Allow me to understand, my young apprentice. Because your girlfriend here kicks your ass at Super Smash Brothers Melee, and has henceforth embroiled you in a dispute with the reigning campus champion, you have come to train with me, the Jedi Smash master, is it? Both of you? Hmm.

Very well then. I shall teach you both the art of the melee, so that you have a chance against Jake this weekend. Pick up your controllers, and I shall pick up mine. First off, you must always grab the electric sword. This is the weapon of a true Super Smash Brother. Not as clumsy or as random as turnips or bombs. An elegant weapon for a more civilized time, before that monster Jake came along and started playing as a cheap-ass Donkey Kong.

Let us begin your melee training. I see that your girlfriend is playing as the Princess, it's very quaint. First, we begin with what I call the "smash" attack, where you tap your control stick OWWW! Tell her to stop hitting me.

As I was saying, my young Padawan, feel the melee flowing through you as you OOOWWW she HIT me with a FRYING PAN! Where the hell did she get a frying pan? Okay, so that's how it's gonna be hunh? Listen up, young princess, you don't want to be here when a Jedi Luigi brings on the smack, and let me tell you, NOW the gloves are off. Take that -- hey -- STOP THROWING TURNIPS!

Fine then, I'll just have to feel my hatred. I may be at 140% damage, young Princess, but if you strike me down I will become more powerful th-- OOWWWW! You struck me down! Jerk.

Forget the Jedi training. I feel bad for Jake. Your chick is a one-woman clone army.