your other friends and make sure they never invite you to any of their parties, either, so for the rest of your life you are a social shut-in, whose only source of fun is stating stupid laws.