Something very strange happened when we checked the mail here at Nintendo Life Towers this morning. We're used to seeing lots of strange letters and packages come through (typically beard maintenance items for Ron, or poorly-concealed letter bombs addressed to Chicken Brutus), but today we actually found a number of letters that had been delivered here by accident.
These letters appear to have been sent from The Mushroom Kingdom, and they must have been accidentally dropped off here on their way to the North Pole. Unfortunately there's no way we could get them there before Santa leaves to make his rounds, so we're printing them here, in the hopes that St. Nick will see and be able to read them in time.
Normally we wouldn't post other people's mail like this, but we think this constitutes a special case. Enjoy this peek into the Christmas wishes of your favourite Nintendo characters; fingers crossed they get everything they want.
It's a-me, Mario. I know this letter is late, but I had a hard time deciding what to ask for this year. After all, I've already gotten pretty much everything I could imagine. I've been to space, I've been deep under the sea, and I've won every major sporting event in the world. I can shoot fireballs, throw hammers, turn into a statue, ride dinosaurs, and get endlessly reincarnated when I fall off of cliffs. Sometimes I can even breathe underwater, though I won't question the times that I can't.
So, really, what can I even ask for? I've been given so much over the years that I really don't know what else I could need. I was even recently given a box that I wear on my head which spits money all over the place. If that's not evidence that I have enough, I don't know what is.
I know the selfless thing to do here would be to ask for world peace, but if that happened I'd be out of a job. Sure, I guess I could go back to plumbing, but it's been so long since I've actually repaired somebody's toilet that I'd really better stick with koopa stomping instead.
Maybe I'll just leave it up to you. But one thing I will ask is that you please at least lay off the mushrooms. I know you think they make good stocking stuffers, but by this point I have mushrooms that make me big, mushrooms that make me huge, mushrooms that make me small, mushrooms that kill me, mushrooms that give me an extra life, mushrooms that make my car drive faster...seriously, enough with the mushrooms already. I live in the Mushroom Kingdom; if I really want one I can just pick it out of any given field... and it probably won't pull any Alice in Wonderland garbage on me either.
Actually, you know what? Just bring me a bunch more of those money-spitting head things. I don't really need the money, but I like the sound it makes when I get more of it. Never, never gets old.
Imma Luigi! I am writing to you today to share my Christmas list! Only I don't really know what to ask for. Unlike my brother, I'm not confused because I have everything already. No... I'm confused because I know that everything I ask you for backfires, like some kind of ironic punishment.
When I asked for a mansion, you had me win one, alright... one that was infested with ghosts! When I asked to star in a game of my own, you gave me a terrible geography game that was less fun than taking an actual test. And when I asked to jump higher than my brother, you gave me that too... but took away my traction, so that I can't even walk across the room without falling and cracking my head on a piece of furniture. I swear, dealing with you is worse than making wishes on the freaking Monkey's Paw. I'm terrified to ask for anything else!
I thought about asking for something simple. Something safe. I thought maybe I'll ask for an apple, and then I figured you'd give me a giant apple, falling from the sky at a thousand miles per hour and heading straight for my house. Then I thought I'd ask for a pet Yoshi, but you'd probably give me some demon Yoshi with razor claws or something. I can't even ask for a peaceful night's sleep, because you'd probably just smother me with a pillow!
So please, Santa. Do not visit me this year. I honestly don't think I can handle any more gifts. Please pass me by. Don't give me any presents at all... that's my Christmas wish.
Or wait. Actually, you know what? Whatever Twilight Zone kind of psychological torture you had planned for me; whatever cursed gift you've got in your sleigh with my name on it... please bring it to my brother instead. That guy could do with a little misfortune once in a while.
All the best to you and your brother,
Merry Christmas, Santa Claus. I've been a good little boy this year, I promise. Don't bother checking your list, just take my word for it.
Anyway, I've been so good that I think I deserve a brand new death trap. See, I've spent more than a quarter of a century trying to kill some fat Italian guy, and I just haven't had any luck. I've tried everything from swooping down on him in a floating clown head to relaxing casually in my bathtub while he beats the crap out of me (not sure why I thought that would work...) and I just can't stop him. And, judging by the way he eats, cholesterol can't either.
I need a new death trap. I need something that will take him down for good. Preferably nothing that comes with a switch he can hit that drops me down into some lava... do you have any idea how long it takes me to regrow my flesh? A long time! Honestly I'm not sure why I bother installing those switches at all, but that's a story for another time.
So please bring me a new death trap. I'm thinking a machine that throws bombs at him would be the way to go. Or, no, actually he could just catch the bombs and throw them back... scratch that. Let's drop heavy objects on him and flatten him like a pancake. Or, wait...pretty sure Donkey Kong tried that on him back in '91. It was a terrible plan.
A giant snowman? No, he could have a Fire Flower. A big robotic spider thing that shoots guided missiles and has legs you can run up? No... that's pretty obviously a bad idea too.
I guess I've leave this one up to you. Just know that I was very good and totally deserve this.
Or, you know, you could just burn his house down for me. I mean, you'll be in there anyway. Just sayin'.
Your Glorious Koopa King,
Merry Christmas Big Boy.
I know exactly what I want this year, and I'm not going to beat around the bush about it either. I'm not going to play coy, and I'm not going to act shy: I want you to kidnap me.
No, listen, hear me out. I want you to come into the castle, sling me over your shoulder, and take me to your isolated fortress area. It's not difficult, I promise.
The fact is, I'm getting kidnapped a lot. Like, all the time. And when I am kidnapped, I'm usually locked in some musty dungeon, or stuck in a birdcage on top of a tower somewhere. You'd think Mario could just look in the darkest, dingiest place possible as soon as he finds out I'm gone, because without question that's where I am. Seriously, Mario? You really think I'm being held captive in a tropical beach world? No! I'm in the treacherous lava death hole and you know it! Get your butt over here already!
But I digress. I figure that as long as I'm being captured, I might as well be captured by someone who lives in a nice place. I don't mind the cold weather, and you operate a toy factory for crying out loud. That's exactly where I'd like to while away my captive hours. So what do you say? Want to take home a little baggage in exchange for what you leave under the tree?
And don't you go pulling that "I'm married" excuse either. I've heard "Santa Baby." And we are all aware of that story of the boy who caught you snogging his mother. We all know where Mrs. Claus stands I think, and she won't be all that surprised to see you bringing home another blonde.
I'll be ready for you at midnight, like it or not. Oh, and on the way back, would you mind if we took a slight detour? I want you to plow your sleigh into some Luma for me. There's a woman up there trying to move in on my man, and I'd like to send her something of a message. Ahem.
Yours (no, really...yours),
Dear Santa Claus:
Let's get one thing straight. My name is Toad, but I am also part of a larger community, all of which are called Toads. I know this is confusing, and I know it's probably rude of me to say anything when you spend all of Christmas Eve being so selfless, but it's really getting annoying.
When you have a gift addressed to "Toad," please take some time to determine which "Toad" it's for. It's really not that difficult if you pay attention. We all have distinct personalities, for one, and some of us even have different coloured hats and vests. One of us wears glasses, another has a mustache. I think one of us even stutters... it's not that hard. Really, I'm just asking for a little respect here.
When I unwrap a gift on Christmas morning that's clearly intended for my neighbour, it's upsetting. It makes me feel as though you can't tell us apart, and that you don't even care to. Do you have any idea how discouraging that is? Something tells me you can identify your elves without any trouble; you can tell Mario and Luigi apart even though the only difference between them a lot of the time is what colour overalls they decided to put on that morning... but Toads? No. No, there's no need to worry about the Toads. They're all the same. Do you have any idea how rude and reductive that is?
Last year, I got an easel. That's wonderful, Santa. I have no interest in art and no talent in that area at all, but I got an easel... despite the fact that it's a TOTALLY DIFFERENT Toad that paints. The year before that I got a new fuel line for my spaceship. How thoughtful! It's sitting in a closet now collecting dust because I DO NOT HAVE A SPACESHIP. THAT IS A DIFFERENT TOAD TOO. The year before that I got a set of pink ribbons for my hair. Come on! That's obviously for Toadette, and she even has a different name! You're not even trying!
How would you feel if I said all fat old people look the same to me? Pretty bad, right? And what if I left you a plate of prunes instead of cookies, because my chubby old grandfather loved prunes and I'll just treat everybody the same from now on? You wouldn't like it, that's for sure. And that's how I feel every Christmas day: interchangeable. You wouldn't know me from the Toad in castle 5-4, and that's just sad. (Nobody even likes that guy, and his level is CRAP.)
Oh well, it's not like this will change the way you look at Toads in the future. I can't wait for Christmas morning, when I open up my new bikini and can of dog food. Thanks for nothing, Santa.
Enjoy the prunes,