When I was a kid, I was a HUGE Mario Bros. fan. My son, Tom, had the same trait. So, when he reached fourth grade, he started learning keyboarding. As he left for the school bus, I thought of this one game I had for my computer when I was a kid: Mario Teaches Typing. I went to the computer and looked for a good deal to buy the game. I saw a few links I didn't trust, but then found a cheap deal, and the description the game was in "great condition". I bought it for $15.00 via rush delivery. The next day, I recieved the package, and surprised Tom with it when he came home. With his happy, excited face, he said, "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!". He opened the case, and frowned.
"What's wrong?" I said. He turned the opened case around and showed the disc. It had a bunch of scratches (luckly not on the back). The scratches spelt out three letters: MTD.
We shrugged it off and he rushed to the study to play it. I sat down and watched the sports channel for a while, until my wife came home from teaching. I kissed her on the cheek, and she went to fix dinner (Roasted Chicken, my favorite). When she finished, she went to the study to get Tom.
"Tom, time for dinner hon- Oh my God! Tom!! What are you doing?!"
I bolted from the couch, to the study, to see my wife, holding Tom. But what was behind them, on the wall, was something I've never seen in my life. It was a picture... but it didn't look finished. It was a picture of a smiling face. No, not happy, but demonic. A long horrendous smile, with fang-like teeth, and two scribbled circles for eyes. And with Tom's blood under the two eyes and mouth. Then suddenly, Tom acted like he just woke from a nightmare. He looked at his bloody knuckles, then at the picture, and then at me. He looked scared, confused. He didn't say anything, but his eyes read, Dad, what's going on?
I took Tom to the bathroom to wash off his knuckles. He was quietly sobbing. When I finished, I bandaged them, and we sat down to eat. No one said a word.
The next day, I just got home from the early shift at the office, when I got a call from Tom's school. The secratary said for me to come to the school in the princaple's office, because Tom was acting "very strange and irrational" today. I got in the car, and drove over there. When I got to the office, the princaple sat Tom and I down, in the seats.
"What exactly was Tom doing?" I asked him.
"Well..." He hesitated. "He attacked another student. I immedeatly looked at Tom, with disbelief. "And..." he continued, "He drew, these." He slid over a small stack of looseleaf papers. They all had the same thing. It was the picture from last night. This time, it was finished. This time, it was Mario.
I took Tom home, after the talk with the princaple. I sat him down on the couch.
"Tom, what is going on?" He didn't respond. After a second or two, he dashed into the kitchen, he grabbed a knife from the knife block. He lunged at me, with hatred in his eyes. But before he could end me, I caught his wrist, and forced the knife out his reach. I yelled at him.
"TOM!!! Stop it!!! Stop it!!!"
He then yelled back at me.
"Mario told me to!!!"
I stopped right there. Tom looked at me, with the same realization. We both went to the computer. I booted the game up, and the title screen showed. It showed the normal title screen, but was a liitle more morbid. Everyone but Mario looked terrified. They had cuts all over them. But Mario looked like a serial killer. That horrifying smile and peircing eyes. I looked at the picture on the wall, and I knew. This Mario was a killer. I looked back at the screen. The title sold it. The title read: Mario Teaches Dying. So THATS what MTD meant. The screen cut to black, but instead of getting to the game, it showed a text box. It read: "I'm tired of being your little toy. Sick of it. This business seemed much better than having my life on the line. Did Tom enjoy the lesson? Good. Now it's time for yours."
The screen cut to black again. Tom and I waited. Then for what seemed like forever, the monitor began to shake. And during that, it showed Mario trudging closer to the glass of the screen. I swiftly picked up the monitor and screamed.
"Leave my son alone!!!" and with that, I hurled the monitor to the floor, smashing the glass completly. That did it. It was over. I grabbed my son and hugged him tight. He sobbed loudly. I looked back at the monitor, and said...
"Good ridence..."