For once, Mordecai and Rigby had done all of what little there was to do on a Saturday.
They had been paid (whatever Benson had lying around), and had thus far spent the remaining day with their thumbs never ceasing.
In other words, they were playing a video game, and had been for a few hours.
"Dude, this blows!" Rigby whined, throwing his controller onto the floor, "Why can't we get a new game? These ones are all old, and I keep losing for some reason!"
Mordecai, who was not in such a foul mood, just reached down and picked it back up, "Number one, because we don't have enough money for a new one. Number two, you suck at every game you play." He set it back in his friend's paws, "We don't have enough to replace busted controllers, either."
"Well, I'm bored! We've been doing this for too long! Isn't there anything else to do?" He jumped off of the couch and headed to their room.
After shutting down the consol, the jay followed. He, too, was beginning to feel restless, "So, what do you want to do, then?" He peered into the room to see Rigby going through the closet, tossing out anything that he didn't want.
"I'm trying to find something cool to play with!" A dirty shirt hit Mordecai's face.
"Ech!" He yanked it off, "Dude! If you keep doing this, we'll be cleaning this place instead!"
"Aw, yeah!" Rigby danced into sight carrying what looked to be a long piece of rope with fake feathers glued to it, "Mordecai, remember this thing?!"
"Uh, no?"
The raccoon began to wrap it around his own body, "Remember when we were kids and I wanted to be a bird, like you-."
"-And you tied that thing to yourself and jumped off of my roof." Mordecai finished, not amused at the memory.
"Yeah!"
"There is no way I'm letting you try that again, man."
"No! It's not like that!" Rigby leaned down and made a few bow knots, "I upgraded it a while ago! See?" He turned around and revealed a layer of cardstock taped like an airplane along his arms and along his back.
"That's not going to work."
"How do you know, mister 'flies-a-lot'?!" Rigby glared up at him, arms held up in a challenging position.
"Uhm, maybe because I'm an actual bird?" Mordecai reached down, "Now, c'mon, just take it off and we'll find something else to do!"
Rigby dodged him, "What do you mean? I've never even seen you fly!" He looked him over suspiciously, "Can you?"
"I can fly." It was more of a grumble then a fact.
The raccoon ran to the window, pried it open, and gestured out, "Well, then, fly away, Birdie. Be free."
Mordecai eyed the window nervously, "It doesn't work like that, dude. Let's go do something else."
"No, I wanna see you fly." A small smirk mounted on Rigby's snout and he folded his arms stubbornly.
"I don't feel like it."
"When will you, then?"
"Sometime else."
"Spread your wings."
"I don't have any motivation." Mordecai was working on a pretty nasty scowl.
Rigby pulled a can out of Mordecai's desk and threw some of its contents outside, "There's your motivation, dude! There's food out there!"
"What food?"
"Bird seed. You just have to fly down, an-"
"WILL YOU CUT IT OUT?!" The jay reared back his fist and slugged Rigby with a force that matched his irritation.
Only, it didn't end like he had imagined. Shoving someone when they're so close to an open window is never a good idea, especially if that person is off balanced anyway, has fast reflexes and a good grip.
Mordecai went toppling after his friend out of the window, all the way to the ground, where a few bushes had grown.
He stayed still for a moment, feeling for any major injuries. Pretty sure that he had none, he continued to lie there, opening his eyes just a crack.
Rigby was lying on the bush next to the one that had saved him, his eyes open as well and watching him. The arm that had received the blow looked a little crooked, and Mordecai felt a pang of guilt.
After a small intake of breath, Rigby opened his mouth, "Mordecai?"
" . . . .Yeah?"
"You can't fly, can you?"
" . . .No."
Rigby rolled over and stared, "Why not? Are you afraid?" Then, after a second, "You LIED to me!"
"Dude," Mordecai crawled out of the bush and brushed himself off, "I was clipped."
"Ooohhhh . . ." He struggled to get up, "Sorry about that, man. That really must suck."
"Eh, it's ok." He watched his friend try to break free of the bush with one arm, "You need a little help?"
"Nah, I'm fine. You know me, expert survivalist! I am a raccoon after all!"
"Ok, then." He headed inside to get a nap; the whole ordeal had exhausted him.
Rigby watched through panicked eyes, 'Yep! I'll catch up with you!"
The 'expert survivalist' remained there until he was needed by someone who was willing to help him out.
But, of course, that was a while.
