Being a king is probably terrible. Sure, the will of the people is a reflection, for better or worse, of your whim; sure, you can claim to be directly descended from the gods and state that your word and law are divine. But most of the time that just spells frumpy. Am I right? After all, when all of your cabinet’s positions are filled with your friends and worthwhile hangers-on, unless you happen to know a fashionista or spirited clotheshorse, you’re stuck with that dowdy robe that’s been in the family for generations and whatever haircut someone can saw off every three months.

That’s why I dig on this dude so much. Check out that split beard! In less sure hands, that’d be a post-paid Static-X ticket to Hot Topic, but his little grin says, “Just fuckin’ with you, dude!” He’s a walking Vice Magazine “Do.” You know he owns a double-necked cherry-red SG, and you know it’s always correctly intonated. And guess what else, babies? He doesn’t even care about pants.

You see how he’s looking at his Mushroom Retainer? If I didn’t get this guy, I’d probably be taking the low road and mouthing off about how coy pederasts in government. But King Cool probably just clowned his buddy, being like “I just don’t see what the big deal with The Fall is,” and when Toad IV or whoever did a double-take and started to cue “How I Wrote ‘Elastic Man’” up on his iRiver, his lord and master just gave that peppy little smile and pointed to his record collection (it’s in the foreground in front of the fourth wall, you can’t see it but you know that shit’s alphabetized). That spotty hat is bowed in shame.

That’s why he’s already smiling when Mario gets him his dinky wand back. That wand’s just going next to Lisa Bonet’s thong on his bedroom floor, guys; he doesn’t even need it.