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It appeared as though Bowser was sunbathing. Lying on his stomach with his limbs stretched out, he looked like he was enjoying the sunlight falling on the balcony of his stone castle. But Mario had read on his phone that sick turtles simply sought warmth.
“Hey.” Mario nudged the pitiful creature. Bowser barely stirred. Another sign that he wasn’t doing well. Mario pressed harder. Bowser gave way like rubber. Mario had almost pushed Bowser onto his side when he felt some resistance. He pulled his finger away.
Bowser fell back with a groan. “Do you get a kick out of torturing a poor animal?”
Maybe he wasn’t faking it. Mario placed his finger on Bowser’s hot head. Bowser’s eyes rolled up toward him. Usually, he would bite.
“You’re really in bad shape.”
“Wow, you’re just noticing? And now, hands off! You’re touching royalty.”
Mario applied even more pressure with his finger. Bowser huffed smoke like a broken incense burner. “Aren’t you listening? Stop it!” Bowser snapped at him and seemed to regret it immediately as he slumped in pain.
Mario smirked. He pressed down on Bowser’s shell until the creature beneath groaned. “You tortured us. You deserve this.”
“I don’t deserve this, Mario,” Bowser hissed through the pain. “I’ve made some damn big mistakes, I know that. But I don’t deserve that you torture me like this. You don’t know what I’m going through right now.”
“You’ve terrorized an entire kingdom. You’ve put Brooklyn in danger. Above all, you’ve harmed my family. You almost killed my brother. You assaulted Peach. You deserve it.”
Bowser screamed. A tortured, choked sound. Mario realized he’d used more force than intended. He pulled his hand away.
Bowser looked at him, deeply distressed. “S-Stop… Stop it. You’re a hero. Heroes don’t do things like this.”
“I’m not a hero,” Mario said. “I’m just a plumber who fixes problems. And that also means getting rid of scum like you.”
“You hate to hurt others. You’re not made to destroy.” The conviction in Bowser’s voice frightened him. Luigi must have told him.
“Sometimes it’s necessary.” Mario flicked Bowser’s head. “You don’t deserve happiness. You don’t even deserve this castle. Above all, you don’t deserve my brother.” Mario clenched his hand into a fist and swung it back. Bowser raised his arms over his head, making himself even smaller than he already was.
The blow didn’t come. Mario wasn’t that nice – he wouldn’t give Bowser the chance to grow big again. Bowser realized it. He peeked cautiously over his arms.
“You’re angry because I’m spending time with your brother.” It wasn’t a question. Mario didn’t answer. “Hey, I thought we’d cleared that up.”
Mario glared down at him.
“Why are you even here?” Bowser asked. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be.”
Mario debated whether he should continue to speak to him at all. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because Luigi asked me to.”
“He didn’t ask you to torment me, and I’m going to tell him what you did.”
“You won’t.”
“Oh, yeah, I will. He won’t approve. He trusted you.”
Mario searched Bowser’s words and body language for a bluff, but found none. He was dead serious. Mario sighed in defeat. “Don’t. You know how he is. He’s – ”
“He’s not fragile,” Bowser cut him off. “That’s why I’m not going to hold back. I’ll tell him things as they are. He can handle it. Better than you think. You don’t have to treat him like he’s made of egg shells.”
“I know,” Mario snapped back. “I’ve known him longer than we’ve been alive. And he is sensitive. You’ve seen how he’s been lately. That recent episode… He hasn’t had one that intense in a long time.” Mario caught himself nervously twirling a lock of hair around his finger, before clenching his hand into a fist. “This is all your fault!” he yelled at Bowser. “The kidnapping! Your weird sacrificial ritual. Even now you’re putting pressure on him!”
Bowser looked at him blankly. “Are you talking about yourself?”
“What?”
“Has it never occurred to you that Luigi might be reacting this way because of you? You’re changing, Mario. That’s not a bad thing. You’re both changing, and you must learn to deal with it.”
“Did Luigi tell you that?”
Bowser shrugged vaguely. “In a way, yeah, I guess. But it’s more my own interpretation. You’re spending more time with Peach, a bit too much time if you ask me, but hey, Luigi is happy for you; he wants you to be happy, and above all, he doesn’t want to get in your way.”
Mario opened his mouth to protest, but Bowser didn’t give him a second to speak. “I know you’re trying not to neglect him; to include him in this friendship – or whatever it is you have with Peach. And he knows it, too. So he’s keeping his distance. But that also makes him kind of lonely. So, he’s looking for someone to simply talk to. And I just happened to be there, that’s all.”
Everything in Mario was tensing up against the claims that might actually reflect the truth. Oh, no, they didn’t. “You don’t understand a thing, Bowser.”
“No, maybe I really don’t understand you two. I don’t have a brother; I don’t even have a family anymore. But at least I understand Luigi as a person. In some ways, we’re alike. We’re both afraid of the world out there, but we’ve developed different strategies to deal with it. You too, Mario.”
Mario stepped forward. “I’m not afraid of the world out there.”
Bowser smiled in a disgustingly arrogant way that somehow still managed to him look likeable. “That’s what I always tell myself, too. But the world hates both of us. Well, it hates you less now, since you’ve become a hero. But what if you hadn’t saved Brooklyn and the Mushroom Kingdom? Then you’d be sitting here feeling like a failure, and I’d be celebrated as a hero.”
“No one would celebrate you as a hero.”
“Not you, but my Koopas, my Goombas, my army. They worship me.”
“For someone they supposedly care so much about, they didn’t even try to free you.”
Bowser let out a hoarse chuckle. “They know me well enough to know that’s not what I want. They’re following their own plan, and when the time is right, they’ll stand by my side again.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mario rolled his eyes. “Believe whatever you want.”
“When will you finally understand that good and evil are two sides of the same coin? It depends on the perspective from which you view it. But really, you and I are the same.”
“I know what you’re getting at, but we’re nothing alike.” Mario stamped his foot, his anger growing. “I’ve never used my ADHD as an excuse to do evil.”
“I’ve never used it as an excuse either. I’m just like this. Some of us are evil, some of us are good. All villains are a little psycho, but not all psychos are villains. Some of us are lucky enough that the world reached out to them in time; others fall through its loosely woven net.”
Mario rolled his eyes. “You could have been good. You just didn’t want to.”
“I didn’t want to live in a world that constantly told me who I had to be and what I had to do. And you probably felt the same way. You probably heard a lot that you were rebellious, that you were a dreamer with no real prospects. They made fun of your perspective, didn’t take you seriously, treated you like a joke. They threatened to kick you out of the family. To not support you if you didn’t dance to their tune.”
Mario huffed and looked away so as not to show how much those words hit home. “You don’t even know me.”
“No, I don’t know you either, but I understand you anyway. We may be different, but our differences are also what bring us together. We’re all neurodivergent; we all have bad experiences. Some of us realize it sooner, others take a while. Some may never understand. But you’re not that kind of person, Mario. You understood it from the start. The world is unfair, and it’s not made for us.”
“I’ve found a world that accepts me just as I am,” Mario said. He thought of the Mushroom Kingdom, even of Brooklyn.
“No, you created it yourself. You improved it bit by bit until it matched your wishes. That’s the difference. And if you’ll excuse me now, I always have the urge to talk, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m damn exhausted. I want to rest now without a plumber constantly poking me in the side. We can talk about Luigi when I’m feeling better.”
Mario watched as Bowser retreated into his shell. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He reached out his hand, hesitated, then pulled it back. Then he asked, “What’s wrong with you, anyway? I mean, why are you feeling so bad?”
“I fell on my shell when I jumped out of the cage to be there for Luigi. I probably suffered some internal injuries in the process. I thought I’d be okay, but I’m afraid the wound has become infected.”
“Shit,” said Mario. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was my way of making the world a little bit better.”
***
The room fell silent. Bowser was still in his shell, and heavy breathing could be heard from within. Mario sat leaning against the castle, checking a few things on his phone. A message popped up at the edge of the screen.
We had to go all the way to Bean Land, but we found a Refreshing Herb. How is Bowser doing?
Mario typed ‘He’s doing okay’, then changed his mind. He sent the message. He’s not doing well. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.
Luigi responded with a thumbs-up. Then he went offline. It would probably be a while before Luigi and Peach returned with the remedy. And until then…
Mario grabbed a thermometer the Toads had left behind and tapped Bowser’s shell – gently this time.
“What do you want?” came a voice from inside the shell.
“I want to check on you.”
“But I don’t want to be seen.”
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Bowser. Come out. I’m not laughing either.” Not that he was in the mood to laugh right now. Their conversation from earlier still weighed heavily on him, and he’d been thinking about a few things. But that didn’t matter now.
Bowser cautiously poked his head out. His scales looked pale, his fiery red mane was tousled. Mario held the tip of the thermometer out to him.
“Are you serious?” Bowser muttered.
“Should I shove it up your butt?”
Bowser stared at him with wide eyes and opened his mouth. Mario put the tip in, taking extra care not to choke Bowser with it. And then they waited. The numbers climbed higher and higher. When Mario pulled the thermometer out after a few minutes, it read around one-hundred-fifty-eight. Mario coughed.
“You do realize that I’m a fire-breathing creature? My normal temperature is around one-hundred-forty-five.” Mario showed him the reading on the thermometer. “Slightly elevated,” said Bowser. “I was actually hoping it would be higher.”
Mario furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
“You know it’s pretty absurd to take my temperature. I can’t get a fever because I’m an ectothermic creature. That’s why I’d hoped to artificially raise my temperature so my body could fight the infection better, but the autumn sunlight is apparently too weak. And those damn Toads didn’t turn on the heater because they think I’m just being dramatic.”
Mario walked over to the heater and turned it to the lowest setting. “Does that mean you can’t feel the cold either?”
“I actually can. I know the room is warm, but I’m still cold. It’s hard to explain if you haven’t felt it yourself.”
“Is it like an inner cold?”
“Maybe, yeah.”
Mario sat back in front of the castle, keeping some distance from Bowser.
“You can come closer. I won’t bite, as long as you leave me alone.”
Mario stayed put and watched Bowser.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Bowser said suddenly.
“What is it?”
“For someone with ADHD, you can stay quiet for quite a long time. How do you manage that?”
“You surely realize that not all of us are hyper, and I’m not like that all the time either.” Mario debated whether he should continue. He took a deep breath through his nose. “Besides, I’m on medication.”
“Wait, really?”
Mario nodded. He pulled one leg up and wrapped an arm around his knee. He didn’t mind talking about it, but it was still hard for him because most people didn’t listen. And no one had ever shown as much interest in it as Bowser. “I’ve been taking it for quite a while. Methylphenidate. Medium dose.”
“And yet you still have aggression issues?”
Mario shot him a sharp look. “You’re lucky the effects of my last dose are still kicking in.”
“That bad?”
Mario tilted his head to the side. “It’s my worst symptom.” He looked at the light streaming through the window into the room. “I’m always angry, constantly starting fights; sometimes I just don’t know what to do with the firestorm of emotions inside me.”
“I know that feeling,” said Bowser. “I want to stomp my feet in anger and just destroy everything. Others called me difficult because of it.”
The word stung his chest in a familiar way. Mario let out a laugh to take the edge off the pain. “Everyone thinks we’re uncontrollable. That we’re putting on some kind of show because we don’t get what we want. No. We just have different needs, and unfortunately, they’re often overlooked. Lu is the only one who’s ever seen what I really needed.”
Bowser smiled.
“What is it?”
“That’s the first time you’ve called him Lu in front of me. Of course, Luigi has already told me about the nickname. You’re letting your guard down, Mario.”
Mario let go of his knee and sat up straight. “I’m not. I just thought I was talking to someone who sees us as kindred spirits. And didn’t you actually say you wanted to rest? Isn’t talking tiring you out?”
“When I retreat into my shell and stay silent, I just feel the pain more intensely. Besides, you should have figured out by now that I can’t stop talking. Even if it kills me.”
“Is it that bad?”
Bowser nodded.
Mario decided to keep distracting him. But to be honest, he was also kind of enjoying it to finally be able to share some things with someone who didn’t immediately reject or misunderstand him. “The medication helps me think more clearly. It lifts the fog that otherwise clouds my mind and makes even my body feel sluggish. It helps me to concentrate. But it’s not a miracle cure. It took me a long time to figure out what works for me. It takes a lot of strategies. If I didn’t have my routine, I’d probably lose my cap. And Luigi—Lu—helps me a lot, too. He reminds me of things such as appointments and my pills.”
“What does Luigi have? I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t ask so directly, especially when you’re telling your story, but I was always wondering. And whenever I ask him, he always seems to dodge the question.”
Mario looked up at the vaulted ceiling and then down at the flag of Bowser’s miniature fortress. “We don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“Oh. Ohhhh!”
Mario laughed without humor. “Everyone always wants to hear a diagnosis, but some of us don’t have one. I was just lucky, though I don’t know if it really has anything to do with luck.”
“I don’t have a diagnosis either,” Bowser admitted.
“What?”
Bowser closed his eyes briefly, as if bracing himself to get hit. “I know, I know. You’re going to hate me now. You’re going to hate me even more than you already did. I know how you diagnosed people feel about people like me.”
“I don’t have an issue with that.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
“My face isn’t speaking for me. Most of the time, I don’t know what it’s doing.”
“Wow, another thing we have in common.”
Mario rolled his eyes, this time a very deliberate gesture. “I just thought that since you’re shouting ‘ADHD’ so loudly, you must definitely have a diagnosis.”
“Was that an ADHD joke?”
Mario shrugged. “Maybe. But why are you so convinced that you have it?”
“Because I do. You diagnosed folks, no, actually everyone needs to stop thinking that ADHD starts with a diagnosis. It’s a label I’ve chosen for myself because it best describes my neurodivergence. I identify with it, and yeah, I’m aware not everyone does.”
“But we do agree that the TikTok generation—”
“Oh, absolutely, the TikTok generation is terrible,” Bowser agreed. “ADHD isn’t a cool trend, it’s a serious condition. It limits us. But it’s not just that. I, at least, often see it as a strength, but as I said that’s just my opinion.”
“Well…” Mario wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say. There were days when he appreciated the creative thoughts and the endless energy; he loved his hyperfocus, which made him forget everything, just as much as he hated it because it made him lose sight of the important. On some days, he wanted to curse the whole world for bringing him into the world with this dysfunctional brain; for doing it to him and Luigi. Luigi had it even harder; there were no medications, no effective therapy, only coping strategies, but still, Luigi was somehow always content. Mario had never heard him say he wanted to swap his brain for another, even if he could. Luigi loved his neurodiversity—at least, that’s how it seemed. Mario knew that this love was complicated.
“It’s a mixed bag,” said Bowser. “Sometimes we love our quirkiness, and other times we want to curse it to hell. It’s a part of us that we have to accept, but we can’t always do that. Often, other people make it hard for us, too. Let’s be honest: Nobody wants us for who we are; they just want our talents.”
Mario wrapped his arms around himself and lowered his head.
“I hit the nail right on the head, didn’t I?”
“Luigi,” said Mario.
“But Luigi isn’t the only one who’s been through it, right?”
Mario took a deep breath and looked up. “Stop giving me therapy!”
“Do you have a…?”
“No,” said Mario. “Lu has a therapist, but I don’t need one. There’s nothing I want to talk about.”
“Still, it seems like there’s a lot you need to work through.”
“I’m working on it!”
“Your impulsiveness is coming out exactly right now. Just take a deep breath.”
Mario sucked in air and let it out with a groan. “How do you always manage to make me angry and then calm me down the moment after? And why does it make you more likeable?”
“You might not realize it yet, but deep down you could be a masochist”, Bowser said. “But if you really want an answer: I used to study psychology. And philosophy. For a whole semester.”
Mario raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“What? Special interests that are constantly changing? Never had any?”
“Yeah,” Mario admitted reluctantly. However, his interest in video games, which he shared with his brother, had always come back. He’d tried other things too: painting, workouts, memorizing an entire encyclopedia, bouldering, cooking, baking, even singing. Okay, yeah, maybe he did have those special interests that were constantly changing.
Bowser laughed as if he’d seen right through him. But he fell silent when Mario suddenly spoke up. “There was once someone who constantly took advantage of my high energy level and my talents. He made me do dangerous work because he believed the high risk would do me good. I was always getting bruises and injuries, but he and everyone else blamed it on me being too careless.” He rolled his eyes to show how absurd it was. “Me and my brother were paid poorly because he thought he was doing the world a favor by giving people like us work in the first place. He constantly shouted at me when I tried to bring up those issues, calling me ungrateful and disobedient. And he used Luigi to build himself a wealthy company. Behind our backs, he betrayed all our ideals. So, we parted ways with him.”
“You’re talking about the Wrecking Crew? Spike?”
Mario grimaced. “How do you know that?”
“Luigi told me.”
“If you already know, why am I even telling you this? Why didn’t you interrupt?”
“Maybe because I wanted to hear your perspective. Luigi’s perspective was a bit… Well, I’d always wondered why you guys just quit your jobs like that when things weren’t even that bad. I mean, he even offered you the lead on a major project.”
“Yeah, because the client specifically requested me. Spike made it sound like it was all thanks to him. Damn, I still can’t stand that idiot.”
“And yet you’re working together again?”
“I’m giving him back what he deserves.”
“And the way you pulled that off with me, I have no doubt you’ll succeed.”
“Was that a compliment?”
Bowser shrugged vaguely. He stretched and grimaced.
“Still in pain?” Mario asked.
“It’s been like this the whole time. It’s getting worse, not better. But luckily, I have a high pain tolerance. Where were we?”
Mario shook his head and stood up. “You really should rest now. Maybe we’ll have another chance to talk about everything. Are you hungry?”
“No,” said Bowser in a tone that was hard to read.
“The Toads said you’ve barely been eating for a while and you refused to have anything since this morning.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Because you’re sick?” Mario’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “Or because you’re being dramatic?”
Bowser rolled his eyes. “Because I’m sick.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m the same when I’m sick. Still, you should eat something. Trust me, it makes you act less like a diva.”
“Hey!” Bowser complained. Then he eyed Mario. “Are you perhaps hungry?”
“No,” Mario said. “The medicine is still working, so—” His stomach growled. Suddenly he was hungry. “Yeah.”
“When I’m hyper-focused on something, I always forget to eat too, and then it hits me all at once. Go ahead and get something. I’m not going to kick the bucket in the next five minutes.”
Mario’s lips curled into a grateful smile, and he left the room.
***
One of the first thoughts Mario had after he had fallen into the Mushroom Kingdom was: ‘They definitely won’t eat mushrooms here!’ Then he learned that mushrooms weren’t just a staple food here – they were practically mandatory. Without them, you couldn’t get a power-up. Or a vegetable plate. Mario stared morosely at the colorful mix on his plate and the many disgusting-looking mushrooms. Why did Toads even cook mushrooms? Who had come up with that? Surely not God or the nature.
With an exasperated sigh, Mario pushed open the door to Bowser’s room. He could tell right away that something was wrong, even if it took him a moment to figure out what. The sun had moved lower, no longer casting any light on Bowser’s balcony. Bowser had retreated to a corner where a faint trace of warmth still lingered.
“Hey,” Mario said, ignoring how sympathetic he sounded toward his arch-enemy. Bowser didn’t respond. He had moved inside his shell. Mario set the plate down and gently nudged Bowser. “Bowser?”
“Leave me alone,” Bowser said. It sounded alarmingly weak, as if he didn’t have any strength left to say it.
“Are you feeling worse?”
No answer. Mario was reluctant to admit it, but he was worried about him. Yet he didn’t know what to do either. He didn’t know Bowser well enough to gauge what he would tolerate and what he wouldn’t. “Do you need anything?” Mario asked instead.
“I’m cold,” Bowser breathed.
That wasn’t the answer Mario had been hoping for. But still, it made him come up with a plan. And he already hated it and himself for doing it. He carefully picked Bowser up and put him on his palm. The shell wobbled. “What are you doing? Are you trying to kidnap me now?”
“That would be a nice reversal of the story. But no.” Mario took his plate in the other hand and left the room.
Bowser didn’t even stick his head out to see where he was taking him. Either he trusted Mario that much, or he really had no strength left at all. After a while, he simply asked, “Where are you taking us?”
“To the castle garden. The sun should still be shining there. Plus, we can see from there when P and Lu return.”
“You call Peach ‘P’?”
Mario felt a flush on his cheek. “Um, that just slipped out.”
“What’s actually going on between you two?”
“Nothing,” Mario said more sharply than he intended. He turned at a pillar and tried to ignore the fact that there were paintings of Peach all over the walls. He felt like her many eyes were following him. “Peach and I are just friends. Nothing more. Maybe business partners, at most.”
“So, I still have a chance with her?”
“Nope,” said Mario. “She doesn’t want you. Get it through your head already.”
“I get it.”
Mario raised an eyebrow skeptically, even though Bowser couldn’t see it. But to his surprise, Bowser continued: “She was just a hyperfixation. One that I unfortunately still have and can’t completely get rid of. She seemed perfect to me. Like someone who would understand me, but our neurodivergences are too different.”
“Peach isn’t neurodivergent.”
“Oh, you’ll be surprised.”
Mario raised both eyebrows now. “Peach is neurodivergent?”
“Everyone is neurodivergent until they prove me otherwise. And Peach hasn’t done that yet, so yes.”
Mario rolled his eyes. What a twisted logic. He liked it.
They reached the castle garden without the guards questioning why he was strolling around with a plate of vegetables and Mini-Bowser in his hands. Or why he was debating the princess’s mental health with that shrunken turtle.
“And the dress,” Bowser continued. “Do you know how well you can stim with a dress without anyone noticing?”
Mario had stopped responding to Bowser. He didn’t even want to know how Bowser knew that in the first place. Besides, he suspected that Bowser was only talking to distract himself from the pain keeping him in his shell.
“By the way, I’m bi.”
The words came so suddenly that Mario reacted involuntarily. “What?”
“In case you want to give me a nickname.”
Mario exhaled. “I think ‘Boo’ fits better.”
“Like King Boo? What do you have against bisexuals?”
“Nothing,” Mario said in defense. “Why do you even think – ”
“You reacted like a homophobe. I could hear your disgust.”
“I wasn’t – I was just surprised, that’s all. I have nothing against bisexuals, really. And before you ask, I’m straight.”
“I didn’t ask. And I think of everyone as queer until they prove me otherwise. You’re still queer to me.”
“Now your logic is getting ridiculous.”
“It’s not that ridiculous if you think about it. Queer and straight aren’t opposites.”
Mario didn’t dare think about it any longer, because he feared discovering an uncomfortable truth.
“We have to stop thinking that only ‘the others’ label themselves. Heterosexuals label themselves, too. They just do it with the most conviction and then think it’s the norm for everyone. Diversity is actually the more likely norm. Those heterosexuals are just another divergence from that norm, so they are queer. By the way, I really am bisexual.”
Mario filed this away as unnecessary information, even though Bowser’s thoughts were actually intriguing. Maybe the world really didn’t work in dichotomies. That would explain why he never fully stood on one side, even though he believed he did.
Good and evil. Two sides of the same coin. Maybe there really was some truth to that. Maybe they were the coin, not the sides.
Mario had reached the sunny side of the garden and settled down in the grass leaning against the wall. The autumn sun shone warmly down on them, but a light breeze was blowing. Without hesitation, Mario took off his cap and placed Bowser inside it to protect him from the cold draft. For the first time, Bowser poked his head out of his shell and looked around, then up at him. “Am I sitting in your lap?”
“In my cap on my lap,” Mario corrected. “Don’t tell me that turns you on right now.”
Bowser chuckled. “Don’t give me that cliché stuff. I don’t fall in love with just anyone. I have standards. You’re a long way from meeting them. For one thing, you’re too small for me.”
Bowser realized too late that the insult wasn’t landing. Mario burst into roaring laughter. “Who’s small here?” he said once he’d calmed down. Bowser pulled such a priceless face that Mario almost burst out laughing again.
“One day I’ll be big again and kiss you.”
Mario’s spit got stuck in his throat, making him cough. “What?”
“That’ll be my revenge. Mark my words.”
Mario let out a chuckle. “You’ll never be big again. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Then at least you won’t have to worry about your heterosexuality being threaten. Maybe.”
“Don’t worry, I have standards too, and you’re waaaay out of my league. For starters, you’re a turtle—”
“Now, don’t go getting racist on me. Interracial relationships have existed for centuries in these kingdoms and in this world.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, you all were more progressive than the rest of humanity,” said Mario. Then he poked around in his vegetables, picking at the mushrooms.
“If you’re already massacring them with your fork, you might as well give them to me,” said Bowser. Mario eyed him skeptically before holding out a pierced mushroom. Bowser devoured the mushroom in one bite and then grinned. “If you eat off the fork now, it’s an indirect kiss.”
Mario took a deep breath and rolled his eyes at the same time. “Stop with these jokes, Bowser.” He provocatively popped a piece of broccoli into his mouth. “And it isn’t.”
“Just a matter of perspective.”
Mario ignored Bowser and kept eating, occasionally feeding Bowser out of pity. “Do you actually like mushrooms?”
“No,” said Bowser, “but I imagine they’ll make me big, and then they actually taste pretty good.”
Mario hesitantly eyed the mushroom on his fork, as if it might jump at him at any moment. Then he hesitantly put it into his mouth. Damn, that was… gross. A shudder ran through his entire body. He swallowed reluctantly. “No,” he said with resolutely. “That doesn’t work.”
“So, you don’t just have daddy issues, but height issues as well,” Bowser remarked.
“Shut up!” Mario set his cap down and ran to the nearest water fountain to rinse his mouth out.
“Wow, you really have a problem with mushrooms. It’s the texture, isn’t it?”
Mario wiped the water from his mouth and looked down at Bowser. “What makes you think that?”
“You’re biting your finger right now, as if you need something hard to cope after that soft bite.”
Mario groaned.
“That was unintentional,” said Bowser. “Could it be that you have a problem with anything sexual?”
“No,” Mario said immediately, taking his finger out of his mouth. “Maybe, yeah, a little. And no, before you start telling me I’m asexual, you’d better be careful not to spout clichés.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Bowser played the innocent, but it was pretty obvious that he’d been about to make a joke. But then he said more seriously, “If you want me to stop, just tell me.”
“No, it’s fine. I kind of think it’s funny. Just don’t make any about Peach and me, I’d find that weird.”
“I’d find that weird, too. Hey, can I make a joke about you and mushrooms?”
Mario narrowed his eyes into slits, from which he hoped lasers would shoot out at Bowser. “I’ll kill you.”
“I believe you,” Bowser said meekly. “So, no comparisons to mushrooms.” Then the corners of his mouth shot up into a grin. “Although you are a real fungi to be around.”
Mario turned away from Bowser and slapped his hands to his forehead. Bowser really was something else. He would have loved to kill him right then and there. But the pain he was going through would probably beat him to it. Bowser grew quieter again and retreated further into his shell.
Mario sat back down and placed the cap on his lap. “Want a few more?” Mario held out a forkful of mushrooms to him, but Bowser disappeared completely into his shell. Mario lowered the fork. “And yeah, it’s the texture,” Mario said. “I can handle the taste, but I can’t stand that slimy, chewy texture. Especially when they’re cooked. And that’s weird, coming from someone with an Italian immigrant family.”
“I don’t think it’s strange to dislike something. And it has even less to do with your background. I don’t eat humans either.”
“You’re a turtle. They eat lettuce, not humans.”
“Dragons do.”
“You’re not a dragon.”
“I’m a half-dragon.”
Mario let the words sink in. “Seriously?”
Mario couldn’t see it, but he believed Bowser was nodding inside his shell. “I’m a hybrid, and that’s why I was cast out of my family clan. Kamek, who was averse to the old traditions, raised me all by himself. I wasn’t an easy child. I’m surprised he didn’t throw me away after a few days, just like my parents did.”
“Wow, I didn’t know that,” Mario said quietly. That was all he could think of saying.
“I don’t go around telling everyone my story either, although some people in my kingdom know it. To be honest, I miss them.”
“Your family?”
“No,” Bowser grumbled, as if he’d been insulted. “My minions. My friends. Kamek. Yeah, perhaps my found family. I wonder what they’re doing without their Rock ’n’ Roll King.”
“They’re probably doing just fine,” Mario offered him some hope. In reality, the Mushroom Kingdom was planning an initiative against the troops from the Dark Forest, but Bowser didn’t need to know that. Especially not now. “Maybe you’ll see them again someday.”
“What’s your family like, anyway, aside from Luigi?” It was obvious that Bowser was trying to change the subject.
“My family is pretty normal,” said Mario. “A typical immigrant family that’s proud of its heritage, throws massive family gatherings, and loves to cook Italian food. A mom who loves to fuss over us and always supports us; my dad is a bit more difficult, but not a bad guy either. He worries about us a lot. Then there are two uncles, an aunt, and a niece, and Grandpa, who developed dementia a few years ago. Sometimes he doesn’t recognize us anymore. He needs constant help.”
“That sounds tough.”
“Lu and I hardly notice any of it. The family keeps a lot from us, trying to protect us from pain and suffering. But we pick up on it anyway. After all, we’re family.” Mario looked up at the sky, where the evening was gradually setting in. “My family didn’t always have it easy with me, either. Or with Lu.”
“Has he always been like that?”
“Yes, it started when we were three, I think. I developed relatively normally, but he was always a few steps behind me. My parents took him to various doctors and psychologists, but no one could pinpoint anything specific. He just had a developmental delay. They figured he’d probably outgrow it. Lu didn’t speak for a very long time. He hardly ever expressed himself with gestures either. At one point, people thought he might have a mental disability. Then one day he started talking, just out of the blue. He said ‘Ma,’ and to this day we don’t know if he wanted to say Mama or me. He looked at both of us and smiled. Of course he meant my name, I’m convinced of it, even though Mom always claims the opposite. And eventually we just accepted that Lu was a bit different than most and found ways to deal with it.”
“Your family sounds kind of great,” said Bowser. They were silent for a moment. Then Bowser suddenly said, “I have a son.”
Mario had a lot of questions but didn’t ask a single one. He waited for Bowser to continue, but he didn’t. Mario understood that Bowser didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. He just wanted to have said it. That was a thing people with ADHD did. Sometimes the words came out without serving any purpose other than to be spoken into existence.
Mario went on to tell him about his family, since Bowser had asked him to. He told him about Brooklyn, about his old job, and about how his grandfather had once been a boxer. The stories flowed into one another, not always with a clear connection. The effects of his medication were wearing off: he couldn’t tell how it was showing—according to most people, there was no noticeable difference—but his thoughts were becoming more confused, less coherent. Sometimes he felt like he was just talking nonsense. As if he were in some kind of haze. It exhausted him in the way he was used to.
Bowser grew quieter over time. Eventually, he stopped speaking altogether, merely groaning and letting out the occasional whimper. Even his shell had taken on a grayish tint beneath the pale green. Blood was seeping out from beneath him, but Mario couldn’t do much about it except press the fabric of his cap against it. But he stopped when Bowser screamed in pain. Bowser was so dazed that he didn’t seem to notice that Mario had picked him up and was holding him just tightly enough to offer comfort.
And then something green and pink appeared in the distance. Mario waved to them. Two familiar figures approached him. Luigi immediately jumped to his side and stroked Bowser’s shell spikes. Peach reluctantly prepared the medicine. As she did, Mario noticed that she was occasionally tugging at her dress.
“Okay, come on, Bowser, eat this,” she finally said, holding out the Refreshing Herb to him.
Bowser refused to come out. Luigi took the herb and tried it himself. “Hey, it’ll be fine. This will make you feel better. It doesn’t taste too bitter, either.”
Still no reaction from Bowser. Mario decided to take a chance. He took the Refreshing Herb and leaned down toward Bowser. He whispered, “Imagine this is my nose.”
Bowser came out and bit off a piece of the Refreshing Herb.
“Wow, Mario, what did you tell him?” Luigi asked.
“Oh, just that I’ll make turtle soup out of him if he keeps refusing.” He turned back to Bowser. “You have to eat it all, or it won’t work. Come on, or I’ll start boiling water right now.”
Bowser shot him a sharp look and mouthed the words: ‘I’m gonna bite your mushroom.’
Mario grimaced and shoved the last piece of the Refreshing Herb into Bowser’s mouth. Suddenly, Bowser closed his eyes and went limp. Mario looked up at Peach with concern.
“Don’t worry, that’s a normal side effect. He’ll regenerate while he sleeps.”
Mario breathed a sigh of relief and realized the next moment that Peach and Luigi were staring at him. “I mean, it would make me look pretty bad if I looked after a pet just once and it died on me.”
“Like my potted plant back then?” Luigi asked.
Mario grinned sheepishly. Then they all laughed.
Everyday life returned to the Mushroom Kingdom. But Mario had learned an important lesson: Good and evil were two sides of the same coin and no person stood on one side. They were always the coin.