Hey, I wanted to thank you again for inviting me over Friday night. I had a pretty stressful week, so takeout and Mario Kart were just what I needed.
However… I’m gonna be honest with you because I think you need to hear it.
If you can’t beat Rainbow Road, don’t bother texting me back.
You’re a great guy, don’t get me wrong. You always avoid the banana peels and never activate your blue shell when I’m in first place, but you’ve come in second-to-last place nearly every time. And I don’t want to keep harping on the past, but there were a few times when you couldn’t even finish the race.
I know it’s Rainbow Road, ultimately the toughest race in Mario Kart history, with its lack of bumpers to keep you on the track, its nearly-impossible-to-navigate twists and turns, and of course, its constant ebbing and flowing of the road itself, but you’ve got to pull yourself together.
It’s the last race in the Special Cup, not the Average Cup. And quite frankly, I wouldn’t even call your racing skills “average.” It’s mind-boggling since you own the game, but you’re playing like you’ve never even passed Mario Circuit 1.
I’m not gonna sugar coat it: I beat Rainbow Road when I was 9. I didn’t even know my phone number when I was 9, but that didn’t stop me from winning the game’s most difficult race, according to Mario Kart’s Wiki. I mean, you’re a doctor for God’s sake. You’re telling me you can effortlessly remove a child’s tonsils, but you can’t successively maneuver a cartoon on a motorcycle?
My parents would be thrilled if I told them I was dating a doctor, but they may have some issues inviting you to Thanksgiving once I tell them I lapped you twice as Peach.
Don’t get me wrong; Peach is an excellent competitor, but she’s no match for Mario (which, by the way, I don’t know who you think you are choosing Mario. Quite frankly, you lack the skill and gumption it takes to be Mario. You’ve soiled his name; turned him into a joke).
I’m up for a rematch, but I have to be blunt: Rainbow Road isn’t something you just conquer overnight. Or in your case, any night.
I want to say I believe in you, but after three hours of watching you fly off the course like a drunk Waluigi, I can’t say I have much hope left.
Let’s face it, you’ll never be Mario. You’ll always be Peach.