It sat dormant in its glass prison under the light of the moon. The gentle rays caused tender reactions in its fleshy roots. It was a good feeling. It was a feeling of growth and nurturing. Its innocent mind was just forming, bonding with its previous conscious while crafting a new one. It could hear the soft sounds of another creature sleeping nearby. It could not see, but its other fine senses painted a map of its surroundings.

Back in his room Rigby slept soundly in the early hours of the day. The comfortable arm of his blue friend had once again found itself lightly propped up against his back. In his sleep he was surrounded by warmth. He felt the gentle pulse of his friend's heartbeat and it warped the auburn walls of his dream.

The creature sensed Rigby's organic reaction to the touch and it parroted his feelings. It removed a few of its roots from the nutrient-rich base of the terrarium and pressed them against the glass wall of its prison.

Skips awoke at the queer sound and got out of his bed to investigate the source of it. He clicked on the light and observed the little creature trying to escape its cell. This concerned him. He knew that in its current state it was relatively harmless. However, he also knew that it had the capacity to become the enormous monster that they had previously battled. When he got close, it buried its appendages back into the soil and returned to its original position. Something about its movements seemed embarrassed.

Across town, Margaret was fumbling through her purse for her keys. She was distressed and drunk. In the darkness the moths and other insects would have gone unnoticed, but the streetlight made their erratic flight paths all too visible. She heard her phone buzz and winced at the name that appeared on its display. The streetlight flickered into darkness momentarily. Its mechanisms were malfunctioning from the humidity.

She watched the phone ring and waited for it to stop. The display grew more and more warped as small droplets landed on it. They magnified its pixels in bubble shapes. She dropped the phone back into her bag and went back to looking for her keys.

SATURDAY AUGUST 6th

Mordecai awoke to the usual sounds of the house. He could hear a lawn mower buzzing loudly through the open window. It was unbelievable warm under his covers. He looked down to his left at Rigby's empty bed. He could hear the shower running a few doors down. He didn't feel particularly well rested but he knew that he had to wake up. As he got up he felt soreness all over. He took a few uncomfortable steps toward the door and heard an unfamiliar sound. Rigby was singing a little tune. It was some mainstream pop song that Mordecai didn't particularly care for, but Rigby was on key and Mordecai thought it very amusing.

Mordecai made his way to the bathroom door and listened closely with a sly grin on his face. As the chorus came back in he sang the back up harmony loud enough for Rigby to hear. Rigby stopped singing as the door burst open and Mordecai belted out in song.

"Dude, get out!" commanded the little raccoon.

"Chill man. I hope I didn't interrupt your 'special moment.' I'm just brushing my teeth," replied the blue jay in a mocking tone.

"I'm in here man! Privacy?" barked Rigby.

"'Privacy?' Dude you're naked all the time," Mordecai slurred. The toothbrush in his mouth muffled his words. "You act like I've never seen you in the buff before."

"This is different, I'm cleaning myself! Just get out, please." Rigby was getting sick of this.

Benson stomped his way up the stairs and into the bathroom where the two friends were bickering. "Rigby are you in there? I need to talk to you after your done."

Rigby was gritting his teeth. He grabbed a towel off the rack and turned off the faucet. The air was hotter than the water had been, but his fur didn't dry quickly. It was a muggy hot day and the double assault on his private time had killed his good mood. Rigby shot an angry glance at his friend as he took his pinky in the towel and dried out one of his ears.

Benson motioned the drenched raccoon to follow and led him out into the hallway. Mordecai was left finishing his oral chores while Benson began his important discussion with his insubordinate employee. "Okay Rigby. Now I know you guys have been through a tough ordeal this week, and I respect that, but I still expect you two to get all of your work done."

"Yeah man I got it," said Rigby, starting on his other ear.

"I mean it. If I catch you two slacking off I'm not gonna cut YOU any slack," replied the ornery gumball machine.

"Dude chill, we'll be fine," replied Rigby. He didn't have the energy to mouth off to his employer.

"And another thing, it's my understanding that Mordecai is still in pretty rough shape, so I expect you to help him out if he starts to drag behind," added Benson.

Rigby threw his hands up in distaste and attempted a rebuttal, but Benson stopped him. "Not another word."

Mordecai carefully removed the day-old bandage from the wound on his back. He grimaced at the sight of his unattractive scar and reapplied a clean gauss to the cut. He held both sides of the long cloth and realized that he wouldn't be able to tape it back on without the help of another. "Hey, can someone help tape me up?" he asked aloud.

Benson took the strips of medical tape and applied them to the gauss. He patted Mordecai on the shoulder before sending him on his way.

Mordecai and Rigby yawned and squinted at the hanging sun. Behind them, they heard Benson yell, "Where are all the damn glasses?" from the kitchen. They silently decided to distance themselves from the house. When they passed in front of Skips' house, he appeared in the doorway. "Hey fellas, c'mere. I wanna show you something."

They entered the yeti's odd little hut and were, as usual, dazzled by its retro décor. There was a bench press, a few Led Zeppelin posters and some new age spiritual gizmos and artifacts. There was also a rectangular terrarium covered by a dirty old towel. Skips grabbed the towel and yanked it, revealing the young creature he had planted a few nights before. The two friends let out a long "whoa" in unison, and Rigby quickly scrambled to get a closer look.

"So what," Mordecai snickered, "is that thing supposed to be Rigby's baby or whatever? It looks just like him."

Rigby turned around for a moment and glared, but didn't let the comment ruin his curiosity. He stared at it with wide-eyed fascination as it squirmed and shifted in its prison. He poked the glass playfully with his finger.

"Rigby don't tease it," Skips commanded. The three stared at it respectfully for a few minutes. Mordecai broke the silence with another sarcastic remark aimed at Rigby.

"Yep, I definitely see the resemblance. No, wait, I smell the resemblance too." Mordecai laughed at his own joke. Rigby turned and screamed "Shut up!" but as he did, he heard something slam against the glass. All three of them jumped at the noise and looked back. The creature had thrown itself against the side of its prison. Rigby backed away in fear, and as he did so did the creature.

"What the heck was that?" asked a paralyzed Mordecai. Rigby watched in horror as the slimy creature copied his movements. He raised his arms above his head, and it tore some of its roots out to mimic him. He brought them down to his sides and it did the same. His feelings of horror quickly gave to feelings of amusement and once again, fascination. He went through the motions of dancing, playing the air guitar, spinning in place and eventually pelvic thrusts. Then, he doubled over in laughter on the ground. It did the same.

"Dude that isn't funny, it's freakin twisted," shouted Mordecai, trying to make himself heard over Rigby's joyous cackles.

"Dude," Rigby began, struggling to overcome his own boisterous laughter. "Did you… did you see it humping? It was humping!" Rigby slowly sat up and wiped a tear from his eye with his whole fist. His giddiness was heavily contrasted by Mordecai's disgust and mild terror.

"Alright, that's enough you two," Skips said covering the terrarium once more with the dirty towel. "You guys have a lot of work to do today. Hop to it."

Skips could hear them bickering even after he closed his front door. After they were out of earshot, he lifted the towel once more and eyed the creature.

Mordecai struggled to cope with what he had seen. He couldn't understand why it disturbed him so much, but what bothered him more was Rigby's obvious lack of visual empathy. Rigby continued gushing over the infant creature and how cool he thought it was. Mordecai shoved Rigby in an attempt to interrupt his rant, so in return Rigby shoved back. Mordecai's leg buckled and he fell to the ground in pain. His body hadn't yet recovered from Monday's incident, and the blow definitely caught him off guard. He groaned in pain as Rigby scampered to his side.

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry man, here, let me help you up," Rigby yelled, trying to get Mordecai on his feet. He was too heavy. Mordecai gave a heavy sigh and brought himself up using his wings.

"Dude, forget it, it's fine," Mordecai said, recovering from the pain. His voice was without a tinge of malice. He wasn't used to being this weak, and he thought back on all the times he had knocked Rigby over without apologizing.

Rigby noticed that Mordecai's bandage had become crinkled in the fall and was peeling off of his body. In an attempt to reconcile, he stood on his toes and straightened the gauze and medical tape. Mordecai let his friend go about it, though he didn't really trust Rigby's handiwork. Rigby was clumsy.

They walked down the path and reacquainted themselves with the park's many features. Its grass was as green as ever, though a bit yellowed from lack of rain, and its many trees were as identical to each other as they remembered them. A shed appeared at the end of the path, and Mordecai twisted its padlock until it snapped open. Inside, they found all kinds of familiar equipment.

Rigby grabbed a pair of hedge clippers from off its hook on the wall. He grinned an awful grin and stared into its blades.

"You know you're not supposed to touch those," Mordecai lectured as he looked through the drawers of a red metal toolbox. "Besides, we aren't doing the shrubs today. Here, help me find the flathead."

"The screwdriver? That's in our room. We used it last week to get that tape out of the VCR, remember," Rigby asked, keeping his eyes on the clippers he held in his hands. He gave them a good squeeze and listened to the blades slide against each other. He chuckled when they finally came together.

"Crap, we need those," Mordecai groaned. "Rigby, would you mind going back to the house and getting them?" In his mind, he hoped that Rigby wouldn't resort to letting rock paper scissors decide whether he would or not. Even if he thought real hard about throwing rock, Mordecai habitually threw paper, and Rigby was carrying an awfully large pair of scissors.

Rigby was still feeling some guilt from knocking Mordecai over. He dropped the shears, gave a nod and strolled out of the shed, leaving the door open behind him.

Mordecai bent over and picked up the discarded tool. He brought it to its hook and as he hung it up, he noticed a dusty old photograph clinging to the wall behind an old wooden shelf. He reached behind the shelf, picked it up and brushed off the yellow old filth that had taken to it over the years. His eyes widened at the sight of the nostalgic image.

JULY 4th, 1987

Mr. Maelard readied his outdated camera and shouted, "Places everyone!" It was a beautiful summer day, and the sun was high in the sky. Skips and Benson stood side-by-side. On Benson's left was a younger looking Pops, and in front of Pops knelt a teenage human who wore a red baseball cap. Skips and Benson were snickering and shoving each other. Maelard took notice of their camaraderie and scowled at them.

"If you two do anything to screw this picture up I'll have your heads!" Maelard barked.

"Oh us," Benson asked. "Don't worry about us Mr. Maelard, we're just really excited about the picture."

"Yeah," Skips added with a snicker, "real excited."

"Oh yeah, I believe that for a second," Maelard shouted.

"Now father," Pops intervened, "today is a supposed to be a day of merrymaking. The Fourth is a real slice of Americana, you know."

"That's all fine and dandy, but those two hooligans are up to something, I can feel it!" Maelard countered.

The young human picked a few blades of grass and ground them between his two fingers. He knew what the gumball machine was up to, and he wasn't all that excited about it. He didn't get along with Benson and his yeti friend very well. They were too wild. They intimidated him. Regardless, he wasn't going to spoil the big surprise. He disliked Maelard even more, and if their plan was a success they were more than likely going to get fired. He was holding his tongue.

Pops looked at his father with reassuring eyes. Maelard knew that he was taking too much time. He sighed.

"Okay, so we have Skips, Benson, Pops, Chip… Where's Franky?"

After a moments silence, a timid looking squirrel snuck out from behind the young human and wheezed. His nose was runny. The human's eyes lit up and he lifted the squirrel, placing the rodent gently on his shoulder. Maelard stared the squirrel down for a bit, and it cowered behind the human's head as the long couple of seconds dragged on.

"Ah, yes, Franky. Okay, is everyone ready," the older gent asked excitedly, putting his hands together. The crew nodded in unison.

"Okay, now when I hit this button the camera will go off five seconds later, so make sure to keep smiling until it clicks. Got it? Good."

The older gent clicked the camera's shutter button and ran to his son's side. Maelard wrapped his arm around Pops' neck and smiled. Benson reached behind Skips' back and grabbed the red missile he had been concealing in his back pocket. Maelard was too busy staring into the camera lens to notice Skips lighting the firework. Franky lifted Chip's cap and pulled it over himself in fear of the inevitable explosion. Pops and Maelard were none the wiser. Skips and Benson's faces were frozen in awful poses, and as the shutter went off, the rocket flew out of Benson's hand and past Maelard's head. The picture was taken.

Mordecai burst out laughing at the image he held in his hand. Benson and Skips' mouths were agape, frozen in ghastly expressions. The rocket left a trail of smoke across everyone's eyes, except the two in front who he didn't recognize. The squirrel was plummeting toward the ground, clutching the human's hat, and the human was desperately trying to catch him. Carved in the bottom of the frame were crude characters that spelled out "B. S. – Hooligans."

Rigby came back with the screwdriver and found Mordecai crying and pounding his fist against the wall. Rigby dropped the screwdriver in the same spot he had dropped the shears and rushed to find out what was wrong. He assumed that Mordecai's back was acting up from the fall.

"Oh no, dude are you hurt? I'm sorry I took so long, I…" Rigby was interrupted when Mordecai handed him the picture. He took one look and laughed so hard that no sounds came out at first. He choked as he brought in his first breath, and then came back with a high-powered cackle.

Mordecai coughed a few times and tried a breathing exercise to calm himself down, but seeing Rigby all riled up got him going again. "Dude," Mordecai said between wheezes, "dude. Calm down, we've still got work to do. Did you get the screwdriver?"

Rigby did not acknowledge Mordecai's question. He was in an uproar from the photograph and didn't even hear him. "They're… the bottle rocket… Maelards face… Benson… this is amazing!" He was laughing too hard to form complete sentences. "Where'd you get this?"

Mordecai gave his last chuckle as he explained, "it was behind this shelf…" When he motioned to the shelf he noticed something else. He grabbed the edge of an old book and pulled it out from behind the shelf. It's binding was tattered from ware. Rigby's curiosity overcame his giddiness and his attention turned to the object Mordecai held. As Mordecai opened the old book, Rigby climbed him and placed his own face on the blue jay's shoulder to get a better look. Mordecai didn't mind.

The book was filled with old photos of the park, specifically images of Skips and Benson. They looked very happy. The images were sincere, though the pair seemed to look like they were scheming in almost all of them. Mordecai and Rigby stared at the old photographs in curious bewilderment. They reminded the two of themselves, and seeing Benson in such a compromising mood was both fascinating and off-putting. They had assumed that Benson had always had an uptight personality, but the photographs offered a very different image of him. As they turned the pages they saw Benson spraying his fellow employees with a hose, giving out hugs and even drinking during the day. His demeanor was that of a fun loving young guy.

"Well that's… hmm," Mordecai said as he cocked his head.

"I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone or something," whispered Rigby. Just then, they heard Benson's irate footsteps outside.

"Hey guys, have you seen Pops? I think he gave away all of our glasses yesterday…" Benson noticed what Mordecai and Rigby were holding and grew pale. "Where… where did you find that?" he asked, growing pink with embarrassment.

Rigby and Mordecai looked at each other, terrified of the repercussions of their discovery. Benson walked over reluctantly and took the items out of their hands, looking each of them in the eye before turning around. He stopped for a moment at the door, looked down at the discarded flat head, and picked it up as well, before continuing on his way.

"Weird…" Mordecai said as Rigby crawled down from his shoulder.

Benson covered the objects with his arms to conceal them. As he walked down the path he saw Pops sitting in a tree waving at him. He ignored the older gent and continued, thinking hard about what the two had just found. He walked into the house and made his way up the stairs to Pops' room and sat down on his bed. He sighed a deep sigh and looked at the framed photograph with regret in his eyes. He flipped it over and examined the two screws that held on to the back of the frame. They looked crusted over, as though they hadn't been tampered with. This eased his fears. He held his breath as he undid the screws.

Back in the shed, Mordecai and Rigby looked for a proper alternative to the screwdriver that Benson had swiped from them. They tried not to think too hard about what had just happened. The images they saw painted an entirely different Benson than they were used to. The Benson they saw in those photographs reminded them of themselves. He was care free and insubordinate. Mordecai spied a semi-shiny object on the wood floor and picked it up. It was a penny. It would have to do.

Pops' bed sagged under Benson's weight as he rediscovered what he had hidden in the back of the portrait. It was a simple image, but one he could never show anyone, especially Skips. It was a photograph of the two of them sitting under one of the park's trees. Benson was holding the camera and leaning on Skips' shoulder. Skips was happily sipping a can of cheap beer and returning the favor by leaning his head on Benson's. They both looked very happy. Benson had nearly forgotten that summer. It had been an experiment for both of them, one that Benson had taken too far. Skips had opted to keep things simple and let whatever feelings he had for Benson play out, but Benson was a man of definitions. He would ask Skips if they were a couple, whether they were gay or not, and what the future held for the both of them. At the end of the day, Skips did not love Benson the way Benson loved Skips.

Things got difficult for Benson in the final month of that summer. When he would try to fool around with the Yeti, he would be ignored. Things got even stranger when the yeti stopped acknowledging him altogether. One day, Skips told Benson that he no longer wanted to continue seeing him. He informed Benson that he was going to do something that would make him forget that they had ever known each other. Benson was heartbroken. He quit the job and left to pursue other things, and eventually came back to fill in as park manager. When Benson and Skips met for the second time they were strangers. By then, Benson was a much more bitter person.

Downstairs, Rigby struggled to tighten a screw on the new piece of furniture that they had been tasked with assembling. It was a dresser for Pops' room. A pain took over his arm as he twisted. The coin did not provide nearly enough leverage to efficiently drive the screw. It wasn't like Rigby to offer to take over a job and let Mordecai slack off, but he figured he might as well take Benson's advice and let the blue jay rest.

"Need some help?" Mordecai asked as he lounged on the couch.

"Nah," Rigby said, "It's cool. You just keep doing what your doing over there. Ack!" Rigby shrieked as the penny slipped from between his fingers and his nail dug into the side of his knuckle. Mordecai came to his aid but Rigby held up his hand and motioned Mordecai to cease his approach.

"Rigby, let me take over for a bit, that sounded like it hurt," Mordecai gasped.

"No it's okay, I told you. I got this," Rigby mumbled, sucking the fresh blood from his finger.

"Dammit that hurt. If stupid Benson hadn't jacked the screw driver I wouldn't be putting this thing together with a damn penny," Rigby shouted in frustration. "Woah, calm down, he might hear you," Mordecai whispered sternly.

"What do I care if he hears me? Why did he take it anyway? And why is he such a jerk all the time? And why is he acting so damn weird? I'm sick of him, I tell ya, totally sick…"

Rigby's rant was cut short by modest footsteps coming down the stairs. Benson held the screwdriver in his hand. His face wasn't crimson like it usually was when he caught the two of them badmouthing him. It was paler. He looked disappointed.

"You guys should have assembled that in Pops' room, it's going to be a pain when we have to bring it upstairs." Benson's voice was calm and a tad remorseful. He knelt down next to Rigby and started driving in the screws that were supposed to hold together one of the legs. After he finished one, he looked over at Rigby, who was so caught up in the awkwardness that he forgot about his new wound.

"Rigby, holy hell! How did that happen?" he asked with an unfamiliar concern in his voice. Rigby struggled to find the words, but he was still in shock. Had his boss grown deaf? He was acting as though he missed all of the insults that Rigby had broadcasted. The raccoon looked around the room for his voice, but when he couldn't find it he held up the penny in front of Benson's face. A fine line of red dripped over Lincoln's eye.

"You were trying to put together this dresser with a penny?" Benson asked. "Here, give me that. And go put on a Band-Aid." He took the penny from Rigby and wiped it against the carpet to remove the blood. He looked at Mordecai who was no longer lounging on the couch. "You, take the screw driver. Let's get this thing together before Pops gets home." Benson knew he wouldn't get cut, even if his finger slipped.

Rigby ran some cold water over the slice on his finger. The blood hit the drain and phased with the water to make pink strands and droplets. The collage of clear, red and pink swirling down the drain was mesmerizing. Soap added another element to the soupy picture; suds.

Rigby was feeling a little humiliated at being caught mouthing off to Benson, but then again, Benson was acting like he hadn't heard the unsavory remarks. Rigby's eyes shifted away from his own reflection in the bathroom mirror as he pried it open to obtain the bandages inside. He unwrapped a tan adhesive and applied it to his cut. By the time he got downstairs, the pile of wood was beginning to resemble the Armoire that was depicted on the box it came in. He watched Benson direct the construction like a true park manager. At that moment he gained a bit of respect Benson. The man could manage.

The three of them muscled the complete piece of furniture up the stairs one step at a time. The entire job had been surreal. Benson never helped Mordecai and Rigby with their work. And yet, he was being collaborative and cooperative with the two. He wasn't expelling his normal aggressive attitude. Without it, Rigby had nothing to feed off of and didn't feel the need to retaliate.

Mordecai held the front of Armoire with his back facing the top of the steps. Benson held up the rear, and Rigby stood underneath it with his hands straight up above his head. Rigby acted as a stable fulcrum, allowing Mordecai and Benson to pivot around corners that would have normally been troublesome. They only had one more flight of stairs to attend to. Benson nearly dropped the dresser on Rigby's head when he realized he had left his possessions on Pops' bed.

"Hold on guys, I gotta go up there for a second, can you hold the dresser real quick?"

Rigby's eyes widened at the idea of being crushed by the large piece furniture. "Wait," he yelled.

"Dude, we can't hold this thing by ourselves. Is this about the pictures?" Mordecai added.

"Pictures? What pictures," Benson asked, easing his grip on the heavy dresser.

"The pictures we found in the shed," squealed Rigby, suddenly taking on the extra weight.

Benson's face told the two that they were right. It also told them that Benson was very embarrassed about them.

"Hey, someone was bound to find it eventually," Mordecai added, letting go of some of the weight on his end.

"Guys," Rigby whispered, taking on even more of the weight and losing his breath in the process.

Benson grew uncomfortable and let off some more weight. He looked at his toes, then the railing, then back at his toes.

"And besides," Mordecai continued, not hearing Rigby's plight. "I don't see what the big deal is."

"Guys?" cried Rigby, with even less force behind his voice then before.

"So you went through a wild phase, that's nothing to be embarrassed about," Mordecai added, once again failing to recognize that Rigby was holding most of the dresser on his back. "I actually think it's pretty cool, man."

"I don't know what you guys are talking about," said Benson.

Back in his dwelling, Skips noticed that the creature was in pain. He had been eying it suspiciously all day. Its movements and mood seemed to parrot Rigby's. He felt admittedly guilty about essentially stalking the both of them, but this seemed important. At the moment it looked like it was being crushed. It was also making unfamiliar sounds of pain. Skips watched it struggle, and finally came to a realization.

The front door of the house flew open as Skips came crashing through it. He dashed up the stairs and found Mordecai giving Benson a pep talk. He looked around for the raccoon and spied his little legs buckling under the weight of the furniture. He tore the Armoire out of Benson and Mordecai's hand. Rigby stood for a few seconds before falling over and coughing.

"Rigby, are you okay?" Skips asked, getting down on one knee.

Rigby nodded. His eyes were wide and black, and his expression showed more emotional pain than physical.

"Oh crap, Rigby I'm sorry," said Benson and Mordecai in different words. Their tone was identical.

Rigby played up his predicament a bit. He pretended to hold in a cry, and he painted his face a shade of pathetic that only he could wear with dignity.

"You two shouldn't be so negligent," said Skips, grabbing the dresser. He had decided that he was going to move it upstairs without the help of the three of them.

Benson's eyes filled with terror. The last thing he wanted was for Skips to discover the pictures. He wasn't supposed to see them. He hadn't a clue as to how Skips deleted the memories from his mind, but Benson assumed that Skips finding out such things would screw with his perception of reality. The last things he needed were the embarrassment and the mentally incapacitated employee.

"Wait, Skips, don't you want any help with that?" pleaded Benson. He figured he could go up ahead of the yeti and sneak away to hide the pictures.

"Nah, it's cool. I got it," Replied Skips, who placed a foot at the bottom of the attic stairs.

"Uh, no wait, let me help you," Benson commanded in a panic.

"Benson, I told you," replied Skips, stalling for a moment. "I've got it covered."

"I insist," growled Benson.

Mordecai watched the exchange quizzically as he helped his friend from up off the ground. Rigby dropped his act and joined Mordecai in gawking.

"Look, Benson, I don't know what you're trying to prove, but I can handle the dresser," replied Skips. "Jeez, what's gotten into you, anyways?" he added, almost finalizing his ascent.

Benson felt a serious panic hit him hard. "Skips, I order you to put down the dresser. Put. It. Down," he shouted, gritting his teeth.

Skips looked him in the eye. He knew he couldn't disobey a direct order from his boss, though Benson's complete lack of an explanation as to why was agitating. He wordlessly brought the Armoire to the bottom of the stairs and slammed it on the wood floor. Then, he made his way downstairs without acknowledging any of the three. They heard the door downstairs slam loudly.

Benson turned to Mordecai and Rigby. They looked confused. Their befuddlement offended the gumball machine.

"What?" he interrogated. His entire head was tinted red with anger.

The two decided not to explain their confusion. They chose to pretend that there was no confusion, though it was now obvious that the pictures were a significant find. They held a strange power over their boss. They took note and tended to the dresser, this time without Benson's help. The gumball machine obviously needed some time to cool off.

The dresser made its way up Pops' room one leg at a time. Mordecai and Rigby were not strong enough to move the thing, even together. What made things worse was that Benson had still forgotten the objects on Pops' bed. He squeezed by the dresser when the two had made it half way up the stairs. He squeezed by again when the two had made it three quarters of the way of the stairs. When they finally managed to get the thing into Pops' room and Benson was out of earshot, Rigby flopped on Pops' bed. Mordecai joined him on the bed and playfully put his arm around the raccoon's neck. Rigby shoved the blue jays arm away. Mordecai laughed. Something about Rigby's discomfort with any sort of personal touch was amusing to him.

"Dude, you're funny," said Mordecai. He relaxed and put his arms behind his own head. He was satisfied at the jobs completion.

"What do you mean, funny?" Rigby pouted, still indignant at Mordecai's attempt at cuddling. Even if it was just a joke, it felt weird to him.

"I dunno, you get so freaked out at some things," said Mordecai, who stared at the ceiling.

"Don't touch me and I won't 'freak out'," scoffed Rigby.

"Oh, I'm sorry man, it won't happen again," Mordecai said.

"Dude, cut it out," retorted Rigby, also staring at the ceiling.

"Cut what out?" asked Mordecai.

"This," replied Rigby, keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"This what?" asked Mordecai, this time a little annoyed.

"You know, this," said Rigby, motioning to Mordecai's entire body. "All of it. It's weird."

"How is it weird? I was just joking. What, are you afraid I'm gonna kiss you or something?" Mordecai replied.

"Dude just cut it out. You've been acting all different today," Rigby said with an indignant scoff.

"You mean nice?" asked Mordecai.

"Well…" began Rigby, "yeah."

"So… you'd rather I be mean then?" asked Mordecai with a tilted brow.

Rigby didn't really know how to respond. He was thinking it over when he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He turned to Mordecai to yell at him.

"Hey! Don't punch me…" Rigby barked, expecting to be greeted by a furious Mordecai. He wasn't. Mordecai had a wonderful grin on his face. The punch turned out to be a ferocious love tap.

"What," asked Rigby. Mordecai refused to stop smiling.

"Cut it out," Rigby pleaded. He struggled to stay angry with Mordecai, but he didn't have the willpower. The blue jay's face was decorated with an infectiously playful smile, and Rigby didn't have it in him to stay mad. Rigby matched Mordecai's by adopting a mischievous smirk. Then, he shoved the blue jay in the chest.

Mordecai answered with a counter-shove that knocked the light raccoon off of the bed. Rigby scampered back onto the bed and dodged a right hook. He put his hand on Mordecai's face and escalated the play fight with a hard punch to the chest. Mordecai grabbed Rigby and held him above his head.

Rigby was delighted with the idea of being thrown against the mattress. He imagined himself bouncing off of it and returning with a swift hook to the blue jay's face. He also feared being slammed into the hard wood floor. Either way, he was ready to receive whatever attack Mordecai had planned for him.

Mordecai was about to dish out a body slam when he heard a boisterous round of applause behind him. He turned his head to investigate the source.

"Good show! Jolly good show!" cheered Pops, who was giddier than the both of them. "A friendly wrassle with a good friend is a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon," said the older man with a wink.

Mordecai placed Rigby gently on the bed and hopped off. He wasn't going to beat the tar of out his friend in front of Pops.

"Is that my new Armoire? Oh how exciting," shouted Pops, running over to his new dresser to play with the drawers.

Mordecai looked at Rigby and said what he needed to say with his expression. They both snuck out of Pops' room and listened to him cackle behind them. They heard the drawers open and close repeatedly. When they reached the first floor of the house, Mordecai looked at Rigby and asked, "Wanna go get a coffee?"

"Sure," replied Rigby.

TO BE CONTINUED LOL

Author's note

Okay, I know it's been a while since I updated. Well you'll be glad to hear that I'm back and writing. I'm cutting this chapter in half because I realized that jumping from 4000 words per chapter to 12000 was a little heavy, but I will be making the chapters a bit longer from here on out.

Also, if you like the story, feel free to write a review! Reading reviews inspires me to write faster, so it only benefits you in the long run ;)

OH! I almost forgot. The photograph sequence was inspired by the tune "I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel To Be Free" by Nina Simone.

All of the Mordecai and Rigby scenes were inspired by "The Tallest Man On Earth," specifically the songs "Troubles Will Be Gone" and "Thrown Right At Me."

Thanks for reading! Until next time…