Orange Star (100 Posts) Legacy User (Silver)
The Koopa Kid - A love story.
(Wait no. Forget that last part.)
(Wait no. Forget that last part.)
Okay so, anyway. I'd like to try some serious writing and since my wizardfics aren't nearly developed enough to be put into words, so I'm going to try this out. It's not going to be entirely serious. I wouldn't feel right trying to write A study in scarlet in a universe as ridiculous as the Mario one.
The Koopa Kid - Chapter One
Hugg was not much of anybody, in truth. Born a Koopa and raised a loser, there was really nothing to distinguish him from anybody else of his race. For the longest time it seemed that the only thing he'd ever accomplish would be beaten by a hero. Hugg did not, of course, consider Mario or Luigi heroes, but he could not ignore, albeit spitefully, their valor. Many a friend had been crushed under the fat Italian of legend, and Hugg remembered every single one of them, or at least pretended to.
It had been another fine day. Or rather, technically fine, though the mood of impending death soiled nearly everybody's moods, save for the few of Hugg's associates lucky enough to be completely stoned. Hugg could not but feel extremely irritated as he paced back and forward on a levitating platform of dud-blocks. As he walked, he could not help but feel that his entire life up till now had been entirely meaningless, and that his death would be just as meaningless. Why couldn't he rescue some extremely insecure Blonde? Granted, he'd prefer a Koopa, but he'd be willing to go as low as a bloody Goomba! As long as he did something useful.
He heard running, and could not help but turn around. The Italian had come for his soul!
Hugg could not help but shiver. And, though this is strictly confidential, he even cried a little bit. The Italian was going through his allies like bowls of spaghetti - every pound of fat on his body seemed almost as if it actually assisted him in his athletics rather than in any way impeded him. He turned around, resolute, ready to face the reaper. The reaper, of course, would not be a bottomless pit or a pair of fat boots, but probably an execution for the charge of treason! As the flying spaghetti monster neared him, he dove out of his shell, sending it flying off his platform and towards the man. He, of course, dodged it with ease. Damn, Hugg thought, He's athletic for a walrus!
With nothing but his boxers on he ran like he'd never run before, which is to say, pretty slowly, as for the most part he had been about as athletic as a potato. A pipe to one of Bowser's hidden coin stashes was just in front of him. Bowser's stupidity might just save his life, and he knew that the Italian would sell his right arm at the flash of a coin. The Italian jumped once more, and the nearly indecent Koopa froze in place... as Mario floated through the air like a flying boulder. A soft boulder, but still. He landed on the pipe, stuck his tongue out at Hugg, and proceeded to descend, extremely slowly. Hugg still wasn't sure how he was able to slowly fall down pipes, but he was sure it had something to do with his extreme case of obesity.
Hugg had a thought. He ran towards the exit pipe, hoping to make it in time. He could already hear the fat bastard ascending in his incredible feat of bending reality. He jumped toward the pipe, soared, even. Unfortunately, he was a koopa, and koopas, unfortunately, suck. The edge of the pipe hit him in the stomach, but he managed to grab onto the pipe to stay in place. As Mario ascended, he touched Koopa's chin, and instantly shrieked in pain, sounding more like an enraged harpy than a man. He shrunk down to half his size and Hugg mentally punched himself. He'd forgotten that he took two hits.
He flashed with invincibility momentarily, and continued ascending. Hugg slowly climbed up onto the pipe, his form intersecting Mario's. If he could time this just right...
As Mario jumped upwards, his invincibility wore off. His foot, making contact with Hugg's head, provoked another harpy scream. Mario was dead! Hugg, of course, knew that that fat bastard had more lives than he had hairs on his head, but it would buy some time. At any rate, he could at least flee the battlefield without feeling the threat of being beheaded looming over his somewhat freckled face. Maybe he'd get a promotion? He headed towards the castle, feeling lucky to be alive. He'd stopped the reaper! Or, at least, tripped him.