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Mario stood there, with his filthy furry foot placed firmly on Alli's chest—she was trapped. Grinning inanely, he took a cigarette out of his pocket, put it in his mouth and lit it. Alli, gasping for breath, still managed to sass him about it, something about smoking being a filthy habit. Mario blew smoke in her face.
"Hahahaha!!!" he laughed evilly. "You'll just have to cope."
"I thought smoking would be dangerous for a wolf" she said. "It would be most exciting to see your fur catch on fire." At this suggestion, Mario snarled. He looked quite intimidating, and at the same time ridiculous. The short, fat, moustachiod, dribbling, wolvish plumber was pulling off quite the look.
"Bloody teenagers" he growled, and stubbed out his cigarette on Alli's shoulder.
"Why the hell do you want me, you horrible creature!" Alli yelled. Mario was crouching over her now, preparing to kill.
"Because I'm a wolf, of course!" he cackled. "And marvellous fun it is too. So marvellous, that I would like to stay a wolf. I can kill people with these razor-sharp fangs now! Do you have any idea how much better that is than having to jump on people's backs, or shooting little gold coins at them from an indiscernible location?"
"Yea, I did wonder where they came from. How many coins can you stuff..."
"SILENCE!!!"
"Whatever. Your powers suck, your clothes suck, and you suck even more!"
Mario stood stewing. "You know the tastiest meal, my dear? Seer."
Alli's eyes widened. If the wolf's weight weren't on her body she would have liked to scream a good old-fashioned 'NOOOOOOOOOOO', but she couldn't. All she could do was await her doom.
Or her inevitable rescue. Because sure enough, in classic Hollywood style, the figure of Aimé appeared in the corridor.
"I love you, Alli" he cried (somewhat redundantly). "And now" turning to Mario, "it is time to perform my duty."
Aimé charged at the wolf, and great was the clash of their meeting. To and fro they raged, but the cool-headed Aimé was never in real trouble: he had a weapon, a sword strong and true. The foul wolf had nothing but his teeth, claws and lighter. In less than one moment, Mario had lost a leg, and lay bleeding on the deck.
Stooping over him, Aimé grinned victoriously. "Your bloody and painful end is a delight to me, foul Mario. And just so you know..." The wolf looked up in misery. "Peach was never faithful. There've been a lot of other guys, Mario. Trust me, I know for sure." The wolf looked up with such hatred it made Aimé blink in surprise. He really loved her, he thought. Ah, so be it.
He stabbed the wolf through the heart, causing him to howl a forlorn howl. And then he was silent. Mario was dead. Aimé just looked over at Alli, splattered in blood, and flashed her a joyous smile.
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