Mario reflected on his life.
Time spent with his brother(s). His tireless pursuit of the Princess. Days filled with mushroom consumption. But there had to be more to life than this…
As he tightened his overall straps to begin another day he noticed a stray thread sticking out near his right pocket. “What do we have uh-here?” whispered Mario. “You’re trying to escape, aren’t you, little thread?” Mario could relate to this thread. He’d always been a single strand in the fabric of the universe, unable to choose his own destiny. At times it even seemed like someone else was controlling his actions. Empathizing with this lone thread, Mario decided to help the thread reach its goal: freedom.
As if Mario was freeing himself from the chains of reality, he grasped the rebelling string, noticing its efforts to depart from the denim uniformity that was his overalls. He pulled on the thread but it was held firmly in place by the rest of the fabric. Mario labored and tugged at the string until it was wrought free like King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone.
Momentary joy in freeing the thread was quickly replaced with horror. Mario realized that the thread had not come cleanly out; a tear formed where the thread once resided. In removing the thread, Mario had jeopardized the fate of the entire pair of overalls. The blue overalls, once clean and pure and even considered strong, were now vulnerable. The small tear above his right pocket could be the downfall of his wardrobe (assuming he only has one pair of overalls, although Mario’s outfit IS always clean, hinting that he could have a deep closet full of multiples of the same outfit; a la “Hey Arnold!”).
But… maybe this was the fate of the overalls. If destiny truly had a hold on each and every thing, including himself, who’s to say that it wasn’t the overalls’ destiny to be harmed? Was Mario the lone thread? Could he choose his own fate? Was the overalls’ susceptibility without the thread reflective of the universe’s fate without its 8-bit hero?
Mario began to reconsider his relationship with the outfit he’d always known. Could there be other, BETTER outfits? Maybe an ironic, trendy wolf tee. Or even slacks and a blazer. The denim was constricting and awfully hot. Were overalls really the most efficient outfit for a “plumber” running around in the heat all day?
Snapping from his trance, Mario decided what he had to do: Separate himself from the overalls once and for all.
Finally awake to his full potential, Mario Chalmers embraced his new mindset in the same manner he would soon dawn his new outfit. “I’ve had my share of meaningful experiences,” he declared. “I’ve taken on AND DEFEATED enemies by myself. I even won the 2008 Star Cup without anyone’s help! I should be able to choose my outfit.”
“Why shouldn’t I be the leader of my own life?”Mario continued. “I’ve proven that I’m more than capable! It’s LuIgi’s fault… HE’S the one holding me back! Just because he’s taller, a little bit faster and can jump a LITTLE bit higher, does that mean he’s better than me?! NO. I’m the one in charge of this life. I’ll ditch this outfit if I want! IF I WANT MY OWN OUTFIT, NO ONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO STOP ME! IT’S UH ME- MARIO!!! BOW DOWN BEFO–”
“What are you talking about?”
Mario’s eyes snapped open.
Regaining consciousness of his surroundings he felt the sweat on his brow and discovered that he was standing on a chair in front of his Miami Heat locker.
“‘Rio, what are you doing?” asked Dwyane Wade.
“I… uh,” stammered Mario.
“You did it again, didn’t you?” said Wade. “Man, I thought I told you. No more video games on the team flights. How many times do we have to go over this? You’re lucky it was only me who heard you this time- can you imagine if ‘Bron had heard you again? HE WOULD KILL YOU.”
“Yeah I know,” mumbled Mario, embarrassed as usual.
“If you want a trade, just talk to management. It don’t help to scheme against LeBron all the time… Now take off those lame-ass overalls, ‘Rio. They ain’t your style”
“Alright, I’ll catch you tomorrow, D,” said Mario, folding his faded overalls and placing them in his cherished KU duffle bag. He heard the locker room fall silent as the door closed behind Wade.
The light of the Heat locker room helped him return from yet another schizophrenic episode. Mario rubbed his forehead and thought to himself, “Someday… not yet, but soon.”