And so the day continued in familiar silence between the two. Rigby never made any effort to initiate conversation, and when Mordecai tried, Rigby would either not respond, or spout gibberish.

Mordecai felt bad for snapping at Rigby, because something was obviously very wrong with him, but he had absolutely no clue what it was, and he had no idea how to deal with it. His angry outbursts at Rigby had been a result of accumulated stress, and he didn't know how to deal with that either.

Still, the prospect of a date with Margaret had started to distract him somewhat, and by the time Wednesday came, he was feeling downright excited.

He woke up on Wednesday morning feeling well rested and fresh, instead of groggy and irritable like usual. He practically jumped out of bed, and walked briskly to the bathroom, attempting to ignore the fact that Rigby was perched on his trampoline, dead still, and watching him without blinking.

Mordecai washed his face to wake himself up a little, and looked at himself in the mirror. This was it. The big day that he had waited so long for. He was feeling anxious, but was in an otherwise good mood. He went back into his room, and checked the clock – it was half seven.

"Hey dude, we'd better get ready for work" Mordecai said to Rigby, who was now staring out the window.

"Uh… okay" He said slowly. He hopped off of his trampoline, and pulled some old, dirty clothes on. Mordecai sighed. He had no idea why his friend insisted on wearing clothes all of a sudden. He didn't want to be left out, so now Mordecai had slowly started reintroducing clothes as well. Even now, he was slipping on a t-shirt and shorts. He didn't have many clothes, but had brought some just incase he ever needed them.

The two headed downstairs. Mordecai drank some coffee, but Rigby didn't bother. They situated themselves in front of the TV, and Rigby insisted on watching the news. Today's headlines were a salmonella outbreak at several restaurants, a small explosion in a Kuwaiti oil field, and the fact that the USSR had agreed to consider scaling down its nuclear testing after the United States and the United Kingdom had offered to discuss nuclear disarmament.

Mordecai sighed. He hated watching the news, and had no idea why Rigby was so into it all of a sudden.

"It's time to start, come outside" Benson said, walking through the room from the kitchen. Mordecai got up reluctantly. He wanted the day to be over and done with as quickly as possible. He nudged Rigby, who got up silently, and followed him outside.

"I have some good news for you guys" Benson said to the group. "Because you've been working so well, today there are no jobs available to be completed. So you can all have a paid day off!" He finished. Muscle Man and Fives cheered and hi-fived. Pops squealed with delight, even though he never had to do any work, and even Skips seemed pleased with the relief. Mordecai wasn't thrilled however. Now he wouldn't have anything to take his mind off his date with Margaret later. Rigby showed no reaction.

As the crowd dispersed to enjoy their day off, Benson approached Mordecai and Rigby.

"See what happens when you guys actually get your jobs done?" He said. "Rigby I'd like to speak to you in my office as well." He added. Rigby was confused, as far as he knew, he had been working well lately. Mordecai became slightly worried that he may be getting fired. Regardless, Rigby followed Benson inside, up the stairs, and into his office.

Benson had noticed Rigby's improvement in work. In fact, Mordecai and Rigby had lately been going above and beyond to get work done. Benson didn't know that the reason was primarily to take their minds off things. He had still noticed though.

He had also noticed the changes in Rigby. Sitting down behind his desk, Benson motioned for Rigby to sit down, which he did. Benson looked at Rigby. He looked terrible. His fur was matted and greasy, and appeared to be falling off in a couple places. There were dark circles under his eyes, which appeared red from strain. He was looking very thin, as if he had needlessly lost fifteen pounds.

Benson had concluded it was because Rigby had been working too hard. He couldn't have that, or else Rigby could wind up with an injury, and be able to sue the park. He couldn't believe he was about to have this conversation with Rigby, no less, but here they were.

"Okay Rigby. Two things." Benson started. "Firstly, I would like to commend you for your recent improvement in work. Now, each summer, every worker at this park is entitled to a seventy-five cent per hour pay rise. You have technically been eligible for two. However, park policy says I can withhold it for poor performance, which I have done" He continued. Rigby was looking at him with a blank stare, which creeped Benson out slightly.

"So, because of your radical improvement, I'm releasing your pay rise today. Which is two summer's worth. Your base pay is… nine dollars, I think. Which is what everyone starts on. From now on, you'll be making ten-fifty an hour. So… congratulations. You make the same as Mordecai now." Benson said. Rigby still didn't react. Benson took a deep breath.

"…That brings me to my second point. Rigby… I'm not entirely sure how to do this. I've never had to before, but… I've noticed a decline in your… uh… wellbeing lately." Benson said, still gaining little response from Rigby. He continued "And I don't want the park to be liable for any work-related injury you may suffer as a result… so, I suppose what I'm asking is… could you possibly, uh, stop working quite so hard?" Benson said. He wasn't sure what to think. He had never had to have this conversation before. "I mean, keep working well by all means, but please just don't push yourself overboard, okay?" Benson said as gently as possible. Rigby continued to sit in the same position, unresponsive.

"…Do you understand me?" Benson said, a little louder this time. Rigby finally nodded slowly. "Okay then. Go ahead and enjoy your day off. I'll see you later." Benson finished. Rigby hopped off his chair, and left the room. Benson was confused and concerned. It was clear to him that whatever was wrong with Rigby wasn't drugs; his work ethic had been too sound lately for that. He wasn't too worried however. Rigby was independent enough to sort himself out. He thought.

Rigby exited the room and walked down the hall. He walked slowly – his legs felt heavy. The lights seemed to adopt a purple hue, and he got the sudden sense that this was not reality. He felt disoriented and disassociated. He didn't feel like a person anymore – as if there were multiple barriers between the being inside him, and the world that surrounded him. His being didn't mind though. It was numbed and dumb, and couldn't respond, and if it could, it still wouldn't.

He entered his room, and sat on his trampoline. Dark could-like beings glided across the ceiling, though Rigby wasn't frightened by them. He looked at his hand. It appeared distorted, and almost pixelated. In his head, he felt a kind of small shock, and heard a very brief, but loud buzz. He looked around the room, suddenly confused. Was any of this even really happening?

'There is only one truth, one conclusion. This is not real'

'This is not the real world'

'You need to wake up'

'This is not reality'

And suddenly it made sense to him. None of this was real. Somehow, over the past couple weeks, his consciousness had transferred from the actual world, to this fake, unreal world. He started laughing a little, just because he finally had a solid answer to what was happening. He lost his balance, and fell of the edge of his trampoline, still laughing. One of his arms flailed out and made contact with something. Still giggling lightly, he pulled it out, and looked at it. It was a bottle of vodka, three quarters full. He had bought it several months ago and forgot about it.

Figuring that it didn't really matter, since this wasn't real, Rigby opened the bottle, and started drinking liberally.

Outside, Mordecai stubbed out a cigarette, and downed the last of his second coffee. He went inside, and was about to head upstairs to see if Rigby finally wanted to do something, but a segment on the news about recently discovered paintings from multiple famous artists was on, which caught his attention.

Back upstairs, Rigby was feeling pretty good. The effects of sleep depravation, mixed with pleasant hallucinations, and alcohol consumption had an extremely relaxing and comforting effect. His limbs left heavy, and he felt warm and tingly all over.

Downstairs, the news segment had finished. Mordecai hauled himself off the sofa, and headed upstairs. He entered their room, and sat down on the bed. Looking over to the other side, he saw Rigby. His eyes were partially closed, and he was half-smiling. A quarter full bottle of vodka sat beside him.

"Dude, what the fuck!? It's Wednesday morning!" Mordecai exclaimed. Rigby didn't respond. Mordecai walked over to him and shook him.

"Dude! Stop drinking!" He said, louder.

"It doesssn matter" Rigby slurred. He took another swig of vodka, spilling some on his fur.

"Yes it fucking does, it's like, eight thirty in the fucking morning." Mordecai said, taking the bottle away from him.

"Ehh, see if I care, I wassdone withit anyways" Rigby said, too drunk to move. Mordecai ignored him, and stuffed the bottle in his bedside table. He exited the room, went into the bathroom, and filled a glass with water. He went back into the room, and gave the glass to Rigby, who proceeded to spill some.

"Dude, watch it… just drink this" Mordecai said. Rigby sipped from the glass.

"Thisss' water" Rigby said.

"Uh, yeah it is, drink it" Mordecai said.

"How bout more vodkaaaa?" Rigby said, giggling.

"You sound like my mother. Drink the fucking water" Mordecai snapped. Rigby gulped more water out of the glass.

"All of it" Mordecai said.

"Yew sounnlike my mom" Rigby said, chugging down the rest of the water.

"Well that's good, because someone needs to baby you, apparently" Mordecai said. Rigby ignored him, and lazily tossed the empty glass, which bounced on the trampoline a few times. Mordecai picked it up.

"Now get some sleep. Every morning when I wake up, you've up all night, staring at some random shit. This morning when you were looking at me when I got up? Yeah, that was creepy as fuck. Go to bed – this staying up is messing with your head." Mordecai said, turning off the light, and leaving Rigby alone in the dark.

Rigby frowned. The things Mordecai had said to him were slightly hurtful, and he was becoming quite upset.

'He thinks there's something wrong with you'

'He knows'

'Make a list'

'Make a longer list'

'Make a list to show him you're normal'

"Make a list…" Rigby said to himself. He allowed himself to fall off his trampoline, and retrieved an old notebook in which he used to doodle, and a pen. He tore out some old pages, leaving the book filled with blank pages. He brought his pen to the paper, and feeling quite agitated, he wrote "There is nothing wrong with me." His handwriting wasn't very good, and was made worse by the fact he was pretty drunk. He continued to write anyway. He brought his pen back up to the paper, and wrote "There is nothing wrong with me" again. Writing it repeatedly would hopefully drive the point home to Mordecai that he was fine.

Rigby sat there for hours, just filling up page after page with the sentence "There is nothing wrong with me." It was messy, but legible at least. After what seemed like forever, Rigby finally finished the notebook, and stumbled over to Mordecai's bed, and quickly wrote "To Mordecai" on the first page. Rigby then decided to go for a smoke, so he stumbled out of the room, and headed out the door.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Mordecai was getting ready for his date a couple hours early. Margaret and him weren't meeting up until about three or so, and at present it was twelve, but Mordecai was anxious, and had nothing else better to do.

After having showered, he had put on his typical smart casual wear – a crisp, white oxford shirt with red tie.

Deciding he looked good enough, he exited the bathroom, climbed down the stairs, and sat on the sofa, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to disturb Rigby, who he assumed was sleeping. He checked his phone – it was just past half twelve. Meaning there were still two-and-a-half hours to go before his date with Margaret.

Meanwhile, just outside, Rigby received a text. He stubbed out his cigarette, and checked his phone. It was from Eileen.

"Hey, it's my day off, do you want to hang out? :)" It said. Rigby thought for a moment. He wasn't into Eileen at all, and he only vaguely thought that she might be interested in him. Still, he had nothing better to do. It couldn't hurt to do something with her.

He texted her back "yeh, wat do u want to do." He received a reply moments later.

"Meet me at my place" She replied. Rigby went back inside to grab a couple things, but was stopped by Mordecai.

"Dude, you're supposed to be sleeping. Go to bed, dude" He said.

"I'm going out." Rigby replied.

"You're going out like that? You look like a homeless alcoholic" Mordecai said.

"Too bad" Rigby said, scurrying up the stairs, losing his balance a couple times. He headed into their room, and grabbed his wallet, and put on an old hoodie he got off his trampoline. He headed back downstairs, and out the door, off to meet Eileen.


So yeah, sorry this is really late.

Next chapter should be up by the end of the week.

Keep in mind, I'm headed down south for a wedding on Thursday, and I'm flying back to college next Tuesday, so my writing schedule may be a little messed up. Don't worry though, I would never forget about you guys.