The Princess in the Distant Castle
Dave WalshThe aging plumber slouched, an artifact from the decades of turtle hopping, mushroom ingesting, and triple jumping, adorned in a bespoke suit. The subtle pinstripes of the suit were only visible to the discerning eye at an intimately close range, something he came to appreciate with age. There before him sat a disinterested Timmy on an old, broken-down couch. Their relationship had existed—much like many of his relationships—for dozens of years, dating back to his childhood and extending deep into the throes of adulthood. Timmy, like many before, had changed. A lot has changed, including the Plumber himself.
"So," Timmy said, breaking the silence.
"So?" the Plumber sheepishly replied.
"You look good."
"Oh," he said, patting his white-gloved
