For 35 years, Mario has been an international sensation, and for good reason. However, many people refuse to admit that Mario looks delicious and would make an exquisite main course. Personally, I would love nothing more than to coat him in a honey glaze and roast him over a fire until his internal temperature is 145 degrees. Recently, my family has fallen on hard times (I drank a Bang energy at work and it got me so hyper that I called my boss a yo-yo, and now I’m too embarrassed to show up again).

I’ve been trying to catch the little goblin so we don’t go hungry, but given how prone he is to stripping down and secreting a thick oil when threatened, it hasn’t been easy. Here are four times when my plans for a delicious roast were ruined because Mario’s oiled and nude body slipped from my grasp.

My 10th Wedding Anniversary

Fellas, you may think you’ve been in the doghouse before, but I guarantee that you haven’t felt the full extent of your wife’s scorn until you promised her a plump and juicy roasted Mario, but failed to deliver. She kept screaming, “I don’t care about Mario, I just want you to get a job!” but I knew it was her way of masking her disappointment in my not catching him. I have no idea how good Mario is at plumbing, but if he’s half as good at it as he is at avoiding being eaten by me and my family, his business must be booming.

My Daughter’s 8th Birthday

My little girl wanted a cake, some dinosaur toys, and a party. Obviously without a job, none of that was possible, but I figured she’d appreciate a beautiful cut of Mario flank steak instead. Tracking Mario is actually very easy because he continuously shouts, “It’s a-me, Mario!” which I consider a dead giveaway. However, catching him, tying him to a stick, and spinning him around an open flame is a whole other story.

Luckily, my wife’s personal trainer, Jeremy, stepped in and took care of the entire party. He’s such a good guy. He actually stayed so late that my wife asked if he wanted to spend the night, and he agreed! I slept on the couch and let him have my side of the bed to be a good host.

The Night My Former Boss Came to My House for Dinner

My wife, God love her, invited my ex-boss to dinner, thinking that a home-cooked meal, some laughs, and a heartfelt apology from yours truly would have resulted in me getting my job back. Unfortunately, when I greeted him, covered in the foul-smelling oily residue that Mario had stained my clothes with, I knew my chances of resuming my career were slim.

The nail in the coffin was when I accidentally called him a yo-yo a second time. Before the hunt, I fueled up with a Bang Energy (think you can catch Mario without one? Good luck) and, once again, I got too hyper. Jeremy, who’d been spending a lot of time around the house, actually offered to help me get a job at his gym, but I turned him down. A job would only distract me from catching Mario once and for all.

My Wife and Jeremy’s Wedding (Sorry, Ex-Wife, I Keep Forgetting)

Of all the times the red menace (I dare not speak his name any longer) foiled my plans with his slippery evasiveness, this one hurt the most. I could tell Jeremy felt badly about marrying my wife, no matter how many times I told him it didn’t matter to me, so long as he and I could stay friends. I thought that the perfect way to show those two crazy kids that I approved of their union was to present them with the wicked plumber so they could dine on him in matrimonial bliss.

I spent the whole day trying (and failing) to catch him, and missed the wedding, which was a real bummer because I wrote a whole speech about how happy I was that if someone had to marry my wife and pursue legal action to get full custody of my daughter, I was glad it was Jeremy. Seems that plumber is harder to find than my wedding invitation, which I guess was lost in the mail!

Anyway, I hope they’ll be as happy as I’m going to be when I finally catch that mustachioed fuck, which will be any day now.

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