MASCOTS GONE WILD

Luigi Quits ‘Mario Brothers’

The videogame icon is tired of Mario’s shit

By the time Luigi’s Range Rover pulls into the empty parking lot, he’s thirty minutes late. He parks beside my sedan and kills the engine. His SUV is green, naturally.

The sky rumbles, shaking my windows. The first raindrops splatter the windshield, tracing a path through the fogged glass, running like tears. It bounces and sizzles on the Range Rover’s hood. He opens the door, a familiar silhouette in the gathering dark. Face turned up to greet the rain.

There is a rush of sound as he opens the passenger door. He grunts, muttering in Italian as he yanks the door closed.

We sit in suffocating silence.

The collar of his trench coat is turned up and his fedora is pulled low and between is just the faintest hint of his famous mustache. He watches the rain strike the windows. “I was happy to be a plumber. Did you know that?”

I lean forward and flick on the recorder.

“How could you? That was long ago, before Miyamoto. Before Nintendo. My brother, he no like plumbing so much. Thought it was beneath us.”

I let him talk. My editor once said a good reporter is like a priest.

He sighs heavily. “Was it fun, snaking out the drain of a toilet clogged by some guy’s massive shits? No. Of course not. I no like going home every night with the smell still on me. But there was a nobility to our work. Helping people. There is nothing quite so rewarding. It is better than all the fame.”

“Your brother — he disagrees?”

He glances at me, eyes narrowed. “Why’s it always about Mario? Mario this and a-Mario that. I’m a-Luigi. Number one.” He thumps his chest, scattering drops of rain around the car’s interior.

“Of course. But his name is on all the games.”

Luigi scoffs. “Mario Brothers. When he suggest this to me, I tell him, this is a dumb idea. It should be Cazzaniga Brothers.”

“Cazzaniga? That’s your family name?” It somehow never occurred to me that the famous Italian plumbers turned videogame barons would even have such a thing; it’d be like discovering Jesus’ last name was Smith.

“Si.” A faint smile touches his lips. “Been a long time since I’ve even heard my own family’s name. Reminds me of good joke — Cazzaniga? Che nome lungo.”

“Pardon?”

“Our name, close translation is ‘black dick’. Punchline of joke is: ‘what a long name’.”

His laughter turns bitter. “I say to Mario, Black Dick Brothers sounds like hilarious game. I would play. Beside, only Italians in on the joke. But Mario, he no like that idea. Says kids will be playing. Not appropriate. I tell him, we will not whip out our dicks and beat the Koopas with them. But he no listen.”

He fumbles out a pack of cigarettes. The sudden flare of his lighter reflects in his dark, expressive eyes. He draws a shaky breath and exhales smoke.

I crack the window.

“He goes to Miyamoto behind my back. Signs contract. This is why his name on all the games. This is why his face everywhere.” Luigi points at me with the glowing end of his cigarette. “It’s a-why we Mario Brothers. Not Cazzaniga. Not Mario and Luigi. Mario Brothers. Is his name Mario Mario? No. It make no sense. I tell him. He no listen. He have stars in his eyes.”

“Why didn’t you leave? Why work on his games at all?”

“We brothers. That means something. When we plumbers, our motto was: ‘Mario and Luigi: We Handle Your Shit’. Always was Mario and Luigi. I guess I thought if I was patient, maybe it would be again.

“Miyamoto and Mario tried to appease me over the years. Give me my own series: Luigi’s Mansion. I say okay. Give it a try. But the mansion is shitty, si? Falling apart. And ghosts everywhere. Did they mention to Luigi that mansion was haunted? No. If there’s a-one thing Luigi hates more than anchovy on pizza, it’s ghosts. Mario know this, of course. Think it good joke.”

He flicks his cigarette out into the rain. “I realize that nothing will ever change. So I walk away. Next Nintendo game will be Mario Brother. Or maybe just Mario. Is what they should have been called anyway.”

The rush of rain deepens as he opens the door.

“Will you go back to plumbing?”

“No. Laying pipe every day is a young man’s game.”

“What then?”

He smiles, genuinely, eyes crinkling. “I find many ladies online like my name. Cazzaniga. I have many many dates.”

Eric writes about pop culture here at Medium and also likes to imagine the secret lives of videogame characters. If you’d like to see what other madness he’s working on, check out his newsletter.

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