Level 1 – Luigi helps Mario move a broken futon into his new studio apartment. The fridge whines and the walls are decorated with angry fist holes. The landlord plomps by and lets Mario know there’s a problem with his deposit check. It’s a chicken parm cutlet. Mario readies a fireball in his hand. “Not now,” Luigi whispers.

It has been twenty years since I led them, but I still know them all by name: aiming long rifle guy, grenade lobbing guy, lying flat sniper guy, kneeling bazooka guy, charging bayonet guy and machine gun aimed sideways guy. The sounds of their valor still echo in my dreams. The way they cheered for me, applauded my every decision. After the Great Bedroom War (1986-1987) and the Invasion of Cabbage Patch (Summer, 1988) I installed a suggestion box for my men. It is with great shame that I admit to only looking over these dispatches and communiqués now, almost twenty-five years later. I have failed my brave men, but hopefully their words will inspire and enliven this aging man they once so joyously called Ol’ General Radical.