A least she isn’t asking for rings, or coins, or rupees.
Things start off awkwardly enough most of the time.
You’re pining for the affection of the love of your life,
tripping over your sword to see her happy.
Meanwhile she’s embedded you securely in the friend zone,
at the same time dating monstrous guys
with way too many needles or spikes
in their backs to be anything but bad company.
And of course you have to pick up the pieces when she
ends it, because inevitably, Mr. Turtle shell
will go all ape-crazy insane and
take her away to a private lair,
because there caged ex’s can’t reject you.
She sends a note at about the time you start to
wonder whether she eloped with this ugly fellow.
It always reads the same:
I’m sorry, ‘Insert hero’s name,’
I may have pulled a princess once more.
I hope you’ve been bored,
because this story is going to take
at least a week of gameplay.
But like I said, I apologize,
I up and got myself stolen away.
I guess Ray Ray or
whatever the bad guys name is
still hasn’t matured,
and to think I gave him a
second (or third), chance.
I was playing dress up,
like you know I’m into sometimes,
since I’ve always wondered
what it feels Iike to be a guy,
but as I was strutting around
with a walk that suggested a
jock cup between my legs,
a bag was slipped over my head and I
woke up here.
I think I’m in a palace;
I mean, it’s regal enough but there are
lots of trap doors and puzzle pieces
littering the pixelated grounds.
I want you to come find me,
even if it means breaking and entering
into the homes of all the royalty in the land
and sandwiching them between
your sword handle and the ground
or blowing up their castles.
The walls are richer than I’m used to,
with hues I’ve never before seen and
weaves that are really intricate.
It must be that 256 bit living that I’ve heard about.
Be careful, because here I can see the teeth
on even the tiniest creatures and
even in this virtual world
it looks like you can still lose health.
Remember, you once said you would
catch me the jeweled tears of the moon,
maybe blue from a relationship turned cheesy,
but would you follow monsters
through the sewage system,
squeezing through electric green
plumbing tubes to save me?
I’m not saying that’s the only
route to my freedom,
but it’s probably the fastest,
and comes with its own
soundtrack to keep you motivated.
While you’re at it, would you compose
me a song that will be played for
years to come by orchestras and
nerdy gamers who have fallen
in love with the melody of background noise?
Would you wear a mask that
makes you look like a sumo wrestler
who lost a match with self-tanner?
And when you do come to my rescue,
will you bring me a really obscure item
like a golden lotus crocus or map
of tinseltown to prove you really care?
My last boyfriend did it, I’m just sayin.
That’s how the letter always ends,
with her perfect boyfriend.
And you think to yourself,
‘maybe if I can be a little more like him,
and strut into the temple of evil,
and face whatever demons are keeping her hostage,
I can emerge with a print of lipstick on my cheek.”
But you will have no bombs, no arrows,
not even sticks to fight him with.
You’ll be walking empty handed
into the battle of your life with not even a
fairy in a bottle should your clock strike 0% health,
like trying to rob a comedy show
and demanding “no funny business!”
But maybe you’ll emerge victorious.
And then life will be all
sunshine and rainbows and perhaps
horseshoes but not the stale and crunchy
new marshmallows that you find
in leprechaun cereal.
Maybe you’ll even get a kiss, and things
will be blissfully peaceful for a while.
Until the next sequel is released.