10 February 1997
MK
Dear Diary,
Peach hosted another kart race today. Each of the tracks were updated with a fresh, new look, and she'd even added a few new ones, like Luigi Raceway. (Well, at least there's a racetrack named after me. Progress!) Also, the kart race's layout had changed. There were still four cups: Mushroom, Flower, Star and Special, but there were four races per cup, instead of five. In addition, we could utilize new items, such as Triple Mushrooms, Super Mushrooms, Fake Item Boxes, Banana Bunches, Triple Green Shells, Triple Red Shells and Spiny Shells (God, I hated those things!). Racing alongside me were Mario, Peach, Toad, Yoshi, DK and Koopa, along with a brand new racer—Wario. I could see him and Mario shoot each other glares throughout the race.
The day's races ran in this order: Mushroom Cup, Flower Cup, Star Cup and the Special Cup as the grand finale. The weather also held, save for a brisk chill in the morning. But before long, the temperature didn't matter to me. Once again, something deep inside me began to boil, and it roared to life as soon as I hammered down on the gas pedal. I still remembered being left out of Mario's painting-traversing and star-collecting adventure last year, albeit we talked things out. Even after then, Koopa kept trying—every Tuesday or Friday, or even every Tuesday and Friday. I did my part, I protected Mario from the worst of what Koopa threw at us, and I got dirty and sweaty and bruised and bloody. And no matter how hard I fought, all the Toads seemed to see was Mario. Instead of throwing a tantrum, I'd just focus it inward and use it for productive purposes, like my daily sweat-outs at Josh's gym (which actually reminds me, Jackie's about to pop any day now!), plumbing jobs in both the MK and Brooklyn (business is still going strong, even stronger), dancing to the latest, hottest tunes in solitude in my room—and this. My feet on the pedals, my hands on the steering wheel, maneuvering my kart through asphalt, dirt roads, stone roads and even ice, and I took the aggression and frustration and focused it all on one thing, and one thing only—the finish line.
This time, my sleeves were rolled up to my shoulders, perspiration sparkling along my arms. My heart pistoned in time with my engine and the engines of the racers around me. At the green light, I rocketed off, muscling against the others for the item block and the ramp that would give me an advantage. No obstacles on the courses deterred me—not one. Not even driving against traffic on Toad's Turnpike, not even the lava on Koopa's Castle. My lips were pressed tightly together, my eyes were narrowed, an item—a Shell or a Banana or one of them in threes—heavy in my hand. My blood was red-hot, and anyone who dared throw a Shell at me or trip me with a banana peel or launch me with a False Item Box was screamed at. By the time the Special Cup started, I was really worked up, taking on the bridges of DK's Jungle Parkway, the steep canyons of Yoshi Valley and the wooden docks of Banshee Boardwalk with unbelievably steely nerves.
It all culminated on Rainbow Road, the track somewhere in space, with its big drops, wide loops, corkscrews and hairpin bends. Unlike the race in 1992, there were star-shaped guardrails, but thanks to the drops, there was still a chance of falling off the course. I raced past neon-light portraits of me and the other racers, which was a lovely aesthetic addition. Roving Chomps zig-zagged throughout the course, but I was able to evade them with ease, "Coco Jamboo" by Mr. President blaring on my car's stereo. Nothing like a little Eurodance to boost me through a race. I threw back my head and sang along to the chorus, my stomach doing flips and jumps whenever I encountered a drop, a corkscrew or a hairpin bend. On the final lap, I whooped and hollered and gave it everything I had, flying across the finish line in first place to the strains of "Ecuador" by Sash. The song continued as I did my victory lap and the spectators cheered for me.
YOU ARE READING
Unwritten: Diary of a Lean Green Plumber
FanfictionAn art form attempted countless times gets a brand new spin. Within these pages lie the words Luigi would never dare to speak aloud, all of the powerful feelings he can't bring himself to verbally express. Dive in, and surrender yourself as you gl...
