Chapter Eight
Home Again Garden Grove
While he was dutifully stressed out, Benson couldn't help but feel that rare sense of accomplishment when he took a look at the park from the porch steps of the rec house. The place actually looked great. The booths were set up with random strangers pouring in to set up, as well as the park staff already manning their stations. The morning breeze carried with it the scent of breakfast and lunch foods that, no matter how full a person was, would always make their mouth water for more. A few muffled yells and discussions went on in the background that added to the atmosphere of the cheerful morning, and because of all this, Benson felt proud of himself, as well as pride for the others. A good start to what he hoped would be a worthwhile day.
He took a small sip from his mug filled with orange juice, and tried to relax. He could already feel the sweetness and vitamin C coursing through his gears, giving him that morning boost he so desperately would need. The actual event wasn't starting for another hour, so Benson took that time to catch his breath and "charge his batteries" up. It was going to be the only bit of calm he was going to have all day. If he were smarter, he would have requested the following day off to recover. But he needed the money anyways, and this wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He had dealt with worse before.
He heard the front door open, and someone approach him from behind. They knelt down and sat next to him with a plate, spoon, and a glass of juice in hand. Benson smiled at the stranger and wished him the best greeting he could.
"And good morning to you too," Don said, putting his glass of juice down next to him. He beamed happily, returning the man's good nature.
"Are you ready for today?" Benson asked.
"You bet I am!" the raccoon exclaimed, before holding out his plate to the gumball machine. "Grapefruit?"
Benson shook his head and let Don have the whole thing. The younger of the two was going to need it without a doubt. Benson could see the exhaustion that was already sprawled out across Don's face. He had been running around the city trying to help get things planned and figured out, as well as helping with booth setup, and managing the event, that he barely had time to even take a break or sleep. He had been pushing himself too hard in all of this. And while someone like Benson was used to this - having to work with this kind of stuff on a daily basis - the most Don was ever used to were numbers and calculations in front of a computer screen. All of this multi-planning on top of his already stressful accountant job was not good for him, and it showed on his face.
"Did you sleep well?" Benson wondered to Don.
The raccoon gave him a sort of nervous grin before answering, "not really."
Benson had a feeling that this day may not end well for either one of them. Don was probably going to snap under the pressure of the park, while Benson was more than likely going to be grilled by Maellard the entire day, as well as deal with all the park patrons.
"Well, take this time to rest up," Benson replied. "You and I are gonna have a big day today. Maellard is going to be watching us both like a hawk I'm sure."
"You sure about that?" Don inquired. "He seemed to be in a pretty good mood this morning. He and Timmy are inside watching financial reports. Last I checked they were having a friendly discussion over the price of wheat."
"Wheat? Like bread?"
Don nodded to him. "Yeah. Timmy said he thinks the price is going to go way up in the near future, while Maellard thinks it's all going to drop sometime soon. Those two are a pair."
"A pair of what?" Benson pondered out loud with a grin.
"A pair of great guys, of course!" Don said with a great big smile. "And because they're so great, they get a good amount of sugar everyday!"
Benson huffed out a laugh and took another sip of his juice. He was enveloped in fur a moment later as Don pulled him into a one armed hug.
"But I think you deserve just a little more sugar than everyone else here, eh Mr. Stressed?" He winked at Benson, who leaned into the hug. Don's hugs were always a sought after commodity, so everyone at the park (save for Rigby) considered it an honor to get a hug from such a wonderful person. Don pulled away a few seconds later, with the smile still spread across his face.
Benson thanked him for the sugar and sighed with a little content in his voice. He looked up at the sky and watched the puffy formations transform and sprint along the blue, while he quickly finished off his juice. When he looked back at Don, he found the young man still staring at him with doe eyes. Benson looked away with a hinted blush and felt his stomach bubble.
"Don't look at me like that, okay?" he said to him. "I don't like it when people look at me like that."
"Why not?" Don asked moving a little closer to Benson.
"Because I just don't. And to be honest you're making me feel a little bit uncomfortable."
"Well I don't want to make you feel that way, Benson. I wanna see you smile," Don said, a little softer than before. "You have this stressed out mood about you all the time. And it just feels like I could-"
"Stop right there," Benson interrupted, holding his hand up to cease the raccoon from advancing any further. "I've been ignoring most of the signs these past few weeks because I thought you were just being playful, but I'm sorry, Don. It's not happening."
"Oh," Don said, stopping in his tracks and looking down on the grassy park lawn.
The two sat there in silence for a little bit, hoping that the awkward nature of the conversation would fly away at some point.
"I'm sorry," Don finally spoke. He laughed at himself and rubbed the back of his head nervously. "I guess I was just thinking… I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I'm just stressed out right now."
"It's alright," Benson said with a sincere smile. "A little awkward, but it's alright. I remember what it was like to be young and confused about everything."
"So you're not mad?"
"Why would I be? Far weirder things have happened to me at this park weekly than you having a little crush on me."
Don laughed a bit. "I guess it is a little silly, huh. I think I just really admire what you do for everyone, and I guess I'm still kind of confused about my own feelings, trying to come into things, you know?."
Benson's grin widened. True, it was a strange exchange that just too place, but it made his spirit soar. Someone told him that they admired and liked him, even pretty much said they were attracted to him. That helped give him a boost of strength needed to handle the day.
"Don't worry about it," Benson said to the younger man. "We've all been in your shoes before."
"Yeah," Don coughed out. "Could you… not tell Rigbone about this? I really don't want him to get the wrong idea or anything like that."
"Don, I'm not telling anyone what happened here."
"Cause you're ashamed?"
"No. Because every employee in this park wouldn't shut up about it. The men who work at this park gossip worse than the women at the Coffee Shop." Benson let out another laugh and relaxed a bit. Even Don gave a couple of giggles. "So yes, we're good," Benson added. "Don't worry about it."
"Thanks," Don sighed, with a bit of relief in his voice this time. He took a piece of grapefruit in his hand and looked at it. Truthfully, because of that little problem, he had lost his appetite, but still knew he needed to eat something. He was about to scoop out a piece with his spoon, when he noticed something on the palm of his hand. "Is that still bleeding?"
Benson's attention completely focused on Don and his hand. He snatched the raccoon's hand and looked at it. A large diagonal cut stretched from the base of his pinky to his thumb, and was slowly bleeding out. It wasn't enough to drip or trickle, but the red stuff was still there. "How did this happen!" Benson screamed.
"It was an accident," Don answered, "while I was cutting up grapefruit. I already cleaned it. It doesn't need bandaging, so don't worry about it. I'll be fine."
Benson didn't care. He forced the raccoon up from off the steps and brought him into the house, going straight towards the kitchen. It pissed him off that Don didn't properly take care of this thing.
"What's going on?" Maellard inquired as the two passed by the couch.
"Don accidentally cut himself is all," Benson said simply.
Maellard only nodded and returned to his show about fiscal reports and such. His body guard, Tim, gave the two of them a quick and curious look, before shrugging and returning back to the TV show.
The rest of Benson's time consisted of him holding Don's hand under the water with soap until the bleeding stopped. Don cringed in pain the whole way through. He was going to have to suffer more though: they were out of bandages and wraps.
Benson knew his day was only going to get worse from there on in. The fundraiser had begun, and it was his job to go around and make sure everything and everyone was present and accounted for. He was also in charge of making sure none of the vendors were breaking any rules, and that his own employees weren't doing anything questionable. Considering his staff, he was more worried about them than the actual venders.
It started with Muscle Man getting slapped three times by three women, all in a row. It got to the point where he got so upset, he started flinging insults at the women who didn't want to come to him. Mind him, a good majority of the female customers loved that green skin of his, but those three women in particular didn't take shit from anyone. Benson eventually had to move him over to the kiddy area with the moon jump and little carnival games, leaving High Five's to manage the whole thing. The ghost, as it turned out, was an exceptionally fine kisser, as Benson found out first hand when the ghost – high on affection – gave him a quick kiss, confusing him for a customer. Benson laughed it off though. He was surprised to see the spirit even get a few numbers from the ladies. Fives threw them out however, having no interest in dating or sex from either gender, and continued his little kissing games.
Skips' strong man games were a surprise hit, attracting teenage boys who were doing their best to impress their young lady friends. Skips couldn't help but chuckle whenever he saw a cocksure young man barely get to the half way point on the test your strength game. He also earned himself a sense of self esteem when he beat every single one of the contestants in arm wrestling.
Benson stood by and watched the customers come one after the other, forking over their hard earned cash to prove the yeti wrong on both his games. No one was able to surpass him in the arm wrestling competition. But a young albino woman in his her late teens was actually able to hit the Test Your Strength machine hard enough to get a ring of the bell. She was happy to win an aura stone necklace for her girlfriend. And though Skips grinned happily at the couple, there was a sort of sadness in his eyes when he looked at the two of them. "Who knows," Benson thought, "maybe they remind him of some people he once knew."
Pops' pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey game was popular among the kids, more so by the fact that he too was playing along with the children than actually supervising them. A few of the parents commented on what a wonderful clown Pops was and wondered what he was like when he wasn't acting. Benson really wanted to correct the dutiful mothers and fathers, but knew that would only stir up trouble. So when he passed by the booth a second time and saw Pops with a child riding on his back with excitement, he smiled, shook his head, and wandered off to his next destination.
When Benson saw the stretching line by the information booth, he couldn't help but let out an evil laugh. He didn't expect the info booth to be so crowded, and assumed most people would have just wandered around aimlessly to all the attractions. But there it was: people asking where this and that were, and Mordecai and Rigby going crazy to accommodate the patrons. Benson wanted to ask how they were doing, but they looked too busy to have to deal with him. On the occasions where the two actually got their work done, Benson felt that interrupting them might shift their moods negatively. He knew they hated him, so it might have been in the best interests of all parties if he just let them be.
"Hey Benson!" yelled a feminine voice to the gumball machine.
He looked over to the booth next to Mordecai and Rigby's, and found Margaret and Eileen waving to him. He waved back and approached them. The booth seemed to be in well enough order: it was smaller than the rest of them, but carried all the supplies and equipment necessary to make a good cup of coffee. Though, Benson was actually surprised that there were no customers considering the info booth next door to them was so busy.
"Hi girls," Benson greeted. "Keeping busy?"
Both the mole and robin stared at each and then sighed.
"It's a disaster," Margaret answered. "We were expecting it to be busier than just a couple of customers every hour. If we don't make a certain amount of cash before the end of the day, Michelle is gonna kill us both."
"Well, she'll only yell at you, and you'll get away with only a warning," Eileen remarked. "I'm the assistant manager. She's going to rip my tail off, and unlike the common tree lizard, I can't grow mine back."
Benson grinned at Eileen's quirky little nature. She was a breath of fresh air. They both were.
"And look at Rigby over there," the mole continued. "He looks so tired and worn out – maybe I should go take him some coffee."
"Mordecai too," Margaret added, "since he looks like he's about to collapse. That is, of course, if it's okay with their boss." The robin and mole beamed at Benson with affectionate eyes.
He laughed at them. "It's fine with me," he said with a shrug. "If it keeps them doing their work and not slacking off, I'm okay with it."
Eileen jumped up and down in a giddy nature, and quickly turned around to prepare two cups of piping hot coffee, just the way the boys like it. A big smile spread across her face as she shaped the foam from one of the cups into that of a heart.
"Could you do that with Mordecai's too, Eileen?" Margaret asked.
The mole nodded and slowly began to decorate the second cup with the same precision as the first one. Afterwards, she took the cardboard mugs in hand and slowly made her way next door.
Benson raised an eyebrow at Margaret's request. Sure Mordecai had a huge crush on this girl, but did Margaret share the same thing for him? This was quite curious in Benson's eyes. "A heart for Mordecai too?" Benson said in an inquisitive tone. His smile widened as he noticed the faintest blush across the girl's face. Even with all that red plumage, it was still as plain as day.
"Well, why not?" she asked him. "There's nothing wrong with making sure they both have the same enjoyable coffee experience." She paused for a second and groaned when she realized just how silly she sounded. "Enjoyable coffee experience? Ugh, now I'm starting to sound like Michelle."
Benson huffed out a laugh and crossed his arms. "You and Mordecai are something else."
"And why do you say that?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Hey," Margaret exclaimed gleefully, "I already know he's got a big crush on me. You'd have to be blind not to see that. I can't help it if I got a little one back."
"A little one?" Benson said as he leaned against the booth.
The girl's face contorted a bit in embarrassment, and she looked away from the gumball machine. "Well… maybe bigger than a little."
Benson shook his head and asked, "Why haven't you asked him out yet?"
"I have my reasons," she said sadly.
"Do you mind if I ask what those are?"
"I do actually. So if you don't mind…" She held her arm in embarrassment and looked away shyly from Benson.
"It's alright," the machine cut in. "I understand Margaret. We all have skeletons in our closet. Believe me…"
Margaret closed her eyes and sighed in exhaustion. She began to nervously rub her feathers. "Mine's a little… different… than others," she groaned.
Benson sensed the turmoil she was plunging into, and tried to think of something to say in order help her feel better. "Try not to think about. You'll only make yourself feel worse." He knew that wasn't going to do much, but it was something. He got a nod and a sigh out her.
Margaret appreciated the concern, but really didn't want it. God knows she got enough of that from Eileen whenever the subject was brought up.
"So how is the ummm… supervising coming?" Margaret asked, trying to change the subject.
"Slow and steady," Benson answered. "How's the coffee making coming along?"
Margaret let out a slightly annoyed smirk and spread her wings out to show off the booth. "This is it right here. I still don't understand why Michelle would send the three of us out here when Eileen and I would have just worked fine."
"Three?" Benson asked. "There are three of you here?"
"Yeah," Margaret moaned, "Eileen, myself, and the new girl." The robin shuttered unhappily as the last two words came out of her mouth.
Benson recognized that expression and shiver anywhere. It was the same look he gave himself in the mirror every time he had to deal with the two idiots in the booth next door. "That bad, huh?" he said with some sympathy.
"The worst," she snapped. "You complain about Mordecai and Rigby; well, I think I found my equivalent of them in this one girl. I can't stand her. She does her job okay, but she gets so snippy and angry about it, and if there's something wrong with her face then she just sits around applying make-up and working on her hair. She's the role model for the lazy female stereotype! She's driving me up the wall!"
"I know the feeling," Benson said with empathy.
"And you know what's worse? Eileen and Michelle are completely blind to it. They give her the benefit of the doubt all the time, and never hold her accountable for anything. You wouldn't believe how angry it makes me!" The girl's wings curl into a fist as she continues to think about it.
"Oh I could believe it," Benson laughed. "The stories I could tell you."
Margaret proceeded to get on eye level with Benson, who was actually enjoying the site of someone just as annoyed and angry at their coworkers as he was. "I mean, really, I just want to go up to her, look her right in her frozen ice queen eyes, and say, 'Veronica, if you don't-'"
"Veronica!" Benson shouted.
Margaret flinched by the sudden raise in Benson's tone. "Uh, yeah," she said to him. "That's the name of our new employee."
Benson's eyes darted back and forth in a panic. It couldn't have been the same one, it just couldn't. There were tons of girls in the world named Veronica. The chances were slim. But he had to know though. This was a matter of sanity and lunacy. "Is she a gumball machine!" he quickly asked Margaret.
"What? I mean…"
"IS SHE A GUMBALL MACHINE!" he screamed as loud as he could, grabbing the robin by her apron and bringing her in.
"Why don't you look for yourself?" cooed a deep female voice from behind him.
He let go of the robin and felt himself began to sweat bullets. That voice. He could never forget that deep and sensual voice that he had grown accustomed to so many years ago. He was a younger man then. He was still naïve and unaware of how cruel the world truly was. He was a peace maker, a musician, a lover, a romantic. He was everything that he always wanted to be. And then she came along…
"goOD bYe BeNny," she said in a truly cruel tone. Her bags were packed, she had on her Sunday best, and was ready to leave forever. Once on the train she would be gone for good – no coming back. No matter what Benson said to her though, she was leaving, and that was that. "I'm LeaVINg YoU fOR a BUSiNeSs MAn."
Benson shook himself back from his harsh memories of her. The less thought about that day, the better. He had tried so desperately to block it out of his mind, but life always had another plan for him. He gulped and turned around slowly to meet the keeper of the voice.
There she stood: A gumball machine, same height and model as he. Unlike him though, her features were more feminine, painted on with expensive lipstick and mascara. Gorgeous blonde hair stretched down past her shoulder and dangled, carelessly hitting the violet colored steel body she prided herself on. Nothing about her had changed in Benson's eyes. The only thing that seemed different from before was the coffee apron she sported, which was surprisingly clean considering Margaret and Eileen's aprons were always stained with something.
The woman smirked and nodded to her ex-lover. She barely even acknowledged Benson as she passed by him and entered the booth, positioning herself next to Margaret. Her sights were set on the robin. "Don't let me interrupt you, sweet Margaret," she said in a snide tone. "Please go on and explain to Benny here why it is that I'm just an awful worker. I'm quite curious about that myself." She placed her elbows down on the counter of the booth and rested her head on the palms of her hand, batting her eyelashes boastfully to Margaret.
Margaret looked at the smug looking female contraption, and then over to Benson as the realization set in. "You and her?" she coughed out.
Benson took a few steps back. This wasn't happening. That woman wasn't there. He was having a hallucination from months and months of stress of having to deal with the park. No no, she couldn't have been there. That part of his life was behind him now. He had to have been dreaming. That had to be it! He was having a nightmare after all those nights of dreamless slumber. This couldn't be real. Maybe if he pinches himself, he'll wake up.
But Veronica was there though. She didn't even need to say anything to him in order to get a reaction. His legs were already shaking, his hands twitching, sweat pouring down his dome, and his mouth had gone completely dry. His thoughts were moving so fast that he gained a headache that went numb no more than three seconds after it arrived.
"Well what's wrong, Benny?" Veronica asked. "Don't you want to know why I'm such a bad worker? Or maybe you just wanna know why you think I was such a bad lover."
Margaret edged away from her. Whatever Veronica and Benson once had must have been something truly awful. The look on the man's face was proof enough of that.
"Well go on then!" she snapped at the two of them. "One of you surely has something to say! I mean, if you're going to bring it up, then I suppose I have a right to know, don't I? You know talking behind people's backs is rude."
Benson opened his mouth, but only hot air came out. He wanted to tell her off, bitch and moan at her, make her cry even, but his fear of past memories were keeping him from saying what needed to be said. If he could even acknowledge her, that would be a step in the right direction. But that hideous smirk kept all of his energy built up inside him.
Finally he took in a breath and squeaked out a very nearly silent, "g-g-go away…" before taking another few steps back.
"I'm sorry," Veronica said, brushing some of her hair aside. She pointed where her ear would have been toward Benson and said, "Could you repeat that?"
Benson didn't. He just ran as fast as he could; Turned on a heel and bolted away from the coffee booth. He could have sworn he heard Margaret call out his name, and Veronica's deep cackle. But the place was getting further and further away now, which was what Benson wanted. He didn't care about the people he was inadvertently bumping into, nor did he care to apologize. He just needed to get as far away from that hell as he possibly could. He felt a little bad for leaving Margaret there with her, but he knew the robin could take care of herself. She was strong; stronger than him.
Benson made a beeline for the park house when it came into view, still not caring who he hit or rudely inconvenienced. He past Skips booth at one point, to which the yeti asked what was happening. He didn't get an answer. The yeti thought the worst, and temporarily closed his booth down while he chased after the gumball machine.
As soon as Benson was within a few feet of the house, he climbed up the steps, opened the front door, jumped inside, and slammed the door behind him. He took a few deep breaths and slid down onto the floor. He could hear his gears spinning like a lunatic's. The metallic pulsating sound that burst out deafened him as he tried to catch his breath.
"Benson?" someone from the living room said.
He looked over into the room and saw Don looking at him with a tired and worn out expression from the couch. Benson got up from the floor and wobbled toward the raccoon, plopping down next to him.
"What are you doing here?" Benson panted.
"Taking a break," Don said exhausted. "Something happened over in the catering side, and I pretty much had to clean up a couple a hundred pounds of dirty cookie dough from off the ground by myself."
The raccoon looked awful. His fur was messy and spiked out. His hands were dirty with cookie dough and dirt, and he looked as though he were about to pass out at any moment.
"No one wanted to help," he added as he leaned back into the couch cushion. "So I thought I could come in here and rest a little bit before going back out there." His eyes glanced over to his friend. "Why are you here?"
Benson mimicked him and leaned back. "I think I lost my mind for a few minutes. Now I'm not sure what I'm feeling."
"Will some sugar help?" Don outstretched his arms, but when Benson shook his head, they came back down onto the cushions. The tall man sighed and gripped at the couch. "I think you were right, Benson. I think I may have bitten off more than I could chew."
"Then stay here for the rest of the day," Benson groaned, massaging his glassy temple, "or go sit down and handle one of the booths. Why not go help High Five Ghost at the kissing booth. I'll bet a lot of girls and guys would find you attractive."
"No," Don quickly declared, "I'm not changing anything. I'm gonna stick with this until the end. I said I was going to."
Benson groaned and stared at the disheveled raccoon. He really didn't want to deal with Don's issues again, especially since he was still dealing with his own, but if he didn't, than things would only get worse for the kindly sugar loving man. "What do you feel like right now, Don?"
"Well, I feel like doing what I said I was going to do!" Don replied with a smile.
"No, I mean what do you FEEL like right now."
"Oh… well I guess I kind of feel like wanting to scream. But I won't! There's still too much that needs to be done!"
It was pretty much what Benson figured. If Don continued to push himself, he was probably going to snap. Though Benson wasn't sure if it would be a tearful or rage filled meltdown. Either way, he didn't want to take the chance of either one.
"Go home, Don," he said sternly to the raccoon. "I can take care of everything from here."
"It's alright!" Don quickly countered. "I can handle this! I just need a break every now and then. Just bare with me okay?"
"I don't know if I can…"
The front door opened and slammed right in the middle of Benson talking. Both the gumball machine and raccoon looked behind them to see Skips with a worried expression about him.
"What's going on?" he asked in huff. "I saw you sprinting away from something."
Now Benson felt like a real heel. He either had to lie, or explain to Skips that he got freaked off by his reintroduction to the girl that broke his very will to live at the time. He was about to say something, when the front door opened and closed again.
"BENSOOT!" Maellard screamed as he entered with Tim. "What in blue blazes has gotten into you? I've just received several complaints from some people saying that you were ramming into them left and right! What's going on!"
"That's what I'd like to know," Skips added on.
Benson sighed. Skips and Maellard stood side by side, with a bored bodyguard behind them, wanting to know what was going on. He looked around himself for something to say, but knew he had to tell them the truth and feel the brunt of their disappointment, not to mention embarrassment.
"Look I was at the coffee booth when-"
"When he saw me losing my mind," Don quickly cut in. "And when I saw him approaching me, I made a mad dash for the house out of worry. He was just chasing after me to see if I was alright."
Maellard scratched his chin and thought about it. "But why would you be worried, my boy?"
"Because I'm afraid you all would think I'm not a very good worker," Don admitted. "I'm just trying really hard to impress everyone." He looked over to Benson and smiled.
Don had just saved Benson's bacon, and was taking full responsibility. While it was noble of the raccoon to do such a thing, it left Benson feeling more than terrible.
Maellard let out a loud sigh and slowly stepped toward the raccoon. "Don… go wash your hands, and take fifteen minutes to cool yourself down. I have plenty faith that you will get the job done."
"Thank you sir," Don said, getting up from the couch. He stepped away toward the kitchen to wash himself of his exhaustion, turning his head and giving Benson a quick wink.
Benson felt that wink hit him with a powerful emotional force. Don shouldn't be there. If he kept working he was only going to get much worse. The raccoon seemed like the type of person who bottled up his anger, and Benson didn't want anyone to be around when it went off.
"Mr. Maellard," he began, looking towards his boss, "please send Don home."
The aged lollipop man looked stared at Benson with a doubting face. "And why should I do that?"
"Look at him!" Benson cried. "He looks like he's about to go insane. He's penting up all his emotions, and I don't think he should be here when things become too much for him." He shifted his focus on the yeti then. "You agree, right Skips?"
"Weeeeeeell," Skips groaned, "I agree he may be on the verge of a breakdown, but I don't think he should be sent home. We need all the help we can get. I think Don might be okay if we have someone watching him, just in case."
"Excellent idea, Skips!" Maellard said with a smile. His attention shifted back to Benson. "Bencooler, you and Don will work together for the remainder of the day. I'm holding you personally responsible if anything happens to him."
Benson didn't even have a say in the matter. He was suddenly thrust with extra responsibility. Why was it that his days always got worse and worse as they progressed? "No wait," Benson tried to chime in, "I don't…"
"I hope you heard that, Don!" Maellard yelled into the kitchen.
"I certainly did," Don said as he exited the kitchen, his hands a little less filthy now. "That sounds like a great idea to me! It might be more fun to work with a friend, anyways."
"But listen…"
"Good then," Skips said. "I'm heading back to my booth."
"Don't I get a say…?"
"Not so fast, Skips!" Don stopped him. "Nobody's leaving here until I get some sugar from each and every one of you!"
Benson was left speechless. No matter how much he argued against it, he was stuck. No one was listening, no matter how loud he got. He was the first to get a quick hug was Don. Usually, his sugar helped calm him down a bit, but now… he just wanted to scream. The raccoon's sugar suddenly tasted bitter, and left little holes in his mouth from the tenderness it gave. It was a strange feeling.
Don approached Maellard and hugged him, lifting him into the air. The old man actually seemed to enjoy it. Skips gave him one before Don could even approach him, and quickly left back to his booth after that. When the raccoon tried to get one from Tim, the bodyguard refused at first, but was forced into one when Don grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug. Tim squirmed at first, but gave up and relaxed into it after a while. When the sugar shack was complete, they all returned to their jobs.
"You know," Don began as he walked along with Benson, "this isn't so bad when it's with another person. It's actually kind of fun."
"So I take it that means you're calming down?" Benson asked as he looked at a dunk tank with Muscle Man's girlfriend, Starla, in the seat. She waved to the passers before falling into the murky water below.
"A little," the raccoon replied to him. "I think I'm just more excited to be hanging out with a great guy like you!"
Benson grumbled something and shrugged. "Just make sure you remember that we're supposed to be working. We can play around later on in the day when attendance starts to dwindle."
"Well yeah…" Don moaned, "but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun while we're working." He smiled at Benson and wrapped his arm around his neck.
"What did we talk about this morning?" Benson asked with some slight annoyance.
"Hey hey, c'mon Benson! I'm just being friendly! You should know me by now."
Benson rubbed the side of his head. It still hurt from seeing Veronica, and was getting worse when he thought about Don and his intentions. He didn't know if he could trust the raccoon or not, but he had been assigned to a task and had no choice but to fulfill it. His job, as usual, depended on it.
"I know, Don," Benson muttered. "Sorry."
He expected Don to give him some sort of frown or disappointed expression. Benson didn't know why, he just felt like his foul mood would spread like a deadly virus. Instead, Don continued to shine with enthusiasm as the two of them walked along the carnival's many make shift paths.
Benson let out a discontent sigh. Don of course heard it. To him it was a cry for help and attention. "So what are you REALLY upset about, Benson?" he pried.
"Do you really want to know?" the gumball machine asked.
Don nodded and continued to beam with an honest grin. He hoped that by doing this it might help Benson open a little more.
Benson loved those stupid little grins the raccoon gave him. Don reminded him of that delightfully campy classmate that everyone had back in high school: the one who was always happy, always energetic, always telling bad jokes, and always optimistic even when the chips were down. Back in high school though, Benson found that particular classmate to be annoying as hell. Nowadays, he finds someone like that to be god send, as someone he can trust and feel good about being around. Don, in actuality, more than likely was that classmate that everyone had, which made the moment a little more sweeter.
"Apparently, my ex-girlfriend just started working at the Coffee Shop," Benson admitted.
"Girlfriend!" Upon hearing that one word, a wave of guilt and humiliation swept over Don from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail. "Oh jeez," he nervously quipped. "Oh Benson… ummm… look about this morning. Oh uh… I'm sorry, I didn't know. I mean I just never saw you with another woman or talking about them, so I just assumed and…"
Benson let out a roar of laughter, disrupting Don's nervous apology. The raccoon looked at Benson anxiously, a slight blush of embarrassment streaked across his face.
"It's alright Don," Benson laughed. "It's alright, really. You're not the first guy to hit on me before."
"That doesn't make what I did any better though," the younger man complained.
"I promise you Don, it's alright," the laughing machine continued. "I guess I do kind of give off that vibe, don't I?"
"I… I don't know," Don gulped. "I mean, I thought at first… and I shouldn't be jumping to conclusions like that, and…"
Benson calmed his laughter and patted the raccoon on the arm. "Really doesn't make any difference to me. Technically, Don, I'm genderless. Man, woman, machine, and yes, even raccoon are pretty much open game to me."
"Genderless?" Don repeated out loud. "Like you aren't a boy or a girl?"
"Technically, no. I guess I just sort of fell into the mannerisms of a man, and my voice has always been naturally deep, so I just stuck with this path. Veronica pretty much told me the same story. Dave too." Benson noticed the confused expression on Don's face, and gave another little laugh. "Dave was an old friend of mine, and Veronica is my ex."
Don nodded, a little thankful for the explanations, though it still didn't give him much to go on. "So then," he thought aloud, "you're not straight, or gay, or anything like that? You're just… ummm…"
"Benson," the gumball machine finished Don's sentence, "I'm just Benson."
"Yeah, I guess you are," Don agreed with a grin. "Sorry to pry into your business like that, and sorry again for this morning."
"Again, Don, it's alright," Benson said, his mood shifting to slight annoyance. "What about you?" He asked, shifting the focus. "Why hasn't anybody come and snatched up our favorite raccoon accountant yet?"
"Work mostly," Don sighed. "Probably a little bit of shyness too. I can make friends really easy, no problem, but when it comes to actual romance – I have difficulty making the connection, in case you haven't noticed."
"I guess I didn't help matters," Benson said with a shrug.
"Hey, don't fret, Ben! I tried, and got turned down, but at least I can say I tried, right? I know it hurt a little bit, but I feel kind of good about it too. It means that, I tried at least, and that's something I can be proud of."
Benson agreed. The fact that Don at least tried to romance Benson a little bit was a step in the right direction. Don would probably find someone at some point in his life, just not at that moment. He would more than likely have to face a few more rejections, or failed relationships until he found his special someone. Benson did admit though, he enjoyed being the object of affection. It had been a while since that actually happened.
They were passing by the booths owned by the various caterers and observed all the wonderful treats that were being made.
"How about a churro?" Don asked Benson. "My treat!"
"Alright," the gumball machine replied, "but I'm paying for the slush drinks when we pass them." He put on a good face, and tried to enjoy his time with the sugar giving raccoon friend.
So Don stepped away toward the booth with all the Hispanic food, and ordered two cinnamon churros for the two of them. Benson stood there and waited, releasing a breath from his nose as he began thinking to himself. He actually was feeling a little better about the whole Veronica thing now.
chZZZtt
"Benson!" the radio at his side sparked. "Benson, you need to answer immediately!"
Mordecai's voice. Benson groaned, knowing something was definitely up. He snatched the walkie-talkie from his side and brought it close to his face. "What is it?" he asked unhappily.
"The info booth just collapsed."
"Collapsed? What did you two do to make it do that!"
"Nothing! It just collapsed on its own. And our booth isn't the only one that's done that."
"Excuse me!"
Something crashed right behind Benson, causing him to loop around and see the destruction first hand. A booth that specialized in chili came crashing down as the steel rods and tent cloth holding the place up gave way. Chili spilled everywhere, some splashing into patrons' eyes as they began to run around with spicy chili attacking their corneas.
Benson's gumballs went pale white as he watched the carnage unfold. Two more booths in the distance came down a few seconds afterwards. Then another and another. Like dominos, booths started falling left and right with no end to it in sight. Benson could feel his lower eye lid twitch in shock. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. There had to be a reasonable explanation for it. This couldn't be a coincidence.
"Hey you!" someone screamed past Benson. "These booths you provided us are crap!"
An angry chef pushes past the gumball machine and moves toward a very surprised and confused Don, sporting a churro in both hands.
"What seems to be the problem, sir?" Don asked with some confusion.
"That!" the chef screams as he points to his collapsed booth. "That is the problem I'm having! These booths that you've provided for us are death traps! You ruined my soufflé!"
"I'm sorry, sir," Don apologized nervously. "I was just providing what I was given."
"That's not an excuse!" A woman yelled from behind the raccoon. "It's your parks job to make sure that these booths are safe for me and my children."
"I'm sorry, Miss. Where are your kids? Are they hurt?"
"They haven't been born yet! I'm single and unmarried! How dare you rub the fact that I'm a lonely spinster in my face!"
"I wasn't Miss, I swear."
"Hey you there, coon!" screamed an angry old man. Don looked over to him, only to have his churros slapped right out of his hand as the old man approached him, before walking away just as quickly with a neutral expression on his face.
One after another, people began to surround Don, accusing him of all their misfortune. He did his best to try and convince them that he was not at fault, and that he was only doing his job, but the people wanted to hear nothing of it. They needed something to blame, and since the manufacturers of those booths weren't around, they just went after the next best person.
Benson couldn't stand it. These people were unjustly ganging up on Don, and it had to stop. The scared and confused look on the raccoon's face was enough evidence that this was spiraling out of control. He approached the crowd and tried to break them, screaming and yelling at each one individually if he had to. Unfortunately, not a single person listened and he was eventually pushed out of the group and on to his behind.
Don frowned when he saw his friend kicked around like nobodies business and couldn't stand that. The noise all around him was about to drive him insane. He couldn't think properly. Benson might have been right the whole time on this one: He may not have been ready for this kind of responsibility and work.
"Stop," he muttered clutching his eyes at the group. "I said stop! I'm trying to think!"
But no one would go silent. The complaining only got louder and louder as each person tried to out yell one another for the attention of the person they were mad at.
Don was nearly on the verge of tears when he finally took in a deep breath and screamed, "SHUT UP," as loud as he possibly could.
And then the world stopped.
And then the world grew quiet.
And then the world was simple again.
Don looked around himself. Everything was frozen. The people were caught in the middle of freeze frame that was the perfect picture of a mob uprising. Some were stuck with their mouths open, while others looked as though they were about to pull out pitchforks and torches. The scene itself was something both beautiful and terrifying in its sense. A bold sense of fear that captured the beauty of simple folks who cared only for themselves and the pain they could inflict on others – humanity in a nutshell.
The raccoon looked around himself, still stuck in the middle of the group. There, he saw Benson getting up, not frozen like the others.
"Benson," Don said as the fear festered in him, "what's going on?"
The gumball machine looked around himself, seeing the same still world that Don had seen. "I'm not sure," Benson replied. This was certainly something new.
A low chuckle suddenly voiced itself around them. It was only barely there, but it was very present. Benson bit down on his lip. He recognized that laugh before. It was the same hideous laugh that had nearly killed him a few weeks prior.
"Oh no," he whispered to himself.
"Little raccoooooooon," it hissed all around them. "Why can't you handle the pressuuuuuuuuuuure?"
"Don!" Benson yelled over it. "Get out of there right now! You need to get out of that crowd right now!" The gumball machine began to push the frozen citizens out of the way. They toppled like statues onto the ground.
"Hoooooooooooooow much dooooooooes it hurrrrrrrrrrrrt?" the voice continued to bemoan. "Yoouuuuuuuuuu can't doooooo anythiiiiiiiing right, caaaaaaaaaan you?"
"Don, for Quintel's sakes, get yourself out there! This thing isn't going to play games with you!"
"Theeeeeeeeeeey dooooooooon't like yooouuuuuuuuuu, he doesnnnnnnnnnn't liiiiiiiiiik you, the whoooooooooool worrrrrrrrrrrrld doesn't liiiiiiiiiik youuuuuuu. Whyyyyyyy even booooooooother?"
"DON!" Benson screamed. "ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!"
But as Benson pushed the last screaming idiot aside, he saw what he shouldn't have. A thick black liquid had coiled around Don's feet, holding him in place as it began to slowly creep its way up his leg. Benson stepped back and tripped over one of the "statues", falling back to the ground. From there, he watched the disgusting ooze work its way up to the raccoon's waist and abdomen. Don tried to scream, but something in him was refusing it.
The blackness felt up to his shoulder, and then began to trickle down his arm, eventually finding his hand, and the still sore cut from earlier. The voice continued to cackle and hiss as small arms came out of its ooze. They all grabbed both sides of the closed and still healing cut, and pulled as hard as they could. The wound reopened, larger than before, tearing at flesh that was otherwise considered fine. His palm burned as muscle tissue grew exposed to the outside air. The voice gave one more cackle before the ooze began to crawl inside the cut, slithering in as fast as could until every strain has found its way inside. Then, it closed itself up and healed up in an instant.
"Now then," the voice continued, clear as day now. It spoke in Don's own voice, and only within his head. It sickened the raccoon. "Let's see what we can do with this body after we give it a little 'umph'."
Don's heart gave an audible beat, as his head filled with ethereal thoughts. His memories of past anger and depression that he once thought he forgot, surfaced again, attacking all of his emotions. His fingers began to sporadically move, his legs shook, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. In that short moment, he began to see things he had never seen before. These weren't his memories, suddenly: these were something else's. And just like that, his body stopped convulsing, his eyes returned forward, and he grew still.
And the world returned to motion.
The people were still screaming at the now in shock and catatonic raccoon, while others laid on the ground, wondering how it was they got down there.
Benson stood up and successful grabbed Don's hand, pulling him out of the center of the crowd and placing him away from the anger of the venders and park patrons. The gumball machine wasn't sure what it was that had just happened, but he could only deal with these situations one step at a time. The voice from earlier took top priority, but since they were no longer in that strange world, the crowd and Don's safety came second.
"Everyone SHUT UP!" Benson screamed. They did just that. He knew his voice was powerful enough to keep a crowd in check. "Now if you all have any problems going on with your booths, I suggest you take it up with the company that made the things. I'll be happy to provide contact information to them if you just give me some time."
The crowd's expression then suddenly changed. Many of their faces grew fearful of something, and began to step away, bumping into each other. Benson cocked his eyebrow and wondered what was going on. He turned around and looked at Don.
The tall raccoon was shaking like a mad man. His hands were clutched around his head as his knees began to buckle under the pressure. He fell to the ground, and onto all fours as his body continued to tremble. His breathing was loud and rapid.
"Don?" Benson knelt down. "Don, what's wrong?"
The whiteness in his eyes grew dark and black, surrounding everything except for the deep shade of brown in his iris. He twitched slightly and looked curiously at Benson. That kind and honest expression that he had always had was now gone, replaced with a feral yearning and need for everything. It looked at Benson as something it wanted, something that was up for the taking. He was so pretty and shiny, and all those playful little balls in his head? But those were just the tip of the iceberg. That scared and concerned look of affection the gumball machine had on his face at that moment… it was worrying about him. That was the sign he was looking for to confirm his suspicions about Benson.
Benson saw the untamed want in Don's eyes and knew he was no longer safe around the raccoon. He slowly reached down for the radio at his side, and quietly brought it up to his lips. He knew only one person could know how to handle this.
"Skips?" Benson whispered into the receiver.
"What is it Benson?" Skips actually snapped. "I'm in the middle of trying to fix some of these booths."
Don leaned over and sniffled at Benson, trying to get his scent just right. He smelled like metal and steel with a subtle sweetness to him. Don's mouth watered from lust at the prospect of his soon to be new possession. He didn't care if anyone else owned him, it was his right to take it, just like it was his right to take anything else he wanted without permission.
Benson remained knelt, growing silent as Don took in simple observations of the gumball machine.
"Benson?" Skips voiced through the walkie-talkie, sounding a little more concerned this time. "What's going on?"
Benson looked Don square in the eye. The raccoon smiled and screamed "MINE" before taking the man into his arms, and screaming at the onlookers. He let out a shriek that pierced the entire park, forcing some to plug their ears and others to temporarily leave a ringing.
The scream made its way all the way to Skips, who dropped what he was doing and stood up from the booth he was working on.
The radio in his hand hissed once more, as Benson's voice came forth from it screaming at the top of his lungs.
"HELP!"
Benson then dropped the walkie-talkie as he was being carried away.
Home Again Garden Grove – The Mountain Goats
Author's Notes
I loved writing this chapter. There's so much exposition, character development, character introductions, action, comedy, drama, just everything! It really wasn't supposed to be 9300 words though. The original draft was considerably shorter. Also, I know it seems like I talk about old drafts and such, but it just sort of surprises me when I go back after a few weeks and read through these chapters before submission. Kind of gives a sobering experience. Kind of the same way I go back and read early chapters of Triangles and cringe at the quality.
Also, as for Veronica: I know a lot of people in the Regular Show fandom are iffy about her, considering she was only in one storyboard, and is portrayed as... well, less than kind in fanfiction and fanart. All I can ask is that you bear with me on this. I have plans between her and Benson, and you will not be disappointed, I swear!
So Until Next Chapter...
Adieu...
