Written by Buck Tick
It's day seven since the rise of the dragon. The world is full of tainted and abused, the dead and dying, the lost and forgotten. These wandering fall into the cracks of the earth and spiral downwards to the promise of the burning core, forever.
The wind is dangerously heated- like unexpectedly hot air that rolls into the room after opening a hot oven. This wind scortches the trees and kills the grass. It kills the birds. It causes the slow-moving snails to melt like snowmen.
Inhailing the warmth of the sky, the black dragon slips out from the darkness of space for a moment to breathe his gift of fire across the green world and those blessed to live on it. He lets out a thrilling cry, one which would burst wine glasses or shatter the eardrums of small children. But some are waiting out this terror in their homes, or work-places, passing the blame on one another as if it were a game of hot potato.
Singing a lully-lullaby, Pops wanders from wall to wall of the house, stopping and turning on his heels to go to the next wall, and repeating- like a rat in a maze. He sings and hums and laughs spontaniously, his lips bleeding horribly in each corner from being stretched so hard into a smile. Pretending so hard that every thing will be all right. In his hands he holds a page from a certain book from a certain storybook. He crumbles and folds and straightens out and uncrumbles the paper, laughing in the silence of the house, turning around at each wall. Stumbling, sobbing, barely sane.
From the safety of a tree, a bird flies, dies, and falls to the earth before Rigby's paws. The racoon looks down at it, his stomach queasy with dread. He tries to think of a logical reason to how they- he and his friend, the blue jay, have caused the ending of the world. But all he can think to say, turning his head to look Mordecai in his large, equally anxious eyes, is "uh oh."
With a mouth full of gleaming teeth, the black dragon glides along the edge of the galaxy; below him swims the Robin's egg-blue sky, followed by the grass and the soil of the earth, while above him the stars shiver and twinkle against the abyssal-black space of nothing.
"What did you do?!" shouts Benson over the chaos, his hands clamped tightly over his glass-orb head, fearing it may shatter.
Mordecai looks towards their boss, the gumball machine, and cringes inwardly. "Look," he calls over as the other comes closer. "It isn't our fault."
"Yeah. It was Skip." says Rigby. "He's the one that let us borrow the book..."
"No!" snaps Benson. He steps up to Rigby and jabs a finger into his chest. "You two morons are the reason there's-" he flings his pointing finger to the enourmous rip across the sky, "a rip in the sky!" he finishes.
"Dude!" shouts Mordecai, stepping forward with open wings. He shoves Benson away. "Step off."
"Step off?" repeats Benson breathlessly. He blinks once, twice. "Are you serious?" His voice lowers into a tone of hopelessness. "Yes...maybe I should just step back and let you two destory the world...It's what you've always wanted... Isn't it? It's why you two signed up for this job..." Benson turns and stops short, facing Skips as he skips over.
"Hey, that's not true!" yells Mordecai.
"Yeah!" says Ribgy. "We've fought for this park before, that should be enough proof for ya!"
"You can't blame us for everything just because you're too much of a coward to take the blame yourself!" taunts Mordecai fiercely.
Benson whirls around and raises a closed hand to punch the blue ray across the face.
"Don't give into the darkness." says Skips hoarsely.
Benson flinches and turns to the yeti.
Mordecai takes a step back, looking emotionally wounded. "Dude, he was seriously gonna smack the buh-jeezus out of you!" whispers Rigby to him.
"That's what the dragon wants you to do." explains Skips to Benson. "It spreads darkness."
"Look at this mess!" says Benson helplessly, finding no other way to express himself.
"Mordecai and Ribdy didn't cause this." says Skips firmly.
"Yeah," says Rigby. "It was that stupid book of dragons you loaned us.
"That's part of it." agrees Skips. He turns fully to Benson. "But the one who summoned the dragon from hell, is you, Benson."
._._._.
One week earlier...
(To Rammstein: Good luck.)