Super Mario Was Based On A Guy I Caught Fucking My Wife

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By Shigeru Myamoto

Many years ago, when Nintendo was just thinking about dipping it’s toes into the video game console business, I came home from a late meeting to find my wife getting fucked by some jackass with a mustache. I did what any man would do in my situation; I started crying. Then I pursued him. I chased him down alleyways, busy streets, even the roofs of several of the lower-to-the-ground buildings. No matter what move I made or how fast I ran, I couldn’t catch up to him. I had to admit defeat and return to my adulterous wife with my tail between my legs. To make up for cheating on me, I made her pee in my mouth while I kneeled in the bathtub. If that didn’t teach her a lesson, I didn’t know what could.

For months after the incident I couldn’t get the image of the man out of my mind. He moved so fast, so gracefully. He leapt over sewers, flaming pits and turtles like he was doing nothing more than walking to work. I had to know more about him. I asked my wife but she was hesitant to give me any information. I made her crush my testicles under her heels as a punishment for keeping secrets. After losing track of one of my testicles we found ourselves at the hospital where, after taking pity on me, she finally told me the man’s name and profession: he was a plumber by the name of Mario.

So the mustached man was a plumber? I should have known. My wife had always had a thing for plumbers. In fact, I was a plumber when we met. I came over to her house on a call to find her lying completely naked on the kitchen floor. After I covered her up with a handful of paper towels, I went to work on the sink only to turn around and find that she’d taken all the paper towels off and thrown them away! Those were the paper towels I brought from home, mind you. The least she could have done was neatly roll them up and put them to the side. That’s around the time I realized that she was coming onto me and I stopped worrying about the paper towels all together and I mashed my man stuff into her lady parts until there was a godawful mess between us.

That’s around the time her then husband showed up and things got even messier. I decided it would be best for me to not get involved so I put my pants back on and got to work fixing that garbage disposal while those two talked out the rest of their marriage in the other room. Sooner or later someone got a hold of a gun and before you knew it the husband was dead. I helped her get rid of the body in exchange for a handjob and we’ve been together ever since. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we’re happy. And the experience of getting cheated on in the same way in which I took her from another man was both ironic and a blessing in disguise, because from it? I got Mario.

Mario wasn’t exactly like the man I caught giving my wife everything he had to offer. For one, he was a good guy. He didn’t fuck other people’s wives, he just tried to save his from the Bowsers out there that are trying to fuck our wives. I took my arch nemesis and I made him the hero of my story, because I’m super dark and edgy like that Clockwork Orange guy, and also I wanted to make a point about heroes. Mario may not have been a hero in my life, but maybe he is to other people. To Mario, I was just another Goomba getting in his way, but to other people, Mario was their only hope. Toad was his boy. Peach was his boy. Even Bowser was his boy when he’d take some time off from kidnapping good folk to do some kart racing or play a little tennis. Mario is a complex dude. You can’t pin him down.

But just because Mario saved the Mushroom Kingdom doesn’t mean he didn’t fuck my wife.