Disclaimer: Don't own Super Smash Bros or Solid Snake. 'Nuff said.
It was another one of those boring days in Washington, D.C.; politicians were cheating on their wives, engaging in backroom deals and sitting in pointless hearings that never resolved the issues that people really care about. It was on this day that President Wario was holding an equally pointless and nonessential press conference in the East Room of the White House.
Wario stood at the podium. The media stood out in the crowd, getting ready to spin whatever he said completely out of proportion.
"Mr. President," asked a reporter from Fixed News, the most unreliable name in news. "How do you explain the fact that your approval ratings have continued to plummet ever since the Wariogate Affair* last year and have not yet rebounded?"
Wario laughed. He got this question all the time. "Oh, that's-a easy. The public is-a too stupid to understand or appreciate all of the stuff me and-a Capitol Hill do for them." When he saw that the room had grown quiet and that each reporter's mouth was hanging agape, he quickly shuffled the papers on the podium and chuckled, "Eh heh heh, next-a question."
Within seconds, the press had recovered from their momentary shock (serving as a reminder that while the media may consist primarily of propagandists, crooks and spin doctors, they are at least propagandists, crooks and spin doctors that have souls).
"Mr. President! Mr. President!" screamed a reporter from SeeBS, the news source that Americans go to in order to see BS. "Do you and your administration plan on getting involved in the situation in Kookamungastan?"
"Could you please outline the details of your Six-Six-Six Tax Plan?" cut in a reporter from PMSNBC, the news network that's run by forty-something liberal feminists.
Before the fat man could answer, another reported called out, "Mr. President, how do you respond to critics who claim that greenhouse gasses have increased by 80 percent since you've taken office?"
Wario was feeling so overloaded by the press' questions that he could feel his pet cockroach Roachie running around inside his cranium like a kid on a sugar binge. The president sighed sadly. Aside from the kickbacks, the frequent flier miles and the free monographed pens, he was beginning to realize that there really wasn't much good reason to want to be president. There was too much stress involved in the job and he hated talking to the press.
The fat man continued to angst poetic, until he saw out of the corner of his eye an aide walking over to him. The aide came close to him and whispered "Mr. President, there's a situation…"
Wario's face went pale as the aide continued to relate his tale to him. "Oh-a, no…" he said quietly. Turning toward the press, he said in a much louder voice, "Uh, a situation has-a come-a to my attention. Any further questions can-a be directed to my press secretary, Mona."
Wario quickly waddled away from the podium and Mona stepped up. She had long red hair and blue eyes. She was dressed in a black business suit and was the only pretty face in an otherwise ugly administration.
She flipped her hair and winked at the press. "Okay boys, any questions?"
The only sound that could be heard was the sound of all of the men in the room drooling on themselves. All of the women in the room rolled their eyes and collectively thought, Men.
The president chuckled as he walked down a hallway with his aide "I should-a called-a her out-a earlier." Wario's legs were trembling badly with fear as he walked down the hall; he had just received some very bad news and was terrified by its implications, but he knew the man to call…
After spending a month in intensive care following being hit by a car, mauled by a rabid Chihuahua, having his ribs broken, suffering extensive blood loss and being urinated on by a cat, Solid Snake had managed to recover with only minimal pain and horrible emotional scarring that would never go away.
Anyhow, Snake was back to his pathetically tedious life of being President Wario's errand boy. But today was a different day: he was home in his rugged, manly mancave also known as his lakefront log cabin in western Maine. He had just finished his incredibly unhealthy breakfast of pancake-coated sausages and was now at work, dusting his home while listening to his "cleaning mix" on his iPod. He was dressed in camouflage pajamas and pink bunny slippers.
Snake sang along loudly to his favorite hits from Genesis, Rob Thomas and Michael Bublé as well as his favorite glam rock tunes from the 80's. He grooved about his mancave with a dust rag in one hand and his iPod in another. He dusted off his German cuckoo clock, his piano, his portraits of Theodore Roosevelt, JFK and Ronald Reagan, his writing desk, the box he used as his bed and his beloved television, which he used to watch the History Channel, all of the various Lamestream Media outlets and of course his favorite show, 24 (Except for the eighth season, which sucked).
Snake was still dusting, loudly singing along to "Heat Of The Moment" by Asia, when he heard a pounding sound coming from his back door. He sighed, removed his iPod's earbuds, put his dusting rag down and went to the front door. Opening it, he saw that angry old guy who lived next door to him, along with his angry old wife.
They were called the Grouchingtons, the grouchy old people who moved next door after Snake's former neighbor, an old widow named Gladys J. Rutherford-Winklebottom, had left three years ago. Gladys had moved away with her new husband, a wealthy little monkey named D. James Kong, to become part of a life of glitz, glamour and overly-lavish mansions with golden toilets.
D. James Kong, who was really Diddy Kong, had faked his death and collected a massive life insurance policy after he had lost his prized banana stash to the soon-to-be president Wario. Diddy, or D. James, used his newfound wealth to seduce Gladys into marrying him. He married Gladys not because he loved her, but because marrying octogenarians was the "in" thing that year.
Being a particularly nasty old witch who didn't have the fortune of growing up watching Mr. Roger's Neighborhood and learning about the concept of sharing, Gladys eventually murdered her husband and took all of his wealth for herself, thus becoming America's most wealth eighty-year-old as according to Nasty Old Witches Magazine.
Anyways, the Grouchingtons were at Snake's door and they didn't look very happy.
"Turn down that hippie crap, you punk kid!" said Mr. Grouchington angrily. "Yeah!" said Mrs. Grouchington, her hands on her hips. "Some of us have crossword puzzles and Sudoku to do, you know!"
Snake rolled his eyes. If it wasn't Wario who was driving him nuts, it was these two old fossils. Forget the Grouchingtons; their last names should have been the Killjoys. They didn't want him to sing too loudly; they complained whenever he had his covert ops buddies over to play war games and they wouldn't even let him do a snuff film in his own backyard!
"And another thing!" said Mr. Grouchington, pointing down at Snake's feet. "Get some manly slippers! You look like an old lady!"
"Hey!" snarled Mrs. Grouchington, angrily looking down at her own pink fuzzy bunny slippers.
"Sorry, honey."
That was it. You could insult Snake's taste in music and he would take it. You could tie him to a table and try to cut him open with a laser and he would just laugh it off. You could try to torture him with a power drill and he would just sing opera instead of scream in pain. But there was one thing you should never do to Solid Snake, and that was to insult his slippers.
You never touched the slippers.
Snake snapped like a dried branch. He grabbed the Grouchingtons and performed his patented stranglehold on them, rendering them unconscious or more likely, dead.
He stepped outside and dragged their unconscious bodies to the shore of the lake behind his house. He gave them each a mighty throw, hurling them into the lake. Hopefully, the lake had some of those crazy piranha-frog mutants that the previous administration had wasted so much taxpayer money creating to protect America's lakes and rivers from imaginary terrorists. Hopefully if there were any of the aforementioned mutants out there, they would take the Grouchingtons as an offering of brotherhood between human and mutantkind.
After this deed was done, Snake went back into his house, put his earbuds back in and started his 80's rock-off again, singing even louder than he had before. After the dusting was done, Snake sat down on his chewed-up, tobacco-stained sofa in his living room, drinking Nicaragua's Disappointment brand coffee and listening to Bach, Beethoven and Stravinsky.
Just then, the codec in his ear began to buzz loudly. Snake was so surprised that he spat out the coffee in his mouth onto his newly-carpeted living room floor. He sighed angrily, got up and shut off his stereo, the codec still buzzing.
He put his right hand to his ear and heard a gruff voice with an Italian accent. "Snake, your-a nation needs-a you!"
"How lucky I am," Snake said dryly. Whatever possessed him to get into the violent children's music that ultimately led him to this sorry state? Oh right, it was Wario's fault. He was the one who crashed his Wario Car into Snake's log cabin three years ago; he was the one who had caused all of this misfortune to happen to Snake.
Sure, the subcommittees and the courts were the ones who had given him the sentence of having to work for the president, but Wario was the one who had set all of this into motion. And he would pay dearly for that…
Snake took off his pajamas and bunny slippers and put on his sneaking suit, some manlier-looking shoes and his awesome headband. "So, what's the deal, Mr. President?" asked Snake loathingly. "Is there a little kitty cat up on the dome of the Capitol Building that needs rescuing? Do I have to come save you from ninjas like I had to do for Bush '41?"
"No-a, Snake," said Wario. "It's-a much more dangerous than that. It's-a too complicated to explain over the codec. I'm-a sending a black-a helicopter to pick-a you up."
Wario ended the codec message. Snake stomped out of the house, angrily slamming his front door and breaking the lock. Then, as if on cue, a group of ten starving locksmiths staggered out of the woods nearby, moaning like zombies as they congregated near his front door. Five of them got into a bloody fistfight over who would get the job, while five others stood by the lock, examining it.
"Urrrrgh…. We need to bump-proof this lock…" growled one.
"Hurrgh…. I'm going to need to drill this door…" groaned another.
"Hrhmmm… The damage is quite extensive…" said another.
He watched as one of the locksmiths pulled out a chintzy, brand name-removed power drill and turned it on. It suddenly burst into flames and the locksmith juggled it like it was some kind of flaming potato. He threw it towards Snake, who deftly dodged it, which caused it to land on the porch of a much more deserving family.
Just then, the five locksmiths who were fighting suddenly stopped and looked at Snake. "Urrrgh…" grunted one. "There's the homeowner!" Suddenly, all ten of them began to shamble towards Snake, shouting out unreasonable estimates. Thankfully, the black helicopter that Wario sent had just appeared overhead. It hovered directly over Snake and then a giant black claw came out from underneath and grabbed the man by his waist, lifting him up into the sky. As he was going up, two of the locksmiths grabbed hold of his legs and went up with him.
"Bad locksmiths! Shoo!" said Snake as he shook them off of his legs. He watched as the two of them fell down to the earth below and made cartoonish clouds of smoke as they were reunited with terra firma.
A couple minutes later, Snake and the helicopter were flying southward to Washington. Snake codec'd the pilot and asked him, "Hey! Are you gonna pull me up or do I have to stay out here the whole time?"
"Sorry, Mr. Snake," said the pilot. "But this is a one-person aircraft. We can't really afford two-person helicopters right now. President Wario is trying everything he can to cut spending. You know how the economy's been the last few years…"
"Yeah, tell me about it…" growled Snake. Wario would always cut some government program or funding to something and pretend he was doing it "for-a the national interest", but it was all smoke and mirrors. He didn't care about America. He didn't care if kids were forced to drop out of college because the student loans they had been relying on had disappeared. He didn't care if a young single mother couldn't afford groceries because she was deemed ineligible for food stamps. The only thing he cared about was lining his own pockets.
Before Snake could dwell on any more potentially polarizing political ponderings, he was pulled back into reality by a boisterous honking sound. He looked ahead and saw a flock of Canada Geese flying in formation strait towards him.
"Sorry, Mr. Snake," said the pilot apologetically, "but I'm going to have to fly you through that flock of geese if we want to stay on course for Washington."
"Wonderful."
Within moments, Snake found himself in the midst of a cackling, honking storm of confusion. The geese trumpeted loudly, startled, slapping at him with their wings. Dirt and dust flew from the wings into Snake's nose, causing him to sneeze. Normally, the geese would have been frightened off by such a loud noise, but today they had set their phasers to kill. No sooner had he recovered from sneezing, eight geese flew behind Snake and held him in place as several others kicked and pecked at him furiously.
"PILOT! BRING ME TO A LOWER ALTITUDE!" screamed Snake as the geese showed an incredible mastery of Kung Fu on him. He couldn't help but be reminded of that time he accidently killed Santa Claus four Christmases ago and the reindeer beat him up similarly. Animals must just hate him or something.
"Okay," said the pilot. "I'm lowering you…. NOW!"
Snake felt himself drop as the helicopter claw was lowered. The geese were startled and let go of him while the ones that were pwning him dispersed. Snake was now about a hundred feet above the ground. He sighed in relief. But then he saw the vast forest of pine trees before him and swore loudly.
He smacked straight through the trunk of a colossal pine tree, which left Snake sore and the tree with a human-shaped hole in its trunk. Then the poor guy was dragged across several hundred branches and was soon covered from head to toe with pine needles embedded in his skin. After the fun in the forest, Snake and the helicopter were in some quaint little New England town. Some kid walking on a sidewalk below with his dad pointed up at the figure covered in pine needles and said, "Look, Dad! It's Bigfoot!"
Snake growled angrily. When I get my hands on Wario—
His thoughts were interrupted as he crashed through the stained-glass windows of a church. Inside the sanctuary, the people sitting in the pews were screaming as the glass rained down on them.
After crashing through another wall, he was outside again. Then he screamed as he smashed through the windows of a mousetrap factory and was soon covered in dozens of mousetraps. After going through yet another wall, he heard the pilot say, "We've only got twenty more miles until we're in Washington, Mr. Snake."
"Oh, what a shame," said Snake sarcastically. "I'M JUST HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE DOWN HERE!"
Many more profanities and injuries later, Snake arrived in D.C. after a short stop to a medic to get those pine needles and mousetraps removed. He walked into the Oval Office, his heart full of hatred for Wario.
Wario was sitting at his desk, looking as ugly as ever. Vice President Dedede was in the room with him, standing by the desk. He had traded in his traditional garb for a black suit with a white and blue pinstriped tie. They both seemed to be having what grown-ups call a disagreement (Read: having a big fight). Neither politician seemed to notice the other man in the room with them.
"Ah'm tellin' you, Mr. President," said Vice President Dedede in a stereotypical Texan drawl, slamming his fist down on the desk. "The government of Kookamungastan is hidin' Weapons of Mass Dededestruction! We have to act now!"
"We've-a been-a down-a this road before," sighed Wario. Man, was he ever starting to hate his job. "We need-a to wait-a things out before we act."
"The longer we wait, the more likely they'll attack us!" shot back Dedede. Snake really wished he had brought his camcorder with him. For once, Wario and Dedede were acting like real politicians. If only they could act like adults when they weren't at each other's throats, then America might be in a better state than had been in for the last few years.
"And where-a is-a your proof for these 'Weapons of Mass Dededestruction'?" asked Wario.
"Well, we've gotten these intelligence reports, suh—"
"Intelligence means-a nothing!" angrily said Wario, bringing his fist down on the desk (Poor desk). "Just-a because one report say-a something, doesn't-a mean it's-a true!"
After Wario and Dedede went several more rounds of verbal boxing, the room fell eerily silent. It was so quiet that the only sound that could be heard was that of Roachie clicking deep inside Wario's skull.
Snake was the one who finally broke the awkward silence. "I hate to interrupt you guys while you're debating serious issues, but I got called here some kind of mission."
Both Wario and Dedede suddenly jumped to attention, pretending like nothing had been said; the president and vice president stared at Snake for a moment, blinking. Then both of them started laughing hysterically at Snake. "Hey Snake," said Dedede between laughter, pointing to the lampshade-shaped collar around Snake's neck that obscured his face. "What happened to you? You got fleas or somethin'?"
"Well, let me see," growled Snake. "I was almost set on fire by rabid locksmiths, I was attacked by a flock of geese, and I was dragged through a pine forest, smashed through some buildings and got covered with mousetraps. And because President Cheapskate over there gave me crappy health insurance, I WAS FORCED TO GO TO A VETERINARIAN!"
Wario and Dedede laughed even harder as Snake related his tale of bodily injury to them; Snake could feel the urge to kill rising within him.
"Now, see here—!" shouted Snake, attempting to defend himself.
"Uh, Snake?" said Vice President Dedede. "You're talkin' to a picture of Gordon Gekko. Me and Wario are more to your left."
Snake spun around toward them, realizing he was facing a large portrait of the infamous corporate raider. "Sorry," he said. "Dr. Miraz gave me this stupid collar so I wouldn't scratch the pine needle wounds on my neck and she put some really ridiculously small eyeholes on this thing." He pointed to the ridiculously small eye and mouth holes on the collar.
The president and vice president started laughing again; Wario was spinning around in his chair while Dedede was on the floor. Snake cleared his throat. One minute, Wario and Dedede would act like adults and in the next minute, they would be acting like two little kids again. Just like so many other politicians… "Um, I was sent here to complete a mission, not be roasted," he said angrily and impatiently.
Wario stopped laughing and hopped out of the chair. He waddled towards Snake, while Dedede still lay on the floor, laughing his dang fool head off. He led the man out of the Oval Office and down the hall to a large white door. "Snake, I've-a called you here for the most grave-a of missions," Wario began. He opened the door, which led into a titanic bathroom with white wallpaper and white tiles, complete with golden faucets, a large Jacuzzi-like bathtub and a large white toilet.
He led Snake into the bathroom. The bearded man looked around the room and thought, I need to get that wallpaper for my bathroom… "Okay, this is a nice bathroom," said Snake aloud to the president, "But what does this have to do with me?"
"Everything, Snake, everything," said Wario seriously. He led Snake up to the toilet and lifted the seat. Snake could see that the water in the toilet's bowl was almost over the rim of the seat. "Snake, could-a you take-a off-a your collar for a moment?" asked Wario.
Snake took off his collar and placed it on the edge of the bathtub. Suddenly, Wario grabbed Snake's legs, lifted him into the air and stuck his head in the toilet. The bearded man let out a muffled scream which caused bubbles to rise to the surface of the toilet water. Wario flushed the toilet and used Snake as an ordinary person would use a plunger and tried to make the water in the toilet go down.
This didn't work and the water started to overflow and spill out onto the bathroom's floor. Snake screamed muffled obscenities beneath the water. The water ran across the bathroom floor and out into the hallway. Wario pulled Snake out of the toilet; the bearded man's eyes were filled with bloodlust.
He stretched out his arms to strangle the president and ran towards him. "Wario, you—AGHHHH!" Snake slipped on the wet floor and landed hard on his back. He groaned in pain.
"Well, I guess-a plungering isn't-a going to cut it," said Wario in soliloquy, walking slowly back and forth.
Snake groaned more from the floor. "Why don't you just call a plumber?"
Inside Wario's brain, Roachie the cockroach turned on a light bulb. "That's-a it!" said the president, smiling while having his eureka moment. "Plumbers! I-a need plumbers! I need-a the greatest plumbers of all-a time! The Mario Brothers! I need-a you to find-a the Mario Brothers!"
Snake groaned even more. This was starting to sound an awful lot like a road trip.
Mario had been on a temporary leave of absence from Nintendo for the last couple years. He had gone to Burbank, California with aspirations of becoming either an actor or one of those guys you see in the background of a movie that doesn't serve any constructive role, but gets paid handsomely anyways. His brother Luigi had gone to Missouri to work for a heartless, multinational retailer.
"Why can't you just call a local plumber?" groaned Snake for the millionth time as he pulled himself up off of the floor. A look of annoyance spread across Wario's face. "I said-a I need-a the greatest plumbers of all time! Duh!"
Snake sighed and growled, rubbing his face. "Well, why can't you just use a different toilet?"
"It's-a the president's toilet," insisted Wario. "It's-a reserved for the president only."
"Then where will you go to the bathroom while this toilet's out of commission?" Snake shot back at the President.
"Oh, don't-a you worry about-a that," said Wario with a devious look on his face. He rubbed his hands together. "I've-a gotta that all-a figured out… WAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!" Snake swallowed hard. Whatever Wario meant likely didn't mean good news for him.
Before embarking on his new journey, Snake washed his hair with the special formula of dog shampoo that Dr. Miraz had prescribed for him. After his hair smelled less like a toilet and more like mangoes and pineapples, he put his collar back on and left the White House. He then took an accidental detour through President's Park and inadvertently damaged several monuments because of that stupid collar and its inefficient eyeholes. That poor little boy in the Boy Scout Memorial never saw it coming…
A/N: The Wariogate Affair was a political catastrophe that occurred a year prior to the events of this story. Wario had taken a trip to visit the Prime Minister of Canada to lick some political boot, but things went horribly wrong. The Prime Minister (Who shall be left unnamed) had a heart attack and died from seeing how ugly Wario was in person.
Upon returning to Washington, Wario discovered that the new Prime Minister, a fellow by the name of Stockpot Bay, demanded that Wario apologize for causing the former Prime Minister's death. If he refused to apologize, Bay threatened to potentially go to war against the United States and to annex a particular American state that was suffering from economic woes into Canada. Because of the last point, Wario refused to apologize.
War between the two great nations was only adverted thanks to the quick thinking of Solid Snake and Lucas. Snake dressed Lucas up as a leprechaun and had him threaten to put a curse on Wario if he did not apologize for the former Prime Minister's death (Wario had developed a crippling fear of leprechauns ever since he had watched all six Leprechaun movies one St. Patrick's Day in order to indulge his 0.01 percent of Irish ancestry).
Wario immediately apologized and an international incident was avoided.