['Bell, Game, and Candle' is a regular-ish GameSetWatch-exclusive column by writer Alex Litel, discussing stuff that happens - or doesn't happen - in the game business. In this edition, he returns from a three-month hiatus to provide the NSFW first of two exclusive E3 bombshells.]

Firstly, I would like to say welcome to all of the dweebs and non-dweebs who have to be here because their place of employment fired the dweebs.

Also, I would like to tell some jokes.

What is an item on the menu of a hip-hop-themed hot-dog stand? “Kanye Wurst”

What rhetorical question does a runner ask to inspire sympathy? “Have you ever jogged a mile in my shoes?”

I have told these hilarious jokes to dull the temporary nerd boner inversions that you will receive following the announcement I will make.

[Do not proceed until front row of press section reacts.]

Nintendo will be selling its game business to Apple, and go into the pixie dust industry.

So, you'll hear about our upcoming slate of Sam Mendes’ Yellow Lasers, Wii Troubadour: Simon & Garfunkel vs. Mario Bros., Wii Troubadour: Mario vs. Bruce Springsteen, Wii Troubadour: Link vs. Leonard Cohen, Wii Troubadour: Samus vs. Joni Mitchell, Masked & Anonymous: Ness Meets Bob Dylan, Wii Sports: The Movie Game, Woody Guthrie's Dustbowl Donnybrook, Untitled Scott Walker Collaboration, Bob Dylan Circa 1973 as Mario, Give My Regards to Broad Street 2, Luigi’s Studio Apartment in Oceanside, Dr. Mario Gets Sued for Malpractice, and Pit’s First Semester at Brown at Apple's surprise keynote tomorrow.

Anyways, it all started when Iwata was playing Peggle a few months ago, and he called me and said, “Regs, this shit is completely motherfucking crazy. Orgiastic mindfuck. This is like a revelation for me—pretty much a birth of a child on steroids caught with a rainbow substance and a coked-out alien hooker with a moustache hockey mask face in a American motel bathroom.”

Then I asked, “Are you using hallucinogenic substances again?”

Iwata reiterated that his personal reliance on hallucinogenic substances ended during the GameCube era. He also explained that he was alluding to the synopsis of his novel, The Day After Yesterday, which he described as “Yates fathered by Murakami.”

“How do they do this? It’s so magical and ethereal that it’s almost ineffable.” Iwata had expected me to know the answer to his vague question.

“PopCap Games, not to far from us in Seattle,” I answered with a wallop of uncertainty.

Iwata gleefully shouted, “We will go there, Regs, and find out the origins of the amazement!”

So, we to PopCap and Iwata asked his question. Jason Kapalka told us “pixie dust,” which I thought was for sure bullshitting. But the ever-curious Iwata wondered how one could acquire this substance.

And Kapalka said, “Warren Beatty is our dealer. I don’t know where he gets it from, but he has this almost infinite quantity that he uses to make himself appear ten to fourteen years younger.”

Coincidentally, Iwata’s favorite film is Reds, and he claims to have seen it over a hundred times. Yeah, we went down to Los Angeles and met with Warren.

Iwata was fawning and Warren was into it, until Iwata brought up the substance.

And for the next hour or two, Warren reviled and screamed, “I’m naturally fucking beautiful, you fascist pussy sons of bitches! I’m sorry that your manhood is so miniscule that you have to harass the ultimate form with egregious falsities. I’m typically a well-tempered man.”

“It is anything; it is everything,” he eventually admitted.

“I discovered pixie dust in late 1962, and used it as capital for my ascension to Hollywood royalty. If not for the substance, I would have never been able do risky projects like Bonnie & Clyde or Shampoo.”

Iwata was even more curious. “Now that you are retired, what do you do with the pixie dust these days?”

“When did I ever say I retired? I don’t retire, I idle when I cannot find something artistic and substantive. Oh, I mainly sell.”

“Is it profitable?” Iwata queried.

“Certainly, very much so,” Warren replied.

Iwata had another epiphany “Would you be interested in selling all of your pixie dust?”

Warren was concerned and hesitant. “You know that with great power comes great responsibility. There is the potential here for absolute, irreversible entropy.”

I had to butt in. “Can we see this supposedly magical substance? Until I can with my own eyes, this is utterly illusory, and your Spider-Man references won’t change my mind.”

“Regs, don’t be so haughty, negative, and aggressive,” Iwata chided.

Warren also responded. “Stan Lee stole that phrase from a pre-pixie dust version of myself.”

Then, I had a complete about-face, and I realized that the pixie dust was on Warren’s desk. It was then I saw the genius and the quintessential nature of the product—to hide this would be contempt of humanity.

I came to the same conclusion Iwata had—pixie dust is a much larger and more important market than video games ever will be, and Nintendo should exclusively devote its resources to the distribution and manufacturing of pixie dust.

Just looking at the present and past applications of pixie dust, one sees a monumental precedence: Mary Matalin and James Carville’s marriage, Cody ChesnuTT’s debut album The Headphone Masterpiece, the MP3 player, the Nintendo Wii, et cetera, et cetera.

In that spirit, I would like to announce the appointment of Warren Beatty as Chief Creative Officer at Nintendo. He will help not only the company but also the world into a brighter future.

[Warren Beatty comes on stage and reveals pixie dust. Audience looks in awe, forever changed by the presence of the pixie dust.]

I know in the past, we have drawn the ire of the non-retail “enthusiast press”—but I am confident that this time we have won all of you over.

Thank you and good day.

[Daft Punk remix of Fleetwood Mac’s “Don’t Stop” starts playing.]

[Alex Litel can be reached at alexlitel@gmail.com and occasionally found at alexlitel.blogspot.com.]