He staggered around his house, depressed.

“A-nother a-day, a-nother a-coin,” he said, despondently. His day was going to play out like normal. Shower. Shit. A bowl of ‘Shroom Cereal. Save the Princess. Drink. Stare into the void. Cry. Black out. This routine was getting more and more pathetic and he knew it. As he put on his signature cap and pulled up his overalls, there was a knock at the door.

“Hmm? Who’s a-there?”

No answer. He stepped closer to the entrance. “Hello?” he said again. Still nothing.

“Hel–God, fuck-a this.” With that, he swung the door open. To his surprise there were two adorable people. Well, one was a yellow humanoid dog girl thing and the other was a person wearing a shirt with a giant “1” and a twinkle of death in his eye, but you know, whatever. There are talking mushroom people in this world, it’s fine.

“Oh! Why hello! What-a can I do-a for you?” asked the plumber. The two…people/dog/things looked at one another and giggled cutely.

“HWLTUSOEORISNVBALSRJTGE!” they both said, unintelligibly, together. They looked forward, smiles never leaving their faces.

“Ah…what-a the hell?” asked the portly Pipe House owner. “That-a made no sense!”

“UKCF!” cried the dog lady. She then handed him a letter with a leaf stamped on it. The Goomba-stomper opened the message cautiously, all the while watching the two strangers as they stared uncomfortably. As he began to scan the words, his eyes widened. His long forgotten smile slowly crept back underneath his extremely well groomed mustache.

“Fuck-a me! I forgot!” he sputtered out. With that, he jumped into the air, higher than he had ever done in recent months. “Wah-hoo! Let’s-a go!”

And so they were off to the races. New tracks had recently been built, some with the help of the two cuddly people/canine/creatures, who hailed from the town of CockLand9000. The creator of the small suburb, a 13 year old boy, was swiftly removed as Mayor, but the name could not be changed for legal reasons. The creative courses were vast and imaginative and the proverbial Player 1 was immensely impressed as he took them all in.

“Mama Mia…” he uttered. There were Woods that were, by most people’s understanding, quite Wild, a Road of Ribbons, a City that had somehow been acquired by an utterly cutthroat dinosaur/turtle hybrid and rebranded as Neo, a Land made entirely of Cheese (Gouda of course), and a Park specifically and somewhat creepily designed for any and all Babies, including younger versions of certain racers, resulting in odd causality loops and a fucked up timeline. The competitions all started and ended with a joy that truly does need to be experienced first hand. Winding through trees, mountains of cheese, and a rain-slick precipice of a city never felt or looked so good.

The Super Bell Subway, once a thriving mode of transportation in whatever the fuck land we’re currently talking about, was, for inexplicably no reason, “changed” into a racetrack. By “changed”, I mean that the cloud surfing Race Warden, who runs the Kart Sector with an iron stoplight, just told everyone it was “totally fine to drive there” and that the trains would “totally not run into them.” Graffiti littered the walls as their karts, ATVs, and cycles zoomed past the metal death machines that “totally can’t hurt you.”

The lush and vibrant roads of CockLand9000 (apologies again) were also turned into a circuit. It also happened to be the only course in the entire world that was affected by weather change. Politicians were baffled, but the view was absolutely breathtaking any time of the year, especially at the Town Square where presents rained down every lap. It truly was everyone’s burfday.

As the Jump Man hopped off his newly acquired Bone Rattler, the latest and greatest ATV model cobbled together at Sunshine Parts, the tires covered in both melted Gouda and pink ribbons, he wondered what could possibly be the final event. All of these stages had been phenomenal so far. Beautiful and sweeping in scope, how could it get any better?

As he came to the last starting line, his eyes grew once more. It was Big. It was Blue. People were calling it Large Azure, which was a horrible name, but clearly there was no alternative.

“I mean-a that pretty much-a covers it in a nutshell,” stated the Italian driver, bluntly. Waiting for him was a brand new experimental kart, the P-Wing, decked out with a prototype engine that could hit top speeds no one had ever dreamed of before.

“Boy, they sure are a-running out of-a names for these,” he said, somewhat saddened by the lack of creativity. However, once he was behind the wheel, all his worries disappeared. Advanced Leaf Tires, a virtually untouched steering wheel, and a fresh coat of white straight from Ludwig Painting. It was perfect.

As he buckled up and turned the key, his smile returned once more. The Race Warden floated down, menacingly, and raised his fingers high. The closing heat, with a cutting-edge and extreme speed, was about to begin.

Red.

He gripped the wheel tighter, his gloves wet with sweat.

Red.

He revved his engine, scowling at his competition.

Red.

“Let’s-a fuckin’ go…”

Green.

A crowd huddled around a small cavity in the Earth’s crust. They watched as a coffin was lowered slowly into the ground. The priest, a small statured mushroom man of great renown in the land, tried to get through his sermon without shedding a tear, but the task proved far more difficult than he had anticipated.

“200cc was…was just too much for him…” he managed to utter. The P-Wing had not made it fifty feet before slamming headfirst into a wall and exploding, burning the Roto-Rooter wannabe alive. “At least…at least he was able to drive all of these freshly created raceways, each designed with impeccable love and care containing magnificent sights, memorable and interesting lap structure, and some extremely unforgettable musical pieces, one time before…before he…”

Waterworks. No one could quell their sadness. The plane of existence that these random assortment of characters inhabited had lost someone great. Someone who would never be forgotten. As they all left, condolences were given to the brother. He nodded and thanked them all, tears rolling down his face, dampening his once pristine and perfect mustache.

Soon he was alone. He stared down at the ground, the wind blowing at his green suit coat. After a moment, the wind grew silent. Slowly, a crooked grin formed across his face. From the shadows, two lumbering figures, a giant ape and the aforementioned owner of a Neo City, approached. Wire cutters and a snipped break line were in their hands. The brother of the deceased turned and tossed them both two bags of coins, filled to the brim and spilling over. They greedily counted their haul as he began to walk away.

The man in green opened his cell phone and placed a call. On the other end, a voice with a royal tone answered.

“Hello?” the voice said, softly.

“Hello Princess. It’s-a me. Luigi.”