Mario Jumpman, Hero of the Mushroom Kingdom and Lover of “Cake”

Mario eyed the bright pink notebook he had found in Peach Gardens with some suspicion. The words “Grimoire Fantasia” was embossed on its cover in glittery, flowing script. He had already taken a peek inside at the rules printed in silver ink on the first pastel pink page. Printed, thankfully. If it were hand-written in cursive, it could’ve taken him a long time to decipher them from the headache-inducing color palette. He pondered again the title of the book, translating it in his mind: The Tome of Fantasies.

It seemed too good to be true, but Mario was not a closed-minded individual; he was more than capable of believing impossible things. After all, he had been a participant in impossible things: He had been warped here, to the Mushroom Kingdom, during a routine plumbing inspection in Brooklyn and was almost immediately shanghaied into rescuing a princess by a bunch of anthropomorphic mushrooms from a fire-breathing turtle-dragon that commanded an army of bipedal turtles and another set of anthropomorphic mushrooms. Since then he had thrown fire from his finger tips, flown with the power of a cape, rescued the lords of allied fiefdoms from the aforementioned turtle-dragon’s adoptive children, found the race responsible for his care as an infant, been falsely accused of vandalizing a paradise island with magic paint, turned into a painting, traveled through both space and time, fought giant hands vying for control of the multiverse, and had his numerous advances spurned by the woman he had been rescuing (and, admittedly, simping for) in every. Single. Fucking. Adventure.

So needless to say, he did not doubt that such an object existed, much less the power it supposedly wielded, but why now of all times? It had been clear to Mario for a very long time that Princess Peach Toadstool was not interested in him sexually or romantically, even if he had spent most of that time in denial. He liked to think that he was an emotionally stalwart individual, but having his marriage proposal shot down after he had fought for Peach’s virtue on the moon? That had been a massive blow to his ego.

Not to mention, after all the times that King Bowser Koopa had shown up out of the blue to kidnap the Princess for whatever reason (what was it, anyway? It was never all that clear to Mario why Bowser was so obsessed with her.), it had taught Mario to be wary of attacks from seemingly weird angles. Deception was most definitely in the dragon king’s toolset. Mario would never forget the time that Koopa set up an attack on the Castle to distract him so that the King of the Darklands could swoop down in his clown car and scoop up the princess who was standing just outside Mario’s house.

But the more Mario thought on it, the more he came to realize that this couldn’t be a ploy by the Lord of the Koopa. He was capable of deception, yes, but he was also very overt. Every ****, invasion, or attack was performed with a show of ****. Simply dropping a magic notebook from the sky, right into Peach’s Castle Gardens? It was too subtle. If he could get that close, why not simply bring in an airship to steal the whole castle? For the umpteenth time?

Could this have been a trick from any of the Kingdom’s other enemies? Mario hadn’t seen a tad nor pole from Wart in years, that single showdown had apparently been enough to swear the Frog King off of the Mushroom Kingdom forever. If the Grimoire truly worked, Wario or Waluigi would’ve simply kept it. As for King Boo, he was more interested in getting even with Mario’s brother Luigi. Sure that made him a target for the Haunt King’s ****, but Mario doubted if this was one his schemes. If it were, why not use it to entice Mario’s taller sibling?

No, the only way this could be a trap is if didn’t work the way it said it did. But if it did, why the middle of the gardens? Was some sex god or goddess just bored? Mario waved the thought away, speculation would get him nowhere. The real question was, should he use it? Mario had to admit, he was sorely tempted. After years of saving Princess Peach and the Mushroom Kingdom (hell, the entire multiverse, even) and being blue-balled time and time again, it was very hard not to begin writing down every perverted fantasy he had ever had. But the nagging thought that this might be a trap kept pulling at his mind, paranoia refusing to unhook itself.

“Mama mia,” Mario muttered. You know what? He owed it to himself to at least try the thing out. If it worked, great! A whole new world of possibilities would open itself up to the plumber. If it was a trap, oh well, it was probably nothing that Mario couldn’t handle anyways.

Pulling out a pen from his overalls, Mario turned to the first blank page of the Grimoire Fantasia and began to write out his first entry.