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7/1/2005 3:31:44 AM

The Odyssey Of Cappy

The Odyssey of Cappy 2.0 Intro. When I was a wee lad, I wrote a story about what goes on with my brother after the door closes and the lights turn out. I recently dug it out, and thought it was good. It’s from his point of few, you see. I have updated this tale a bit. I hope all are presently sitting. This one’s a doozy. A cold rains pours from the sky and onto my battered old brown trench coat. It was actually my father’s dress coat, but it served as a fine trench coat for me. Today was a dismal night in Chicago. Just like every other day here. Exhaust, mixed with the smoke of popgun ( 1.99. A -blam!- bargain at my wages) made for quite a stifling environment. I had taken a shaky lead on how to beat Metriod Prime. It, like most episodes of Lost left me with even more questions than I had started with. Unlike Lost, I was not anticipating the next episode. I needed to clear my head and get some answers. Fortunately, I knew how to solve one of my problems. I took the long route to Marios Bar. After making sure no one was looking (my mom would kill me if she knew I hung out here) I entered the small, less-than-friendly little watering hole. Upon entering the bar I started to choke. The air was think with smoke (actually, I think one guy was lighting and blowing out matches, but who will ever know). I took a drag on my “health tube*. Inhailer for you “commoners”. When I had finished my fit, I looked up and greeted Mario. He retured the gesture with usual spout of French profanities and nonsensical words, followed by “Waddya have?!” in a thick Italian accent. I asked for the usual. Whenever I ask for the usual, Mario would throw together some random array of fruits and juices (it was a juice bar, afterall) and call it an “Oprah” after the popular television host. After handing me today’s “Oprah” ( two shots of apple, two shots of grape, and some pineapple slices) he asked me “Whatsa on your mind?” Should I tell him? Should I really be truthful with this crazy old guy? I decided I would be. Maybe he had been a video game god at one point in his weird life. This poor old man was one of my last hopes. I had really hit rock bottom. I started at the beginning. Well, the beginning of all relevant events, anyways. How, after I had totally rocked Prince of Persia, I would pilot my skills to fame. I would beat Metroid Prime on the hardest level there is. “Hard” Within.Mario’s mouth dropped open, though I’m pretty sure it wasn’t from the story. Mario had lost the use of his mouth in a war, or brawl, or gardening accident. Mario could never keep his stories straight. At any rate, he was still looking at me. I continued. After hours of thumb-bruising gameplay, I got to the final boss. The Metroid Prime. I went at it, but failed. And failed again. I tried the boss so many times. Then I got tip from an informant who I will not name. My hopes soared, only to be dashed down. The tip had gone no where and I was out of ideas. Out of time. Was it because I was not good enough? Had my victory with Prince of Persia made my cocky so I didn’t practice? Or was it a conspiracy much deeper than I could ever realize? Possibly one involving the entire Nintendo Corporation? “What cha think Mario?” I said finishing up my tale. “GET OUT” came the familiar slurred voice from behind the counter. A -blam!- of a cork shotgun brought me back. My “old pal” Mario was in on this too. Fortunately, I was the suspicious type. I had come armed.“Think you’re fast enough, old timer? I said “Whaddaya mean?” asked Mario as his eye twitches. With reflexes of a computer nerd avoiding cooties, I dove down near my seat, causing Mario to fire off his gun, shattering a mirror behind me. Before Mario could get another cork into the barrel of the gun I was up, Power Clips blazing. I was well trained with a gun, thanks to Half-Life. Before I knew what was what, Mario lay, dart covered, behind the counter. I was surprised at my reaction, Had I really done that to man? “Had to be done. No other choice” I told myself, though I still wasn’t sure. Mario was dead, and nothing could bring him back, except re-spawning from his last checkpoint. I disengaged both clips, causing them to both drop to the ground, and left the bar, back into the smokey Chicago air. Suddenly, everything came together. I went home and fought the boss one last time. Sure enough, I beat the crap outta him. He died. I can’t explain how I knew he would, but I just knew (actually, I kinda guessed, but still). Maybe is was just one of those things. The point it that I totally finished Metriod Prime, and nothing could take that from me. The next day I woke up. Nothing had changed? Was this it? Was this all I got for beating the Metriod Prime?! At that very moment I realized something: “I play a lot of video games”. Then all those thoughts disappeared. I began to play Time Splitters
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