Chapter Seven
FAX Me
The flyers were probably the easiest part to do when planning the fundraiser. A little bit of work on the computer, and Don had made up a cute little poster complete with lots of pretty colors, pictures of families enjoying themselves, and bright special effects that stood out above all the rest. He was happy to see some onlookers taking a gander at them when he posted the first batch of flyers next to a mattress store. This was the first sense of accomplishment he had received from working at the park.
City Park Fundraiser and Carnival!
All ages welcome!
Bring the family for a day of food, fun, and fantastic fanaticism!
1). When?
"So Mr. Maellard," Benson began as he twirled the phone cord around his fingers nervously, "I think the best date to do the fundraiser might be probably on the 27th. It's a Saturday, so there's a better chance more people would attend, and it's not for another three weeks, so it gives us a little extra time to get everything set up as well as advertise."
There was some clicking on the other end of the line, and a few light whispers. The sound of rustling paper came not too soon after that.
"Very well then," Maellard answered over the phone. "We'll make the date for the 27th of this month. I was hoping you could have it ready sooner than that, but being you are who you are, I'll give you the extra time to settle things." The comment caused Benson to quietly rage on the other side of the phone. Maellard was just lucky not to see it. "I'd also like a list of all the attractions and booths as soon as possible. My investors will be attending this, and I need to show them how competent we are, as well as point out any potential local businesses they can put money into. The key word in that sentence, Bentam, is competent."
The park manager was doing his best to try and not start screaming over the phone at his boss. Muscle Man and HFG sat at the kitchen table, watching the hilarity of an anger filled Benson jump and silently flail his fists everywhere. Benson didn't mind them laughing though. He had grown far too used to it over time. All he asked of them was to keep it down so that Maellard didn't overhear anything that he wasn't supposed to.
"I hear giggling in the background!" Maellard remarked. Obviously, Benson's pleas to the two were fallen on deaf ears. "What's going on over there?" the old man asked.
"It's nothing, Mr. Maellard," Benson quickly lied. "Mordecai and Rigby just left the TV on in the other room, and the volume is too loud. I haven't gotten a chance to go switch it off yet."
"Well what are you waiting for then, man? Electricity is an expensive commodity. Go turn it off! Is it so hard for you to do your job?"
Benson gritted his teeth and siphoned air through them is an angry way. "Alright, sir. If you hold on one second, I'll go take care of the TV and discuss more with you about the fundraiser."
"Don't bother," Maellard snapped. "I have other things to attend to as it is. The fundraiser is my lowest priority at the moment. However, I expect all of you to make it your highest. Your jobs could very well depend on in." There was a brief pause and a loud clanking sound before Maellard continued. "Timothy! Bring me another cup of coffee with some brandy in it!"
His voice sounded far and away. The phone must not have disconnected when he put it down. The gumball machine was about to hang the kitchen phone up, but was too compelled to listen in on the further exploits of his boss. He muted the phone and put it on speaker for Muscle Man and High Five Ghost to listen in as well. There was laughter all around between the three of them as they listened to Maellard and his bodyguard argue about stocks and their share prices. Benson's mood slowly began to clear as he listened to the bewildered stories of his employer.
2). Where?
The steps of the Coffee Shop were beginning to become all too familiar to Benson at this point. When he reached the bottom, he took a quick look around the room. He was happy he came today; there wasn't a single soul in the room at all. Being that it was still that period between lunch and dinner, he knew that now would have been the best time to talk to the staff about possibly setting up a booth at the fundraiser.
He approached the counter and looked for any signs of the red robin. Shockingly, she wasn't there. He assumed she was in the back room, working or something, and gave out a quick, "hello?" to behind the counter.
"I'm here! Don't worry!" shouted a squeaky little voice from behind the counter.
Benson stared over the edge of the counter and saw a young woman, no taller than Rigby was, looking up at him while playing her pony tail. She adjusted the rather large glasses on her face and pushed the extra strands of hair out of her sight.
"Sorry bout that," she said jumping up on a stool by the register. "What can I get for you today?"
With the girl now visible, Benson gave her a small grin. "It's Eileen right?"
The girl, shocked that someone remembered her name, looked at the gumball machine strangely. "You know me?" she asked quizzically. Her mind then suddenly snapped into place, and the smile returned to her face. "Oh I remember you now! You're that red faced gumball machine that Rigby's always complaining about!"
"Of course I am," Benson moaned. Is that all he and Mordecai ever did when they came to the Coffee Shop: complain about him behind his back on a daily basis? He didn't blame them, he could be a spaz at times, and it wasn't like he didn't complain to Skips about Maellard on routine.
Eileen giggled as she remembered some of the things that Rigby had said about Benson. She tried to keep some of it in considering their boss was actually standing right across from her, but had far too much trouble. She had to admit though, he didn't seem as monstrous as the boys made him out to be.
Benson had a feeling he knew what she was giggling about, and simply shrugged it off. The insults were beginning to feel numb to him at that point.
"My names Benson, by the way," he said to her. They shook hands officially and tried to gain a proper bit of composure around each other.
"So what is it you need Benson?" Eileen said as she suppressed her giggling. "Came in for a cup of coffee, or a late lunch?"
"None of that actually," the gumball machine replied. "I actually was looking for Margaret. I needed to talk to her about something. You see, we were wondering if you guys wanted to set up a booth or something at this fundraiser event we're having for the park."
Eileen lost her smile and replaced it with a sort of neutral expression. "Oh... then you'll need to talk to me or Michelle about it then. Margaret doesn't really have any say in the matter. She's pretty much just a worker. She's out for the day anyways: doctor's appointment."
"So you're higher up than Margaret?" Benson asked.
"Pretty much, but only by one level. I'm the assistant manager. Michelle is the store manager. Margaret and our new help are pretty much just pretty faces that serve coffee at minimum wage and tips." The mole girl sighed and tapped her finger unhappily on the counter. "It really doesn't make a lot of sense considering the amount of time I've worked here."
"How long have you been working here?"
"A little over a year," Eileen replied.
"How long has Margaret been working here?" Benson followed up.
Eileen had to think about that for a moment. When the answer came clear to her, she answered with, "about two and a half years I think."
"That long? And you're above her?"
"It's unfair, I know. Michelle keeps passing over her. There's a reason for it, but I can't tell you why. Margaret would kill me, and Michelle probably would too. Needless to say, if I could give Margaret my job, I certainly would. She definitely could use the extra money for her tuition, and I don't think I'm really that deserving of the position anyways." The short girl frowns as she thinks about it. "I hope the new girl doesn't get promoted before her. If that happens, I don't know what Margaret might do. She really doesn't deserve this kind of treatment."
Benson couldn't help but agree with Eileen. It was unfair that she would be passed over after such a long time of working there. Hopefully, whatever was keeping her down wasn't as bad as his brain was telling him. He then pondered about himself, and wondered how long he had been park manager, and if Maellard would ever give him a raise or promotion of some sort.
"Is it really that bad?" Benson asked.
Eileen looked into the machine's eyes and twirled her finger into the air. "I think it's the smallest of deals to me. She's so happy that I'm accepting of it. Margaret's always been Margaret to me. She's my best friend, so I try to be supportive for her." She flinched when she realized she might have said too much. Quickly changing the subject: "But Michelle's kind of an idiot, and way too opinionated. It's not like she has a right to talk, especially the person she shares a bed with." She follows this up with a shiver, and tries to shake the image out of her head.
"I heard he was kind of crazy," Benson said.
"The worst," she countered.
And there Benson was, getting caught up in gossip again. He wasn't there for any of that. Sure he worried about Margaret a little bit, but he had to worry about his own job first and foremost. "Anyways," Benson began, "we're doing a park fundraiser to make sure the place stays open, and that we all keep our jobs and-"
"Rigby might lose his job!" Eileen nearly yelled.
Benson stepped back a bit by the girl's sudden shock. Apparently, this girl must have had some sort of major crush on Rigby. Why anyone would fall for that pile of filth was beyond him, but perhaps he could use this to his advantage, he thought.
"Oh yeah, it's terrible," Bensons said, milking it on. "I mean, if we don't get the money for the park, then Mordecai and Rigby might end up being the first to go. It's a tragedy, it really is."
Benson didn't like having to use Rigby to pull on this girl's heartstrings, but if it meant that the park was going to be alright, then he had to do anything to make sure his job and everyone else's at the park was safe and secure. Besides, it wasn't like he was lying. He was telling her the honest truth.
Eileen tapped her feet and thought aloud. "And if we open up a booth and sell coffee, some of the money would go to the park, right?" she asked feverishly.
"Absolutely!" Benson said with a grin. "Did I mention that I was going to be setting up the coffee booth next to the information booth, where Mordecai and Rigby will be working?"
Eileen's eyes absolutely lit up. Any chance to work along side Rigby was a chance she just had to have. Her thoughts began to sift and circle around and she thought about the two of them working together, laughing, playing, being seriously romantic with one another, and having the whole day end with Rigby admitting feelings for her. She nearly jumped off of her stool when she thought about it. Even she thought is was a childish fantasy, but those dreams were what kept her wishing and hoping.
"Okay, okay!" she said with excitement in her voice. "I'll go call Michelle right now and run it past her! I'll bet she'll say yes! She always likes to do these things to try and get the shop's name out there."
Eileen wasted no time jumping out of her chair and racing over to a telephone.
"That was easy," Benson thought to himself. He spent the rest of his time there listening to a giddy mole talk to her boss about their plans for the fundraiser.
3). How?
Skips and Benson looked over the map of the park, now scribbled with marker and pen, doing their best to try and figure out the right positions for all these booths and attractions. There was an information booth, the coffee booth, a dunk tank, Muscle Man and HFG's kissing booth, Skips test your own strength attraction as well as a place to sell his aura stone, Pops was going to be performing comical theater along with running the pin the tail on the donkey game, and a few other people from scattered parts of the city were going to be providing their services to the event as well. Some were doing it free of charge, and some were doing with more charge than Benson could possibly even imagine. With the amount Maellard had given them though, they could handle it.
"Well how about we stick the kissing booth next to the porta-potties?" Don asked via the speaker from the phone in the kitchen. He was out and about working on getting more caterers.
"That certainly would make more sense considering it's Muscle Man," Benson mumbled audibly. Skips let out a chuckle and drew an arrow from one location to another.
"Hey, c'mon Benson," Don happily bemoaned, "I'll bet Muscle Man is a great kisser!"
"Do you wanna kiss him then?" Benson asked as he smirked and looked toward the phone.
Don paused for a second to think about it. "There's nothing wrong with a honey with your sugar, no matter how green it is."
Benson had a quick mental image of Muscle Man and Don in the acts of swapping saliva, and shivered in disgust. That could very well replace the image of Maellard attempting to seduce him in his nightmares on the rare nights he actually did dream – like he needed anything else to scare the living daylights out of him.
"But I suppose if I had to choose someone from the park," the raccoon continued, "I'd probably just stick with you Benson. You seem like someone who doesn't get any honey what so ever." He laughed after this, finding the things he said to be surprisingly hilarious.
Benson stopped his scribbling and vacantly looked down at the map. He could hear Skips laughing under his breath. "So I don't get enough honey now?" Benson whispered to himself. "That's just great."
"I hear High Five is going to be kissing both the girls and guys," Skips added, changing the subject away from his boss.
A sort of affectionate sound came out of Don before saying, "that's adorable."
Benson once again rolled his eyes at the carefree raccoon. If there was anything he didn't want to talk about right then, it was the kissing habits of Muscle Man and High Five Ghost. He had to listen to one of them talk about it on an almost daily basis. Plus, he had just recently eaten and didn't need any more mental images making his day more unpleasant.
"Back to the original subject," Benson snapped, "we still need to find an area where we can stick all these caterers. We got four restaurants who are going to be doing some cooking."
"Five actually," Don added.
"Five then," Benson said as he put another square onto the side of the map with a random name inside. He drew an arrow to the spot where it was going to be, somewhere with the rest of the restaurants.
"It might be six," Don continued. "I'm on my way to the last one right now. Good thing too, because I'm getting pretty tired. I haven't eaten any lunch yet, and none of these businesses will give me any sugar for my time spent with them."
Benson put the pen down and sighed. "I told you this was going to be stressful, Don. Just finish up what you got, and then take a long break. We can handle everything else."
"No, I want to help!" Don said. "If I'm going to be part of this family, I need to pull my weight in and get things done, just like Rigbone."
"Who told you Rigby pulls his weight around here?"
"Well my big bro, of course! He keeps saying you're going to give him a promotion sometime in the future. When is that anyways?"
Benson was happy that Don wasn't there, because at that moment, the gumball machine was busy slamming his head against the top of the kitchen table repeatedly. Skips stood there and did nothing, except follow the machine's makeshift attempt at hurting himself with his eyes. Benson was actually quite impressed that his new head dulled some of the pain a bit. And still no scratches either.
"What's that banging sound?" Don asked from the other end of the line.
"Just the usual, Don," Skips commented.
"Oh, well… okay…" Don replied with confusion in his voice. He wasn't sure what "the usual" meant, but was sure he would find out in time.
The raccoon had been overly excited about becoming a part of the staff since it was announced, even if he was only meant to be the park accountant, and only part time at that. But he still felt as though he needed to put his best foot forward and do just as much work as the others. Besides, this gave him more time to be with his brother whom he loved to pieces. They didn't have the best of relationships, but at least it gave him some time to better know his older sibling, and that was enough for him.
Benson was not sharing the same sentiment however. While he admired Don for all the hard work he put into keeping the parks financial records sound and without flaw, he did worry about the raccoon and his mental state. He knew that Don would be able to get these things around the park done no problem. It was the stress that had Benson worried. Don was already stressed working on the accounts and finances of god knows how many people, and the added stress of the fundraiser and the park certainly wouldn't help. Not to mention that Don was emotionally sensitive. If Benson had it his way, Don would have stayed behind a computer and do what he did best: supporting the staff with sugar and high spirits.
Eventually, Benson stopped banging his head against and table and looked over to the phone again. He walked over to it and told Don to call him back when he had more news on the last caterer.
"Okay then, Benson!" Don said joyfully. "When I get back later, I expect some sugar from ya!" The phone clicked and the dial tone came on after that.
Benson pressed the button to hang up the phone on his end, and leaned against the wall to try and breath. Whatever stress Don might have been feeling right then paled in comparison to the one that Benson had. The gumball machine could feel his head pulsating in a ravaging pain, and gripped it with his hand, hoping that that might make it better somehow. He looked over to Skips for some sort of sympathy. He didn't get it. The yeti was too busy looking over the scribbles and marking on the map and trying to offer his own take on locations and such.
"Maybe we should move the caterers over to the information booth so they'll be next to the Coffee Shop," Skips pondered. "Just a thought to keep all the booths with food together."
"Nah," Benson groaned, "then Mordecai and Rigby will want to eat everything instead of manning their stations."
"You really don't trust them, do you?"
Benson smiled. "I don't really trust anything that has to do with this fundraiser coming up next week. I'm tired, I'm stressed, and I can't wait for this thing to be over."
"You shouldn't worry so much over this stuff," Skips reassured him. "Everything is going to work out just fine."
Benson bust out laughing. "You really think so? You actually think everything is going to work out just fine? When has it ever? Something is going to happen, and it's going to jeopardize this whole event, I promise you. This happens like clockwork Skips. It's a pattern!"
Skips honestly didn't want to hear such negativity. Benson and Don weren't the only ones stressed about all of this. The entire park staff was getting worked to the bone to make sure they didn't lose their jobs, and Benson's constant hounding and stressful nature wasn't helping matters much.
"I'm going out for some fresh air," Skips announced. "Maybe try to get away from this negative environment for a bit."
Benson was surprised to hear Skips say that. It was obviously directed at him, and the gumball machine didn't like it. "Skips!" he yelled to the yeti skipping away. He was just about to follow him out and apologize when the phone rang.
He groaned and turned a deep shade of crimson before answer the phone. "WHAT!" he roared as loud as he could.
"Bentumor!" Maellard yelled. "What's all this screaming about? Now is not the time to be screaming!"
Benson really wanted to curl into a ball and cry at that moment. Instead, he forced all of his rage into the pit of his gears and apologized to Maellard as best as he could. He put on his best face, took a deep breath and tried to explain himself.
Skips walked out the back door, shaking his head and cursing his boss out. He took a few steps down the stairs, but stopped halfway down. He looked back up at the still open door that he didn't close in his anger. A pain shot through his body that vibrated into his heart. He wanted to go up and say something, but...
He couldn't get involved... no matter how much he wanted to.
FAX Me – Yoko Kanno
Author's Notes
You know, I don't have a lot to say on this one. I honestly believe that out of all the chapters in the entire story, this one is without a doubt, the weakest of the bunch. It's pretty much just a way to explain the fundraiser and all the characters involved in it. I suppose you can call it filler, cause that's all it really boils down to. Still, I enjoyed writing it, and it didn't feel like a chore like the other chapter did. So I guess... Mission Accomplished?
I actually did add a bunch of character exposition on the proof read though. So that basically added another 1000 words to the original draft. Of course, I like writing character exposition. Tis fun!
So Until Next Chapter...
Adieu...
