And because Benson obviously was a Nazi Baby-Eater in a previously life, his day went from worse, to craptastic!
Specifically speaking, the kitchen looked like it had been throwing up all morning.
"What the hell happened in here?"
Benson only had enough time to shower and run down to Mr. Maellard's office to be belittled as a living person so he couldn't actually check up on the house. He could feel the anger swim inside him. Red was spreading across his face and his hands began to clench into fists.
Of course this happens today. Of all days.
The table was knocked over and covered in the breakfast someone had, the walls were covered (as well as the walls) with ketchup and omelet. Broken dishes were sporadically spread all over. The floor also seemed to be a pool of milk and bran cereal. Cabinets were opened and in disarray. Pots and pans left and right. The counters would take forever and a day to get that melted strawberry jam off. The entire room just… Made Benson's head hurt. Perhaps the rotten, greasy banana peel on top of that crap sundae was the missing window above the kitchen sink. Not broken, or shattered. Missing. The glass was gone. Benson had assumed the glass shards would be in the aforementioned sink, but they weren't there.
"Oh my…"
Benson jumped out of his casing and spun around ready to attack. He had been so angry observing the messy kitchen he didn't notice Pops materialize next to him, it seemed.
"Pops! You scared me!" Benson said, heart pounding in his chest.
"My deepest and sincerest apologies, Benson." said Pops, grinning ear to ear. "I just came back from cartwheels and I happened to spot you examining the kitchen in your usual cantankerous manner."
Benson studied Pops. He was wearing his usual black vest and dress pants but in addition donned some knee pads and elbow pads Skips had given him once the old gentleman had taken an interest in tumbling. It came out of nowhere, as most of Pops' hobbies usually do.
"Someone destroyed the kitchen. This place is a mess." Benson muttered, struggling to keep his voice clear and his language clean.
"Yes, a mess it is indeed… Oh! Oh Benson look!" Pops eagerly pointed to something on the kitchen floor. Benson looked in the direction Pops was motioning to and saw a brown box filled with pink stuff, a novel with some blonde chick on it and a video tape. Benson went into the center of the kitchen and picked up the open package.
"What's this?"
Pops walked beside Benson once again, staring down at the package.
"It seems to be a package intended for a lady."
"Then why is it here?"
"I haven't the slightest idea, I'm afraid." Pops scratched his chin, appearing to be in very deep thought. That deep thinking came to a screeching halt when Pops noticed where he was and what was on the floor. "But look at all this neat broken dinnerware!"
Benson ignored Pop's 'ohs'' and 'awes' and went next to the window. He couldn't believe it.
The glass is completely gone. How did those two idiots manage that?
Benson, for a spilt second, thought maybe the house was broken into.
But then he thought better.
Nobody breaks into a house and leaves things behind. Unless criminals are physically dyslexic nowadays. No. This could only be the work of two people.
"Benson? May I have these pretty please?" Benson heard Pops call from a distance.
"Sure Pops, go ahead." Benson answered not even looking at the lollipop man.
"Oh splendid!" And with that Pops pranced off and upstairs to his room.
Benson did not feel like prancing about. He did feel, however, like holding someone underwater until the bubbles stopped coming up. Benson took the open package and threw it into the trash can, then decided to have a little "chitchat" with Mordecai and Rigby over the walkie talkie. Benson started to walk out of the kitchen when a piece of bread landed upon his head.
Benson looked up at the ceiling.
"How the hell did they get peanut butter up there?"
Mordecai was walking back to the house when his walkie talkie buzzed with Rigby's voice.
"Dude! Dude. You're gonna freak, I swear to Bob you're gonna freak!" Rigby's voice fell and rose.
Mordecai wished he was there to see his friend's enthusiasm make his body shake.
"Why am I gonna freak, dude? And who's this Bob you swear to?" Mordecai asked, voice boring.
"Oh man… I saw this add in the paper for like… These classes and… I'm gonna be like Van Helsing dude!"
Mordecai made his way to the park gates and stopped in front. He wondered if his walkie was getting interference or Rigby was just drunk/crazy. Because that sentence didn't make a lick of sense.
"What?"
"It's a government program to kick monster ass! I had to sign this contract and they gave me this… Magic gun thing… And there was a signed poster of Lou Diamond Philips!"
Mordecai came to the deduction that Rigby was high. "Sure dude. How much were these classes?"
"Forty. Two classes each week for six weeks! What a steal~!" Rigby sang.
Mordecai didn't feel like answering with his usual "yeah-a-uhh!", but his curiosity was peeked.
"Forty dollars for the both of us? Does sound like a good deal."
Rigby was silent for a moment, but soon yelled into his walkie,
"I'll be home in a few minutes dude."
And Rigby's walkie went dead. Mordecai gawked down at the walkie talkie, very baffled.
Rigby was a strange little dude. Not that that was news to him. Mordecai put the device back on his hip and didn't even put his right foot in front of his left before a homeless man began to cough violently facing him. He stood up from the curb and stared at Mordecai.
The man was wearing multiple jackets all assorted colors and all of different sizes. A trucker's hat sat lopsided on his head. He had a long, messy off-white beard and Mordecai thought he saw something green growing from it. In his raggedy clothes, the man limped his way toward Mordecai.
"Hello sir." said Mordecai, hoping his uneasiness didn't show in his voice. "Do you need something?"
The man said nothing as he eventually stood in front of him. His hands lifted up and settled on Mordecai's shoulders. His mouth opened and closed.
But no sound came out.
"Sir? Are you sick or something?"
Open. Close. Open. Close.
A majority of the homeless man's teeth were gone and what teeth were left were an icky brown.
"Should I get you an ambulance? Are you okay?" Mordecai asked, a little alarmed.
Open. Close. Open. Close.
His breath smiled of lunchmeat and hot milk.
Mordecai noticed his eyes were squinted, near closed even.
"I'm gonna go. Sorry I don't have any…" Mordecai trailed off when the homeless man closed his mouth and stopped trying to speak. "Goodbye."
Mordecai tried to move but the homeless man held him firmly with his hands.
"Goodbye, sir."
The homeless man didn't let go. That was when Mordecai officially panicked.
"Dude let me go."
Nothing.
"Dude please. Let me go."
No response.
"Let me go!"
Mordecai shoved the homeless man's chest but he had a very strong grip on Mordecai. The homeless man finally opened up eyelids to reveal milky white eyes. His face folded up furiously. Mordecai jerked in every direction as the homeless man yelled in a crazed stupor.
"Turpis lupis! Turpis lupis! Turpis lupis!"
"Help me! Please! Someone! I'm being accosted by a crazy hobo!" Mordecai shouted desperately.
"Turpis lupis! Turpis lupis! Turpis lupis!"
Mordecai fought and kicked against the insane homeless man, getting more and more terrified with each passing minute.
"You're insane! Let me go!"
Mordecai could hear a car quickly approaching. He didn't realize he and the man were standing in the middle of the street at that time. He had to get out of there. But the homeless man clung to him like a boa. Mordecai began to breathe unevenly. He looked around for help. No one. The homeless ,an was still screaming gibberish. The car was getting closer. Mordecai got an idea. It was… Quite frankly in was disgusting. The homeless babbled and ranted. The car was even closer now. He needed to act fast. The homeless man began to shake him back and forth. His vision shook as well, the car speeding up towards him while it moved in all directions. Mordecai then grabbed hold of the homeless man's arms and bit him. The homeless man drew back in pain while he clutched his arm in pain. Mordecai instantly regretted this decision when a strong dirt and mayonnaise taste invaded his mouth. He thought he was better off choosing to get hit by the car, which he totally had forgotten about until it was entirely too late to get out of the way.
Mordecai still thought the "tasting an old, dirty homeless man" thing was still worse.